#where is my YA novel about them. i need the angst!!!

[imgoingtocrash]

Curious if that capital M Cassian and Bix Moment from the s2 teaser is something to the effect of:

Bix is still Not All There post-torture and in that moment she’s imagining Cassian as Teenage!Cassian and tries to kiss him like they never broke up and Cassian:

A: Doesn’t let Bix kiss him because she’s not in her right mind.

or

B: Kisses Bix back because he misses when things were simpler. When THEY were simple and happy together.

Maybe she snaps out of it, or maybe it gives her comfort in the moment she’s living in. Maybe he regrets it, or maybe he needed it just as much as Bix.

…or it’s not that at all. Just a thought. 👀

[berrystiles]

Right Where You Left Me

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Word Count: 10.1k

Content Warnings: Angst, Lovers to strangers kinda deal ya know, some cursing.

Summary: It's the summer before you head off to college, and there's a fear about that decision that keeps creeping in. You try not to let it drown you, spending time making summer plans for your friends and with your boyfriend Steve. It feels like you can do this, and you're happy to be staring into the summer ready to make memories that will carry you into college. However, unbeknownst to you something else is brewing and Steve has plans of his own. One unexpected breakup later and your summer now looks a lot more like trying to overcome heartbreak.

Author Note: I'm the only one to read over this, so me and Grammarly are all I have regarding editing. Also, I guess this is just what I write now! Inspired by my favorite sad girl songs, if you know them I'm sure you'll see them. I have ideas for a part 2 of this if anyone would be interested? All of this was supposed to be a one-shot type of thing, but it started getting long. Part two would be a resolution as we fade into a happy ending, and get some much needed answers.

Ao3 Link - In case you want to read it there

Steve Harrington is soft smiles passed your way over the tops of all the children he babysits heads. He is weekend movie nights spent curled up next to one another on his couch, so close that you sometimes think you could become one person if you tried hard enough. He’s not your first relationship, but sometimes when you can’t sleep at night there’s a reoccurring thought that he is going to be your last. Steve has been orbiting around your life since elementary school, close but never within reach. That was the way, only knowing him through rumors passed around the halls of Hawkins High, two passing ships in the hallway between classes. This last year though has brought him into your world, no longer is he a passing comet that you stop to stare at. Now he’s yours and your mom will chide and say it’s just high school love, but you can’t imagine a world where his hand doesn’t stay attached to yours. Call it whatever you want, but something about this just feels too real. The kind of love you hear about in novels, the kind people wax poetic structures about. You’re not sure what you did in a past life, or what karma you collected over time, but you’re thankful for the universe putting the two of you together.

The only bleak part of your future with Steve comes after summer ends. You’ve just graduated, and school is expected of you in a way that you know you can’t turn down. Steve has been more than understanding, it’s a pressure he recognizes from his parents. You have no clue what you want to do but your dad swears that you’ll figure it out when you get there. You manage to get into a good school but it’s 5 hours away from Hawkins. Your parents are ecstatic, they can’t stop talking about all the ways you’re going to grow in this next phase of your life. Your parents are the people who met in college, and even though they won’t say it there’s something about you needing to attend that feels a little like them trying to relive their glory days. You love them but you’re not sure if they know you or if they really listen when you talk.

You find that if you put on a smile and nod along to what they say though it gets you through conversations faster. It’s a small price to pay so you can escape the house and rush to Steve. Steve who you hate to leave behind, sweet Steve who has been there to hold your hand and be your rock through it all. You’re not sure if you’d be able to put up with your parents’ expectations if he wasn’t there with you holding you up. You worry you put too much on him like you weigh him down the same way your parents tend to do. Sometimes you tell him your concerns, and he’s always quick to quiet the fear.

The thing with Steve is he is so soft sometimes, and yet you can’t help but feel protected in his arms. Still though, even as he brushes your hair to the side, as his lips touch yours and he peppers you with affection and reassurance, you make a vow to yourself to try and reduce how much you complain. You can’t stop the anxiety that sometimes spikes up despite his kindness that maybe this all hurts a little too much for him. After all, his family held similar expectations for him. You know that his dad is a different kind of mean and demanding than yours. Your family feels like a small-time problem when put into the perspective of Steve’s parents.

You have a mantra you follow, reminding yourself that school, as daunting as it is, is still months away. You have a whole summer to forget about it all. A whole summer of nothing but your friends and Steve. You know you’ll be right next door at the arcade, your shifts and Steve’s always lining up because of a favor Keith owed you. There are plans in place that will carry you through. There’s the drive-in and their Friday night movie deals, sunny days that will be spent at Lover’s Lake, the regular Sunday brunch at your favorite diner, and so much more. You make sure to focus on those things, knowing that all of it will be enough to get you through that first semester of school once you finally go.

However, like with most things that seem to happen in Hawkins, your good luck runs out. You hate to say it, but you didn’t see it coming. Delusional bliss is apparently where you’ve been living and the rose-colored glasses you didn’t know you were wearing are snatched off your face without a moment of hesitation. Looking back the signs will be there in glaring neon colors, and you will hate yourself for missing them. For missing them to the point that you couldn’t even backtrack to fix where your so-called perfect relationship went off the tracks.

It's a week into summer and things are not at all going to plan. Your parents are pressuring you to cut your summer short and go to school three weeks early so you can settle in for classes. And honestly, it’s not the worst idea and if you were anyone else maybe it would be appealing. However, you’re on a fixed time frame and you don’t plan to give up one ounce of time with Steve and your friends before you absolutely must. Despite schedules syncing up, there’s a distance growing between you and Steve. At the time you understand, there are kids to be driven around and then his parents unexpectedly show up back home. You don’t blame him for the distance, you take it in stride and offer your support just like he’s been doing for you. The future version of yourself, will look back and call you an idiot for not digging deeper. But why would you? In all the time, though maybe it hasn’t been that long, Steve has never once been the cause of your anxiety. Never once has he ever done anything to make you question your relationship, or whether you can trust him or not.

After a week of only seeing Steve in passing and on lunch breaks, you finally get the chance to have uninterrupted time with Steve. He catches you on a break at work and asks if you want to get dinner once your shifts end. He doesn’t carry that same glowing smile he always does when he drops these moments on you, but you brush the thought aside assuming this is the residual damage from his parents. You’re just happy at the prospect of being with Steve so you’re quick to agree, and even quicker to pull him in for a kiss to seal the deal. In your excitement, you don’t notice how this kiss doesn’t feel like a welcomed hello, and later you’ll tell yourself that it was the first sign of goodbye. But in the moment Steve is pulling away, and he’s looking at you like he's tracing and memorizing everything about you. “I’ll see you after work,” is the parting sentence before he’s jogging back to Family Video.

Steve and you meet in the middle of your two jobs, and he holds out his hand just like he always does. He leads you to his car, asking you about your day. You tell him about the party coming in, and about all the different characters of teens who came in. You prattle on and on, all the way to your favorite diner. You ask him about his day and try to get him to talk more. A quiet Steve, with eyes not shining, is a version you hate to see. You want nothing more than to pick him up, hopefully, wash off all the grime that his parents so obviously threw on him in the short week they were home. It’s always hard doing this walk and dance, the scars his parents leave him with always cut deeper than you have an awareness of. But it’s never this impossible, by the time you’re leaving the diner you’re more worried about what happened during this visit home than you ever have been. You’ve learned with Steve that when it comes to his parents you can’t poke too much otherwise, he gets spooked. Normally, he finds a way to talk about it usually when you’re both back at his place and the light is off for the night. When it’s so dark in his room that you can’t see the way his face is lined with grief, and pain that he shouldn’t have to experience. You’re so used to the pattern that you don’t mind the car ride after dinner being just the sound of the radio. It’s not unwelcomed, it’s just a part of the pieces that happen, which is why you’re surprised when Steve parks in front of your house.

“Oh, are we not going to yours?” Your brow is furrowed as you turn in your seat to face Steve. Even when you don’t stay at his place, he still is always looking at you when you turn to leave. This time though Steve’s hands are still holding on to the steering wheel, and he can’t turn to face you when he finally gathers the ability to reply. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

The radio is still on, and your ears pick up Whitney Houston singing a new song that’s been playing everywhere. “What do you mean,” your stomach feels like it’s falling right out of you and your brain is giving radio silence as you try to gain some understanding of what the hell is going on. You watch as Steve takes a deep breath like he’s centering himself before turning to face you. Every time Steve has ever looked at you it’s been with nothing but softness, an unquestioning gaze that always tells you what he’s thinking. The Steve before you though, these are eyes that aren’t that sweet look he normally gives you. Instead, this one is cold, one that you can barely recall. You have to pull at memories from his reign as King Steve to find some type of look that’s like the one you receive now.

“I just don’t think this is working,” he shrugs like this isn’t the biggest thing to ever happen before. Like he’s telling you something that should be common knowledge.

“I don’t understand, Steve.” There’s a burning feeling in the corners of your eyes. The sensation is a warning that if you don’t pull it together, you’re going to start crying. You don’t know how to pull it together because what little Steve is telling you sounds an awful like a breakup.

Steve sighs, something heavy like he’s just so tired of having to explain himself. It’s an odd sound and it rubs you raw because he hasn’t explained anything. How can he already be tired of a conversation that makes no sense?

“Look, I don’t want this to be harder than it is,” you cut him off before he can continue. “So don’t make it hard, just tell me what’s going on and why you’re saying all of this.” You don’t recognize your voice. The pleading tone sounds watery and not at all like what you know yourself to be. You don’t think you’ve ever begged someone in this way before.

“I just don’t feel the same way for you,” it’s so blunt and to the point that it leaves no room for argument.

“I don’t understand,” you’re repeating yourself and you hate that. You’re not stupid, you can usually piece things together faster than this. The phrase, ‘having the rug pulled out from under you’ rattles around in a way that suddenly makes total sense.

“I don’t know how to explain it any better. I don’t want to date you anymore. I don’t want to see you.” You didn’t realize before that the cold tone he was using still allowed for kindness. In this final statement, his words are ice, and you feel like you just took a plunge into Lover’s Lake in the middle of winter.

You have more you want to say, questions that you feel need to be asked. If you stay though you feel like you’re not going to get them, and honestly, it’s taking more energy to keep yourself together than it would be to stay. You’re not sure if you say anything else if there’s some kind of acknowledgement on your part. All you know is that your body is screaming at you to run. Staying in that car doesn’t feel like a place you belong, so you’re quick to get out. You don’t even make it to the door before Steve is peeling off and driving himself home. The action feels like the last break in any resolve you had. Your Steve would always wait until you were inside before leaving. Always telling you he'd rather know with certainty that you were safe before he ever left. It was one of those things that told you how caring he was, that showed how he loved you.

______________________________________________________________

In what will later be referred to as The Aftermath, you have the next day off. Your mom hovers at your door, knocking and knocking. The sound makes your head hurt and forces you to pull your covers over your head like it’ll drown out everything else. If you had anyone else as a mother, you might be able to convince yourself that she’s doing it from a place of concern. The truth is that this is the same woman who when you came in last night, uncontrollably sobbing and barely getting out the words ‘Steve’ and ‘broke up’, your mom was asking if this meant you’d go to school earlier like she and your father want.

The tears had stopped sometime around when you finally found yourself falling asleep. They haven’t picked back up and everything you ever learned in biology screams out you’re dehydrated. There are things you should be doing, things that you have done for yourself when other relationships ended that made it so the person you were dating was nothing more than a faded memory. Maybe if you go through the ritual of it all, the gathering of reminders, and the disposal of memories it’ll make you feel better. There should be phone calls to girlfriends, and movie nights set up to help push you through these feelings.

Instead, you continue to stay in bed. Your limbs feel like lead, weighed down and stuck, too heavy for you to move. Your curtains are drawn so tight that not even the hot Indiana sun comes through to ruffle you into motion. Your wall has your attention, and you find yourself using the texture of the paint to trace all the lines in your relationship with Steve. Maybe if you follow them to the end like a map, they’ll tell you where you are and where you go from here.

In the midst of The Aftermath, in the bed of your grief, you manage to make one phone call. Well… that’s a lie. You make two phone calls. In no surprise to the imaginary audience watching you grieve; the first call is to Steve. The phone rings and rings and rings. Steve never answers and it should be a sign. You get the standard Harrington voicemail. Steve’s mom’s voice becomes the soundtrack to your day. She tells you to leave a message, and that the family will get back to you when they can. You open your mouth, no plan on what to say but surely there’s something there in your head that will tumble out. The answering machine beep is met with your silence though, just your breath coming through, you wonder if Steve will know it’s you even if you don’t leave your name. Does he still have you memorized in all the ways that you still know him? Did he forget about you in just the span of a day? Worst thought of all, did he even really take the time to trace you down in his memory the same way you did him?

You hang up after that last thought, still no name and still carrying the hope that it could be enough. Your second call is made two hours later when there’s still no call back from Steve, even though he should be off today too. Even though, there’s a piece of your mind screaming over and over that he should have heard the silence in the message and been able to read through it. Maybe that’s unfair of you to place that on Steve, but it also feels unfair that he had the power and took action to bring you where you lay now. The second call is to Keith at the arcade, where you know he’s working since you’re off today. The favor you cashed in on is wasted because your request is for him to take back your schedule.

“I can’t work the day shift anymore,” your voice is hoarse and throat sore as the words stumble out.

“That sounds like a you problem,” you grimace as you hear Keith chewing what you know are those stupid cheese snacks he always carries around.

You hold back a groan and tell yourself your next move, while incredibly bratty, is the only way that you return to work. Your parents hate you working at the place anyway, but you like the independence, you like having your own money and you don’t want to give up another thing this summer.

“It’s going to be your problem because I’m not working any shift that overlaps with Harrington. I’ll quit.” You hate how Steve has transformed into Harrington. Hate how removed it sounds, not at all reflective of how close you had been. If you say his first name though, you know you’re going to cry.

Keith whistles, the tone way too low and drags out in a way that makes you feel a wave of creeping anger you’re not used to.

“So, you and Harrington are over then. Knew he was stupid but didn’t think he was that stupid.”

“He’s not stupid,” your defense is soft, it feels telling of where you are. It isn’t harsh in the way that it should be. It’s not your job to defend Steve anymore, he let you go from that position last night after all.

“I’ll change the schedules,” is the response you get back and it’s the nicest thing that you think Keith has ever said to you. However, you know Keith, and this feels a little too easy.

“Is there a catch?”

“Nah, just can’t afford to lose you so consider it your lucky day.” It doesn’t feel like your lucky day, but you don’t say that. Just mumble out a thank you after he tells you that your shift tomorrow will be the closing shift and Harrington will be gone by then.

True to his word, when you pull into the shared parking lot of Family Video there is no sign of Steve’s car. There’s an awareness that it won’t always be this easy, that Hawkins is too small to go all summer without seeing him. And despite Keith’s previous comments on how he couldn’t afford to lose you, there’s also a silent understanding that he’s still going to be an absolute shit about all of this for the rest of the summer. Keith doesn’t know any other way to be, and it’s a moderate price to pay for your ability to at least show up to work without breaking down.

Dustin is the first one you see in The Aftermath, and you can tell by the way he keeps glancing at you in the arcade that he already knows what’s transpired between you and Steve. You’re not sure if it’s the telltale sign of the obvious breakup look you’re sporting, or if it’s Steve’s own admittance to the teen. Could be a combination of the two though. You looked in the mirror before leaving today. You’re fully aware that you look and feel like shit, and there’s no way to sugarcoat that.

Normally, Dustin would come to chat with you. Whether he’s with the rest of the party or by himself, he always says hello. He would do it before Steve, and you hoped that he’d do it after too. Dustin doesn’t say hello though, he avoids your gaze when you catch him looking your way, and even though you know at one point, he should come to you to complain about a machine he just leaves instead. The act makes you sad, it’s the first divide between the friendships you created and thought you would get to hold on to. Dustin might be in high school now, but he’s still a kid. Rationally, a piece of you should be able to string together how his silence speaks more about how he doesn’t know what to say and less about a side he’s choosing. Reality rarely ever plays out as it rationally should, so instead Dustin just becomes the first domino that falls, and you feel like you should have known everyone else would go along with him.

______________________________________________________________

The next three weeks find you oscillating like a fan. Days spent hiding in your room, working up the courage to move and take care of yourself. Then nights of work or spent rummaging through polaroids that catalog your relationship. You always told yourself you put them in a scrapbook, something to hold the years together so in old age you’d have something to shuffle through. It sounds silly now, but the pictures sit in a shoebox of movie stubs from the Hawk, the receipt from your first date together, and the paper menu from the diner that you talked a waitress into giving you. There are notes scribbled on lined paper that were slipped into your jacket pockets when Steve would kiss you goodbye as he dropped you off at school, dried flowers from prom, and so much more. After a week of crying over the pieces, ink smudging thanks to fresh tears your body can create again now that you’re hydrated, you manage to shove the shoe box in the back corner under your bed. You had to slide it back there with the broom, but you know it’s not within reach now and that feels like progress.

You still dodge calls from your friends that you collected outside of your relationship. When they manage to catch you on the phone they whisper sweet condolences, but underneath it’s an unspoken blame of how you should have known. “He was the King of the school, he only knows how to break hearts,” your friend Val tells you over the phone one night. Val pops her gum on the other end of the line, and it sets off a chain reaction of emotions. You feel like you’re going through the five stages of grief in that moment. Val tries to invite you out and reminds you that Hawkins has more boys than just Steve Harrington. She promises you a good time, a night to help you forget all about Steve. You make an excuse and promise to go out next time, but both of you know it’s a promise you won’t keep.

Your parents seem to have set up some game plan amongst themselves. They’ve learned that they can’t tell you that your heartbreak is juvenile. Instead, they preach about how open you’ll be to new opportunities when you head to school. Your dad has the course list, where he got it from you don’t dare to ask. He tries to plan out your future over dinner, but you don’t even know what life you want for yourself. Before this you just saw Steve in the future, you had naïvely assumed you’d have time to sort out the rest. But Steve’s in the rearview now, and your parents want to know what life you plan to have in your passenger seat.

It's three weeks of juggling it all, but you still haven’t seen Steve. It should feel like the universe is still on your side, but really, it’s more of a cosmic joke. It should be finally time for some peace, instead, the world feels the need to implode again. Your parents are out of town, an annual get-together with their old college friends, and you’re home alone. It’s late, you’ve only been off work for 20 minutes when you get to the grocery store. The pantry at home is bare bones and you’ve been putting off the need to go shopping for the last three days. You’ve been supplementing meals through various fast-food restaurants on the outskirts of town. But you’re tired of driving so far away, plus the taste of grease has become less and less appealing as the days have dragged on.

The evening finds you shrugging off your name tag from the arcade and running into Bradley’s to do some shopping before they close for the night. The air conditioning hits you right as the doors open, it cools your skin in a way that summer nights never will. You close your eyes and pause for a moment, maybe you look crazy, but it’s late and you don’t anticipate anyone else is going to be poking around the store. You grab a cart and you’re on your way, trying to be mindful to be quick because you know how it feels to work a closing shift. You wander up and down the aisles of the store, with no real list in mind just grabbing what sounds good. Your diet is still in a post-break-up mode which means you’re either only consuming junk food or pushing food around on your plate still too sad to eat. Which means, it’s time to be gentle with yourself and just grab the food that calls to you. Now is not a time for healthy eating and hitting every food group on that pyramid they went over in health class.

Because of this though you aren’t paying attention to what’s in front of you. You move through the aisles of the store with your eyes on the shelves, still having confidence in the fact that it’s just you and the store clerk in here. But remember, Hawkins likes to implode both literally and emotionally. You swing your cart into the next aisle, already excited to be browsing the cereal options. You only make it a handful of steps forward, eyes already searching for the cinnamon toast crunch which you’re rarely allowed to bring into the house otherwise your mom will complain. Your cart jolts and pushes you back, and you look up to find that you’ve hit another person’s cart.

You feel silly, and your cheeks are warm in an embarrassed flush. “I’m so sorry,” the words tumble out as you drag your gaze up to see what suburban mom you’ve managed to piss off tonight. When you see who it is though you find yourself wishing it was a mom about to yell at you, instead it’s Steve, you find yourself in front of. He says your name, a hint of surprise, and what you might have previously labeled as nervous energy. You must look stupid, both of you really, just standing in silence as the hum of the grocery store lights buzz on and the radio station the store is set to plays out louder than it should. Steve’s cart is full of popcorn, and snacks that you can trace to each teen you know he babysits, there’s even Robin’s favorite chips and the beer that Eddie likes to drink. All of it slides together and reminds you that it’s Saturday, which means movie night at Steve’s.

You don’t know what to say, and you feel like a deer caught in headlights. Frozen so that you can’t even run to escape the impending collision that is about to take place. It’s Robin rounding around the corner, her voice loud and unapologetic in a way you have always admired. “Hey, dingus, should we grab some ice cream for Erica, or do you think…” her voice trails off as she catches sight of you. “Oh,” and you look to Robin, she raises a hand to give a small wave at you and smile. It’s enough to also jump Steve into movement again, saying your name and you don’t wait to see if there’s more.

You don’t say anything as you turn to leave, though maybe you should have, at least to Robin. But she’s the headlights turning off and giving you the freedom to run. You can eat another fast-food burger tonight, and you hate that you’re just leaving your cart in the middle of the cereal aisle. But you can’t, you won’t just sit there and let yourself wonder that store when it’s obviously not a safe place.

The air conditioning hits you again as you run out the doors. No time to pause this time, and you actually seek comfort in the sticky heat that greets you outside of Bradley’s. The crickets sing to you as you rush to fumble with your keys and drive away before your past tries to catch you outside. You got three weeks of no Steve, and you had been lulled into this fantasy of maybe being okay someday soon. This though, this small interaction, where you didn’t even really talk to him, has shown that you’re not close to that. When you finally manage to pull into your driveway, your hand bangs down on the steering wheel. You mumble to yourself, “that was so stupid, you just ran?”

You’ll eventually make your way into the house about 15 minutes later, after you had completely gone over the entire interaction about three times. You know it will continue to replay all night long. It’ll be inside that you realize you never even stopped to get food, too focused on seeking the safety that you can apparently only find in your room these days. Time drags on and you keep opening and closing the fridge and the cabinets hoping that food will magically appear the next time you start looking. It’s late, Bradley’s will have to be a tomorrow you type of goal. You know Steve and the group will be up late tonight which means the morning will be safe.

You’ve resigned that tonight’s dinner will be a pack of saltines you find buried in the back of the pantry when there’s a knock on your door. Your friends know not to show up unannounced, and if your parents managed to come home early, they wouldn’t be knocking. It’s Hawkins, you remind yourself as you creep to the door, but then the additional it’s Hawkins kicks in and there could be anything waiting for you. You grab your mom’s tennis racket from the closet by the front door and peek out the peephole, but your porch light isn’t on, and you can’t see anything. When you open the door, tennis racket at the ready, there’s no one there. Instead, sitting on the mat right in front of your door is three bags of groceries from Bradley’s.

The bags contain all the items you remember dumping into your cart, including the added addition of one box of cinnamon toast crunch. You can’t prove it, there’s no note, but you don’t really need it do you? There are only two people who would have had access to the cart you left behind, and only one of those two would have added in your favorite cereal. An internal debate rages inside of you, one side of you wanting to leave the food on your porch. Hoping that maybe later Steve will drive by and see it still sitting there. Maybe it will be an ounce of the hurt he's inflicted on you. The other part of you though, the part whose stomach is literally just growling at the prospect of food, wins out. You drag the bags inside and spend the night cycling between the incident in the store and what the bags of food on your porch mean.

The next day feels like a relapse, and you find yourself pacing by your phone, the internal debate to call Steve rages on in your mind. The number of times you pick up that phone and start to punch in his number is too many to count. There’s only one time when you get through the whole number, you only let it ring once before you’re slamming the phone back down and rushing off to your room. You throw yourself onto your bed, face first into your pillow, and you scream. It feels like every emotion that’s been building up since that night in Steve’s car just forces its way out of you. You spend the rest of your day in bed, Don’t Dream It’s Over plays on repeat as you stare at your ceiling and only recognize time passing by the light that streams in from your window.

When your parents come back a week later you say that you want to leave Hawkins earlier after all. They don’t even ask why you changed your mind. They don’t press the issue, which you figured they wouldn’t, but it still stings. instead, they celebrate. Your mom pulls you into her arms and excitedly tells you that it’s the second-best decision you’ve ever made. Your dad chimes in about how the first was applying to college in the first place, his hand feels heavy on your shoulder. The smile you wear feels like it was pasted on, like some macaroni art piece a kindergartener does. Your parents don’t notice though, they never do, they move on already making plans about your departure. The choice doesn’t feel right, but then again, you’re not really sure what the right choice is any more or how it should feel.

______________________________________________________________

You spend the rest of your summer forcing yourself into spaces you don’t want to be in, but it feels like you have to. You got to parties with Val, you spend summer days at the pool with your friends as you planned. It may not be all the friends that you had anticipated being with but it’s something. You feel like with each activity you do you’re adding another band-aid to your heart hoping that this time maybe it’ll stay together. There are times, like at the community pool, when you sit with your friends, and you don’t really feel there. It feels like you’re playing a part and you’ve never been a good actress, so you’re still surprised when everyone just believes it.

Time and life keep moving forward and you wish it felt like you were too, but you still feel stuck. Your parents think that time won’t start moving until you’re away at college, and your friends believe that you need to start dating someone new to feel like you’ve moved on. You don’t think any of them are right but again you’re still stuck wondering what the right move is and how it’s supposed to feel.

What you do manage is to only catch glimpses of Steve for the rest of the summer. You see him at the movies dropping the party off, and you catch him one day leaving Family Video when he’s stayed too late. There’s another day at the grocery store, where you find yourself hiding behind a display stand to avoid the awkward run-in. You see him but you don’t think he ever sees you. You’re not sure if that’s exactly what you want, but if it is then why does it still also ache? A week before you leave you seek Steve out. You spend the morning giving yourself a pep talk, you take the time to perfect your outfit and ensure that you look better than you feel. This encounter is in your control, and you want to make sure it all goes off without a hitch.

You march into Family Video. You’ve been waiting for Robin to leave for her break and for a lull in customers to happen. When all the stars align you take a deep breath, shake out the nerves and move forward with purpose. You have a week left in Hawkins and all your teen magazines have told you that if you want to start college off right you need closure.

The bell above the door rings out in a way that feels louder than you remember. You don’t let it stop you though, you move forward and watch with some satisfaction as Steve’s head pops up and surprise washes over his face. Good, you think to yourself, finally, he knows what it’s like to be ambushed. You’ve planned out what you want to say so once you’re at the counter you speak before Steve can completely derail you.

“Harrington,” the last name comes out a lot calmer than you thought it would, you feel confident. “I leave for school next week…”

“Next week?” Steve interrupts, he looks like he has more to say but you send a glare his way which is enough to have him holding back words. If you paused long enough to just stare at him, you might wonder if he's disappointed, but you don't let the silence linger long enough to notice.

“As I was saying, I leave next week for school, and you owe me some type of closure or explanation for what happened. I’ll be at the diner tomorrow night, 7 pm and I expect you to show up.” You’re proud of yourself, your voice has an edge to it that leaves no room for disagreement.

Steve just says your name and he says it in the same soft way he did when you first started dating. You feel ruffled and some of that confidence feels like it’s being washed down a drain somewhere. “No,” you interrupt him. You can feel the tension in your forehead, you know your brows are furrowed and the frown on your face is reflecting your real emotions instead of some mask you’ve been wearing.

“You just dumped me, out of the blue and you gave me no explanation. I’m leaving next week, and you owe me this. You don’t get to dump me, say that you don’t care for me, and then leave groceries on my doorstep, Steve.” Something in your words must hit a soft spot that you know Steve still has inside of him. Even if his feelings for you are long gone, Steve has always been gooey and soft like caramel on the inside.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.” You stare at him a moment longer, trying to figure out if you’re getting an honest response. Once you’re sure you are you nod and turn to leave. When you were dating you never liked saying goodbye to Steve, it was always a see you soon. Now when you leave there’s no goodbye, but it’s more because you don’t want to waste another word on him. Not when you need to prepare for tomorrow.

______________________________________________________________

The next night finds you showing up at the diner first. The waitress recognizes you and tells you it’s been a while since she’s seen you. You don’t have the heart to tell her the reason why, you just smile and walk to the booth that used to belong to Steve and you.

You don’t feel as prepared for your conversation tonight as you would like, but you do feel less fragile. Somewhere between yesterday and today, you’ve managed to slide into the anger stage of your grief. There are times when you’re not sure if you’re going to just hit Steve as soon as you hit him, or worse. Worse is that small intrusive thought that you have about kissing him one last time. It’s weird because you’re so angry, the angriest you think you’ve ever been before. You feel like a pot that was left on a burner too long, just boiling over the edge and sizzling when you hit the stove eye.

And yet, behind all that anger there’s still the part of you that loves Steve. That piece of you can’t even remember the last time you kissed. You have fuzzy memories of when it might have happened. Maybe a goodbye kiss as he dropped you off at home, something that happened underneath his comforter as you both tried to hide away from the world a little longer. Either of those or something more is possible. It’s just... how were you supposed to know you needed to remember it? You think that maybe this time if you knew it was the last, you’d feel more prepared this time. Maybe it’ll help you feel better.

You slide the salt shaker between your hands, watching as it glides over the table as smooth as butter. Another glance at the clock tells you that Steve is late, Steve who was never late to anything that had to do with you before. The heat starts to turn up, and you feel more and more like that roaring boil of the pot. Twenty minutes after the hour he was supposed to be there the bell chimes above the door.

You don’t give in to the urge to look, you watch the salt continue to glide over the table. You know already it’s Steve because that same waitress is telling him that his girlfriend is at the regular booth. Steve doesn’t even correct her, at least not that you can hear. Steve slides into his seat as easily as the salt continued to glide on the table. All the anger you felt feels like it whooshes out of you. You go from feeling like a boiling pot to a balloon that was blown up and then let go before the air could be sealed inside.

As you sit across from him, the silence stretching on like the miles on an interstate you find yourself spiraling. People, mostly your friends and parents, have implied that it was childish of you to assume that your relationship with Steve would be anything long-term. And maybe you were, maybe somewhere in it all you got swept up in teenage fantasies. Sitting across from him though reminds you how it happened. For all the pain he’s caused, Steve Harrington is still the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen.

The people of Hawkins can gather and label you as simple-minded for all you care. Slap a label on you and shelve you in the town library with all the other romance novels, you don’t care. Because for all that they say you saw yourself creating a future with this man in front of you. Sure, maybe you romanticized it all, but God… you would have married Steve if he had given you a chance.

It’s that thought that spurs you back into the anger portion of The Aftermath. Because you didn’t build your relationship up by yourself. Steve was there too, he’s the one that layered the cement for your foundation. Steve with his endless flirting, his soft compliments, his whispered promises of forever. And even at the end, Steve left you with no explanation for this exit he took. And you can’t start your journey until he finally tells you why.

“You never really gave me a why for what happened at the end. I hate that it’s been months and I can’t let go of you, and maybe I’m just oversharing here, maybe I cared more, but I have to know. Steve, what the hell happened to us?” You’re surprised how quickly the words come out, but you’re pleased that they sound so tough. If Steve is surprised that you had to break the silence, he doesn’t show it.

“We’re young, this wasn’t going to be forever.” Steve’s voice isn’t loud, but it feels like it echoes in the diner. You want to sink into the vinyl of the booth, but you know you can’t.

“See, you say that but,” you take a breath to collect yourself to figure out how you say this all. “We talked about plans, Steve.” You look up, it’s easier to stare into the fluorescents than into Steve’s eyes. Your nerves make themselves known as you feel your fingers picking at the dry skin around your nails.

“Maybe somewhere along the way, I was looking farther into the future than you were. And if I was then I guess that’s on me.  But I didn’t even know forever was an option until you gave me the words to use.” You shake your head like it’ll knock away your disbelief. Your gaze drifts from the lights to your hands gathered on the top of the table now.

“There was that time,” You lay your hands flat on the table hoping the action will stop the nerves from expanding. “We had only been together for like 4 months, and it was that really rainy day?” It’s a question, a quick uptake that doesn’t need an answer. You finally look to Steve again, waiting for some recognition to spark in his mind before you bulldoze on.

“We stayed in your bed for hours, wrapped up in one another. It was the laziest and softest day we had since we started dating. And there was that moment, and you told me that you wanted pause time.” A grimace of a smile forms, and it’s a bitter laugh that accompanies it. “You wanted to stay in that moment forever, do you remember that?”

Steve, who has been so emotionless through your every moment since you broke up, seems to finally crack. You watch emotions slide out of him as you wait for a response.

“I remember.” It’s a whisper, a barely audible acknowledgment of your past. If words could hold weight though, if they could carry more than a sound, you think those two would weigh a ton. They sound heavy at least, and for once you’re happy you don’t have to offer to carry them for Steve.

“So, when did that change?” You press on, encouraged by his response.

“I wish I could tell you. I wish there was a day or a time if that would help you. It was slow, and then it was just there and so I ended it.” Steve’s response is a rush of words, and his gaze isn’t even on you. It all collides together like a car crash. And just like a car crash once the collision hits, you can’t look away from it. It feels like a tragedy, and you know you shouldn’t stare, but human nature is human nature, and you can’t change that. Maybe there’s more to say after his confession but instead, Steve leaves without saying goodbye. His departure is quick and you calling his name is the only thing that follows him.

You stay stuck in that booth for a while, Steve’s words rolling around in your head like a tumbleweed. This was supposed to be closure, but it doesn’t feel like anything has been closed. You feel like you’re trying to piece a puzzle together but some of the pieces are still missing. Steve is the only one that has them but he’s refusing to let you see them, so you don’t even know what you’re trying to put together.

A small nagging part of you feels like there’s still more to this. Like something bigger is at play. But if Steve isn’t willing to share with the class despite all your opportunities for him to do so you’re at a loss. You have to, at a certain point, accept the fact that this is an unknown portion that you’ll never get answered. You hate that, hate how bitter it tastes, but you have no other choice than to find a way to work towards it. Because if nothing else, this night has shown that you can’t keep this candle burning when someone is actively blowing it out. It’s time to snuff the flame out yourself. You want to hope that maybe it’ll be easier once there’s some distance between Steve and yourself. Maybe if you’re no longer hiding from him at the grocery store that door that feels like it’s still wide open will start to close and you can move on.

______________________________________________________________

The day before you leave feels like a round of goodbyes. You hadn’t told anyone besides Steve that you’d be leaving early. Your friends are surprised, and you smile and tell them you’re just excited. Steve had always been your secret keeper, the only one that knew the fear you had around going to college. So, you know your lie will go over smoothly with your friends, and just like you’ve been doing for the remainder of the summer your mask of ‘I’m fine’ will help sell the story more.

It's the kids and Robin that you feel the most torn on, the ones that you struggle with when it comes to a goodbye. The breakup fractured a lot of things in your life, and it feels like maybe you lost them all somewhere this summer. They were never really yours though, so how you could have lost them you’re not sure. In the end, you solidify your resolve and even if it means nothing to them it does mean something to you. You’ve already worked your last shift, and yet you sit in the shared parking lot of your former work and the only place you’re guaranteed to find everyone you need all at once. Since the mall is long gone, this is the best place to be on a hot summer day. Unless you want to share the pool water with the rest of the Hawkins. You wait, you let Steve leave for his lunch, and you take that as your moment.

There’s no speech planned, nothing too major in your goodbye. Robin’s surprised face is what greets you when she looks towards the bell ringing. A soft exclamation of surprise escapes her and she looks confused. “I don’t want to waste your time,” you find yourself telling her. This is the quietest you’ve ever seen Robin.

“I just wanted to say goodbye. I know you’re his friend, and we haven’t really talked since… Well, you know when, but sometimes you felt like my friend too and so I just wanted to say goodbye before I left and that I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you before this.”

All your words sound so unsure, and you feel like you should be phrasing questions instead of just statements.

Silence hangs over the store, and you feel like if you don’t leave it’s just going to grow more awkward. “Okay, well then.” You mumble to yourself, and you force a smile and a wave before you turn to go. You make it to the door, it’s open and you are half in the heat and half in the air conditioning when Robin finally speaks.

“I’m sorry,” it’s not what you expect, and you throw a glance over your shoulder. Her face reflects the apology she’s given you. “We were friends, it’s just-” You shake your head and interrupt.

“It’s okay, Robin. He was your friend first, I’m glad that he had you and the kids.” You smile, and it feels real this time. “Maybe when I get back for winter break, we could be friends again?”

 “I’d like that.” Robin matches your smile, and her nod is enthusiastic. You wave one last time and head fully out into the heat, you’ve got one more stop right next door and then your goodbye tour of Hawkins will be over.

The kids are right where you expect them. Tangled together around one of the games, with Max behind the controls. You wait until the losing screen comes on before addressing them. Your goodbye with the kids is just as short as your one with Robin. “You know I’m kind of gonna miss watching you all hold these games hostage,” Your tone is cheerful, not at all scared like you feel inside. The kids are quick to turn around and it’s Will that matches your tone when he calls your name. Will has always been the kindest of the bunch, and he’s quick to hug your side while everyone else smiles and says hello.

Max is the one to break the greetings, always the most impulsive of the group. “What are you doing here, do you work today?”

“Uh no, actually I came here looking for you guys.” You feel like you stumble over your words, especially as Mike gives you the most suspicious look you’ve ever seen him throw your way. He’s always hard to please, but you feel like maybe you shouldn’t have added him to the goodbye tour after all.

“I just wanted to say goodbye, I know we haven’t talked this summer but still.” You find yourself shrugging as you finish talking.

“You’re leaving already?” It’s Dustin this time, and you find yourself surprised. He hasn’t talked to you since the breakup, and you assumed that would carry over to this conversation. His tone sounds disappointed, and you find yourself feeling guilty for a reason you can’t name.

“I leave tomorrow,” there’s a chorus of groans and refusals that leave the kids. Something like regret swells up because sure these were Steve’s kids first, but they were kinda yours too. You knew them before Steve and had a whole weird dynamic with them before you even knew Steve worked next door. A part of you feels like you messed up this summer by not making more of an effort with them.

“I’m sorry about this summer,” the expressions they turn your way feel like they know too much for kids who are too young to be wrapped up in your love life drama. “We’re sorry too,” Lucas tells you. “You have nothing to apologize for okay,” you look at each one of them, the look on your face leaves no room for argument. It’s always worked with the group.

“Maybe when I get home for winter break, we could all do something together?” You offer them the same olive branch that was extended to Robin. Everyone, Mike included you’re happy to note, nods their head. You find yourself ruffling Will’s hair, he’s still the closest to you. “It’s a plan,” you tell them. “I’ll let you get back to the game, make sure you keep that top spot!” Max tells you not to worry about it, a smirk already forming on her face. You give them all one last smile and make your way out of the building.

You think you’re done, and you feel as at peace as you think you can manage under the circumstances of it all. You unlock the door of your car, plans already in mind for what is left to pack up for the trip tomorrow when someone is calling out your name. You look up and find Dustin running towards you. You meet him part of the way, and he’s throwing his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight. There’s a huff of surprise that forces its way out upon the impact, but you don’t hesitate as you return the hug.

His voice is muffled, and you rub soothing circles on his back. “Dustin, I can’t understand you.” You keep your voice soft like you’re talking to a startled animal. It’s just a moment before he pulls back, and you’re met with a teary face. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you this summer,” Dustin’s words are rushed and come out as almost one sound. You find yourself shushing him and pulling him in for another hug. “You’re all good, it’s okay.”

You give him a minute to just feel his big feelings before you push him back. Your hands rest on his shoulders and you find you don’t have to bend down too far to meet his gaze. You wonder when he started getting so tall and remind yourself it was probably sometime this summer.

“Dustin, I’m not mad or upset or anything okay?” You wait for him to nod along to what you’re saying. “I’m sorry you got caught up in all this,” there’s enough stress on sorry that you think it could take off like a jet with the force you’re pushing it out. “Steve and I were the adults, you shouldn’t have been caught up in the middle, okay?”

Dustin looks like he’s going to argue, “No arguments! This was between us, and we should have made that clear.” Dustin stares at you for what feels like a minute before he nods.

“I’m gonna miss you,” is what Dustin tells you next. “Keith is never gonna be as cool as you. Whose going kick all the older kids off the games for me?” You laugh, happy to see him joking with you now.

“I’m going to miss you too, kid.” You give his shoulders a squeeze, “I’m going to give you a secret, use it responsibly, okay?” Dustin gives you an excited look and nods his head quickly, “I promise,” he says.

“If Keith gives you any trouble, just tell him that you know about Lucy.” Dustin has questions you can tell. “Keith won’t ask you to tell him, he’ll be too embarrassed. If he asks how you know, then you just tell him I told you. He’ll do whatever you want.”

There’s a part of you that feels like maybe you’ve given him too much power, but Dustin’s always been a smart kid and Keith has always been a dick to him, so you don’t feel too much remorse. Someone should be benefiting from the information anyway, and Dustin feels like the right one out of the party to hold on to the information.

“With great power comes great responsibility,” You quote to him, it’s a quip he used to tell Steve all the time before you started dating. Something from a comic book if you remember correctly.

Dustin’s smile is blinding, “You were always too cool for him you know, it’s his loss.” You smile and hope it doesn’t come off as sad as it feels. “Thanks, Dustin.”

You ruffle his hair, just like you had done to Will. Dustin bats at your hands and you push him toward the arcade, “Go spend time with your friends. I’ll see you in December.”

Dustin starts to go but turns back just as quickly. “You promise?” The happiness that had been there before has been replaced with worry again. “I pinky promise,” you hold out your pinky to show him you’re serious. Dustin comes back just to seal the promise and then waves goodbye again returning to the arcade.

The next morning, when every spare inch of space in your car is covered in your belongings, you finally feel like you could actually leave this place feeling okay. Things are not at all the way you thought they would be when the summer first started. You also still feel a weird sort of dread about attending college, but it feels like you could conquer it. If you could do this, this weird limbo break-up, then you think college can’t be that bad.

Your parents aren’t going with you. Despite their excitement and all the ways they’ve pushed you into this decision, they have both told you they feel you have to do this alone. Everything is set up for you, your dad has given you a paper with your new address on it and a credit card for emergencies. You know in both their eyes they’ve done their job as your parents. They’ve paved the way for success and now it’s your responsibility to make them proud.

It feels fitting that you leave Hawkins the same way you started the summer, all alone. You tell yourself that this is what you need. You tell yourself a lot of things as you make your way to the town line. You try not to look in the rearview mirror, too afraid that you’ll see everything you’re leaving behind and change your mind. You remind yourself it’s a few months, and that you can do this. You just hope that you aren’t lying to yourself. You may not feel happy, but you also don’t feel completely numb either. Maybe that’s the right type of progress though.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 8 - Christmas Delivery

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 7 -- Part 9

Pairing: Walter Marshall x OFC (Alexandra)

Summary: Surviving your parents' dull Christmas party has become a fun little tradition for you, your brother Peter and his best friend. This year, your brother won't make it back in time, but Marshall can keep you company.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, NSFW, MINORS DNI!, p-in-v sex (technically safe, not necessarily very smart, but there's some convo about it, at least), size kink (minor), oral (f receiving), alcohol consumption. And some angst. I'm sorry about that.

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: Not a lot to say about this other than; sorry it's so goddamn late, but enjoy some belated Christmas angst, I guess?

@peaches1958 there ya go, love!

“Christmas delivery!” The door to your room swung open and a tall, bearded young man stepped inside. You stuffed the book you’d been reading underneath the pillow, but not quickly enough for it to escape his attention. A sliver of mischief crossed his face. He put the bottle he was holding on the dresser by the door and dove for the book, trapping you beneath his body in the process. You didn’t stand a chance against him; he was far bigger than you and much - much - stronger. With the book in his one hand and a triumphant grin on his face, he rolled to the side so that he was next to you.��

“You’re reading this?” He laughed so hard when he saw the romance novel that you were afraid he’d suffocate. “Lex, you?” Another fit of laughter. Just when you thought your cheeks couldn’t get any hotter without melting your skin, he actually opened it to a page you’d been stupid enough to dog-ear. 

“God, it’s filth,” he chuckled as he threw the book across the room. 

“Walter Marshall!” You exclaimed while you shot up from the bed to retrieve your book. “If you came here just to throw my books around, I suggest you get out.” The bottle on the dresser beckoned you from its resting place. It was Baileys, something your parents always had at their annual Christmas party, that none of their guests actually drank. You, Walter and Peter (your older brother) had found out years ago - before it was strictly legal, for you, anyway - that it was the safest and easiest bottle to steal. 

“Why would you need that stuff, Lexi,” Marshall said as he sat up on your bed. You joined him, bottle in hand, and pushed against his shoulder. It was strange, now that it was just the two of you, but Peter wouldn’t make it back from uni until tomorrow afternoon.

“Because, Walter,” he winced, you chuckled - you knew he hated it when you used his first name; he loathed the name, and you loved exploiting that little fact. “If I want to ever have any kind of orgasm in this life, I’m going to have to make it happen myself.”

“You have that boyfriend, right? Ian? Mark? Shane? I lost count, I’m sorry - oof!” He groaned when you punched him in his abs. Your aim had never been perfect, and your fist landed a bit closer to his groin than you had intended. 

“Dean,” you replied - and for the record, there was never a Mark. “He dumped me for Laetitia, I think. I don’t really give a fuck. Besides, it’s not as if he was any help in the aforementioned department.”

“So, find another guy?” The laconicism of his recommendation hurt a bit; growing up, Marshall had always been like a brother to you, but you’d never forget the summer you turned sixteen. It was over three years ago, but you remembered it as if it was yesterday. 

“Alex, get over here!” Your brother had never had much patience. Especially not when barbecue - or meat in general - was involved, but your mom absolutely refused to feed anyone before every last soul was present at the table. You climbed out of the pool and made your way over to the tent, where the rest of your family was sitting. The Marshalls had joined you - not that they had to go far; they were your neighbors, anyway. Walter and Peter were putting the last plates down when you got there. Neither of them had bothered to put any more clothes on than they’d been wearing before, when you’d all been swimming. For some reason, you hadn’t noticed then, but now it hit you like a truck: Walter Marshall was hot… Distracted by the faint lines on his abs and confused by how not-gross the hair on his chest was all of a sudden - because you could have sworn you had found it absolutely disgusting literally yesterday - you didn’t watch your chair when you sat down. It wasn’t unfolded properly, and it decided to collapse when you dropped yourself into it. 

“Fuck!” You exclaimed - and were met with two “language!”-s from both your and Walter’s mom. 

“Are you alright, Lexi?” Two blue eyes appeared before you and strong arms grabbed you and pulled you off the ground. 

“Don’t call me Lexi,” you huffed as you prepared for him to let go - though you wouldn’t mind having his arms wrapped around you a little longer. 

“She’s okay, everyone,” he laughed before turning back to you: “And, eh… No dice… Lexi.”

“Lexi?” The bottle of Baileys appeared in front of your eyes. You gladly took it from the strong hand that held it there, as the memory of that camping trip faded to the background again. 

“No luck with other guys, either, so far,” you said without thinking. As soon as you realized what you’d said, you began hoping furiously that Walter hadn’t noticed, but of course mister detective always had to catch on to absolutely fucking everything. 

“Hold on,” he said in disbelief, “no guy has ever…” His voice trailed off and you shook your head in response. Marshall seemed at a loss for words. The both of you drank in silence for a while, as was originally the custom; neither of you spoke much, you mostly just enjoyed each other’s company. Your brother - believe it or not - was the talkative one out of the three of you. And he wasn’t here, therefore it took the two of you three quarters of that bottle to continue your conversation. A conversation you probably shouldn’t have been having in the first place. He was your brother’s best friend, for crying out loud.

“Jesus, Lexi, that doesn’t sound like good sex to me,” he muttered - quite hurriedly, as if he was ashamed of what he said. You shrugged. He was right, it hadn’t been good, but Walter didn’t need to know that. One of Marshall’s strong arms snaked around your body and pulled you into his side. His body was like a goddamn wall: solid and absolutely massive. You rested your head against his shoulder and sighed.

“I’m sorry, Lex,” he whispered, “you deserve better.” Oh, God, the alcohol. Your first year at college had proven that you could and should not be trusted around the stuff, and you cursed yourself, because you knew this. You’d just thought you could trust yourself around Marshall, him being one of your best friends and all - and your brother's best friend - but your brain watched from the sidelines as your mouth betrayed you.

“Well, I don’t see it happening, unless you volunteer.” 

Option one; A “Good one, Lexi!” and a playful tickle at your waist. Two; A “Jesus, Lexi, get off me!” and a firm push against your shoulder. Three; A “Fuck’s sake, Lexi, why would I want to screw you?!” followed by a thundering laugh. Four… You didn’t have time to think of a fourth scenario, but even if you would have, this would not have been what you’d have come up with. Marshall’s hand cupped your face and he pressed his lips to yours. He kissed you. Walter Marshall was kissing you. Right now. He was, he really was. Your brain short-circuited in the most profound “no thoughts, head empty” kind of way. Thank God for the tiny little voice that, after a few long moments, finally had the gall to tell you: Do something or he will think you’re not into this and he will stop. You broke the kiss and slammed the bottle you were still holding down on your nightstand before returning your attention to Marshall’s lips. You could taste the whiskey on them, and the soft, sweet taste of chocolate… The taste combined so well with the scent of his cologne that you thought you’d go insane. Your hands slid up his sides and over his chest before settling in his dark curls and you moaned into his mouth. He replied with a chuckle. 

“What?” You whispered when his mouth left yours and his head dipped into your neck. 

“Just glad you’re having fun,” he murmured against your skin. The coarse hair of his beard tickled, which meant it was your turn to chuckle, but the sound got stuck in your throat and was replaced by a soft whimper when his lips touched your neck. You leaned to the side and pulled him along with you, until you were lying on the bed in a half-on-top-half-next-to-each other pile of bodies. Every single time his lips came into contact with your skin - be it your neck, your mouth, your collarbone or that cheeky nip at the part of your breast that your blouse left exposed - you whined. More, your body screamed, more, more, more! You felt it everywhere; in your cheeks, that radiated heat and must have been glowing red for him to see, in your throat, that let out or choked back whines, moans and the occasional ‘fuck’, your chest, where your heart pounded and your breath hitched, and the pit of your stomach. If these were the proverbial butterflies, you never wanted him to leave, ever again. It was as if you’d never been kissed before. The feeling of a palm brushing your chest heightened another feeling; the increasing ache between your legs that you only now realized was so unfamiliar to you in a context involving another person. A small part of you wanted to push him off, berate him for invading your most private and intimate of emotions, but a much, much bigger part of you swore to God and anyone who would listen that if this man ever let go of you, you’d explode. Marshall was unceremonious when it came to your clothes; he opened two buttons of your blouse before just pulling it over your head, and he hardly bothered to look at your bra before it flew across the room. His own sweater followed suit in a matter of seconds. God, you thought as he towered over you in that moment, half naked and tall and all those other things you couldn’t quite articulate but you knew he was, nonetheless, how much hairier can a man get in three years time? Seeing him like this drove you insane, and you secretly wondered what had been wrong with fifteen year old you that she hadn’t found him attractive, then. Walter Marshall was no romantic, but he always knew what needed doing, and got it done. His hands and mouth explored your naked skin, allowing you to do the same. You ran your fingers through the dark, coarse curls on his chest, and along the muscles of his back, digging your nails into his shoulder when he softly bit your nipple. 

“Hey!” You exclaimed in surprise at the unfamiliar feeling, earning you another chuckle. 

“Did I hurt you?” He then asked earnestly, and you responded by shaking your head. 

“Just startled me,” you laughed nervously. The next nip was less startling and the slight sting was smoothed over by a swirl of his tongue. You couldn’t keep your body still underneath his as his mouth, assisted by his hands, explored your chest - and soon your stomach, lower and lower until he arrived at the waistband of your skirt. Not that the fabric of it was still in place; it was mostly bunched up around your hips at this point. The skirt suffered a fate much like that of your bra and blouse, and now the only thing separating your aching pussy from Marshall’s face was the thin cotton fabric of your panties. Startled by the sudden realization that your childhood crush had his face between your thighs, you snapped your legs together, forgetting that his face would be caught in between. 

“Alright,” he laughed as he got up on his knees and leaned over to give you a kiss on your forehead, “can we make a deal? If you don’t want me to do something, tell me. I promise I’ll stop. Just… There really is no need to kick me in the head or whatever that was.” You couldn’t help but laugh, too, but the inclination disappeared as fast as it had arisen when he bent over even further to whisper something in your ear. 

“I’m begging you, though, let me get back down there because you smell fantastic.” As if those words were your own personal remix of ‘open sesame’, your legs fell to the side and Marshall eagerly made his way back down, pressing a few wet kisses on you along the way. One moment you were wearing underwear, the next it was gone and you were completely naked. Marshall threw you the blanket that was at the foot of the bed and winked at you while he settled between your legs, and you gratefully spread it out over your upper body. Marshall shook his head while he laughed. You were always cold, and this was so completely in-character for you that he couldn’t help but find the whole thing very amusing. It wasn’t long, though, before he composed himself and focused his attention on the task at hand. You could tell from the look on his face that he was deciding whether or not to drag this out. Luckily, he decided against it. With one hand on the back of each thigh, and using his thumbs to spread your swollen lips, he dragged his tongue through your wet folds before settling at your clit, working the small pearl with a strong, dependable rhythm that had you squirming within seconds. He could tell you wouldn’t last long, which egged him on even more. Not because it would save him a cramped jaw, but because there was nothing in the entire world that he wanted more than to be responsible for your pleasure. Every single move of his tongue wound you tighter and tighter until you felt you were going to explode. Your fingers tangled with his hair, pulling his face closer to your body, hips writhing against his mouth, begging for more until you finally toppled over the edge. You had to cover your face with your pillow to keep your screams from being heard throughout the house. As the intense feeling of bliss slowly subsided, you became more and more aware of the trail of kisses that Marshall left on your torso as he made his way back up, lingering in your neck for a moment before kissing your mouth again. Your first instinct was to push him off - he’d just been down there and now he was kissing you? Ew! - but you soon found out that tasting yourself on his lips was arousing more than anything. Without thought, your hands moved to open the button of his jeans, and you were surprised when he stopped you. 

“Lexi, are you sure?” He breathed into your mouth. There was genuine concern in his voice, but you couldn’t quite figure out why. 

“Shut up, Marshall, I want you,” you hissed into his ear, and from the pained half-grunt-half-whine he let out, you deduced that he wanted the same. Your fingers continued to work the button and zipper of his jeans, this time with his help. When you brushed past the bulge in his underwear, your eyes opened wide and you gasped. There is no way in hell, you thought involuntarily as panic set in. 

“Is it too late to change my mind?” There was no way he couldn’t hear the way your voice trembled. 

“Never,” he said earnestly, “you can always change your mind. What are you worried about?” You looked at him in disbelief - was he really asking that question? Walter Marshall you arrogant cunt, you thought. He had to know he was massive, right? 

“You’re kidding, right?” A sardonic chuckle spilled from your throat as you thought about the ridiculousness of that question. “There’s no way that’ll ever…” Your voice trailed off without finishing that sentence - not that you needed to; Walter’s face had already warped into a needlessly cocky smile.

“Do you trust me?” You replied with a nod. “Will you tell me if I hurt you?” Another nod. “And can you try to relax?” This time, you whispered a very soft ‘yes’. “Do you have a condom?” He asked while eyeing your nightstand. 

“Do we need one?” You moaned against his neck. 

“Lexi!” He looked at you in disbelief, one eyebrow raised and with an open mouth. 

“I’m clean and on birth control,” you said matter-of-factly, the look on your face phrasing the accompanying question: Are you? He answered your unspoken question with a simple nod while he weighed the pros and cons in his head. Your hand moved between your two bodies and - again with his help - pulled his underwear down. Feeling it had in no way prepared you for seeing it; you swallowed hard and tried to get a grip on your lower lip, which trembled uncontrollably. 

“I said something about trying to relax, and I meant it, Lexi,” he chuckled before pressing his lips to your neck. Despite his reminder, your entire body tensed up as you felt the head of his cock press gently at your entrance. God this is going to hurt so bad, you thought and you scrunched up your face, awaiting the pain. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, love,” he whispered as if he could read your mind, “trust me, tell me if I accidentally do hurt you, and chill.” You took a deep breath and focused on breathing calmly while he began slowly inching his way inside of you, keeping careful watch on your face for any signs of discomfort. Sighs and moans escaped from your throat as he sank deeper and deeper into your drenched core. He was right; it didn’t hurt. That’s a first, you thought - at least; you thought you thought it. 

“First? Lex, tell me I didn’t just…” Fuck, you’d actually said that out loud.

“No, no,” you interrupted him with a chuckle, “it’s just the first time it doesn’t hurt…” 

Marshall gawked at you for a moment before a smile appeared on his face. “I’m glad I’m not hurting you,” he whispered before he kissed you while pushing all the way into you. You answered the kiss hungrily, frantically sliding your tongue along his lips, begging for entrance. He was more than happy to oblige, parting his lips so your tongue could slip between them and circle his. The feeling of his mouth on yours was overwhelming on its own, but combined with the incredibly full feeling of his thick cock deep inside you, it was almost too much. You rocked your hips, trying to get him to move, to give you more than just this, looking for the friction that would bring you release. It didn’t take a detective to understand that hint; Marshall started moving his hips at your request. They were short, shallow thrusts at first, which already left you moaning and whining like a… Like a desperate slut? It was the best description you could come up with. It only got worse as the thrusts became deeper, faster and harder. You pulled the blanket up to your mouth to stifle your screams as the sound of skin against skin became louder and filled the room. 

“Marshall.. I can’t…” You sighed in between moans, your breath completely out of control and slight soreness setting in where his hips slammed into you. 

“Hang on… please… close…” was all he could say as his breathing and movements became more and more erratic. He hadn’t been lying when he said he was close; it took only a couple more seconds for him to finish. You were both glad and sad that it was over, yet your sigh as you felt his cock slip out of you must have sounded more like the former than the latter, because Marshall immediately looked at you suspiciously. 

“Not good?” He asked as he stroked your hair out of your face. 

“A little sore, you’re a lot,” you laughed before kissing him softly on his lips. You wriggled out from under him and started looking for your clothes, which were scattered on the floor around your bed. Marshall looked at you questioningly from your bed. 

“Bathroom,” you explained as you hastily got dressed and made your way out of the room. 

When you got back, Marshall had put his own clothes back on and was sitting on the edge of the bed with the bottle of Baileys in his hands. You joined him on the bed and wrapped your arms around him, only to be sorely disappointed when he didn’t return your affection, and instead stared ahead stoically while taking another sip. 

“I just fucked my best friend’s little sister,” he sighed as he let his head hang. Your arms dropped to your side, the floor vanished from beneath you and it felt like you were falling. 

“You regret it.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, and you just knew you were right when you said it. Marshall, however, shook his head and chuckled sarcastically. 

“I regret that I don’t because I know that I should,” he said. 

Well, happy fucking Christmas to you.

-> Part 9

[ravensvirginity]

I just saw your post about Raven’s relationship to sex and I knew it was probably sort of out there in the comics, but I didn’t actually know her total origin.

I’m like, half working on this DCYA graphic novel concept around and older Raven (idk how she ages, but the concept art I’ve made has her in her mid to late thirties), adopting a younger relative found on another planet. I don’t really know the lore well, so I wasn’t sure if younger half brother, or nephew, or something else makes the most sense, and I was basing him loosely off of Razer from Green Lantern the animated series.

The story is ultimately more about him and his love interest because it’s a YA concept, but I thought it was interesting I got some of the Raven lore right on accident. As the story idea revolved around a teenage alien with powers tied to strong emotions falling in love with a robot who secretly has a soul and the drama and angst that comes with it. I had him ask Raven how to have a relationship when you have emotion powers and her answer was basically you don’t.

My logic was stemming from her powers and also the fact I can’t really think of any love interests that make sense to me (Damien and Beast Boy being the only two, and I don’t really care for either as a love interest tbh). But the trauma of what happened to her mother would add a dimension to it, since this adopted son character would not really know much if anything about the demon side of his family.

Anyways, I really need to read the classic comics! Sorry is this is sort of incoherent lol, I’m running on not a lot of sleep. But I just wanted to share my idea and Raven concept. I’m glad I found this blog because a lot of the modern Raven stuff feels like a flanderization of the 03 show. I imagine the departure is even stronger to a fan of the OG raven.

Okay wow, you have no idea how excited this ask made me! I would love to hear more about your graphic novel concept. It sounds really fun!

I think either half brother or nephew could work, though I'd personally lean more towards half brother. In the original version of Raven and Trigon, Raven is his only surviving child after over a hundred failed attempts. However, this was retconned in 2008 and since then Raven has had some form of either brothers or siblings in general (generally she's relegated to being the only girl though).

That being said, there is a noncanon graphic novel that takes place during the 80s timeline where it's revealed that Raven had a forgotten sister who kind of slipped through the cracks. Her sister goes insane without anyone to teach her how to use her powers, and Trigon doesn't know she exists so she's just kind of left to languish on Earth. I feel like this is the most similar to your concept! New Teen Titans: Games, though I'd recommend reading the regular series before you read the graphic novel.

"I had him ask Raven how to have a relationship when you have emotion powers and her answer was basically you don’t." This is incredibly Raven imo. I think she could mostly be a good mentor, but she has a lot of baggage related to how she was trained to use her powers and her trauma from Trigon in general, and she'd probably inadvertently end up passing that along to a sibling who has the same heritage as her.

Yeah, I'm not big on either of those ships either. Raven having to teach her relative about their family would be so interesting and is such a fun concept! Unfortunately, I'd imagine that he would have been conceived in a very similar way to Raven, given the way Trigon behaves. I'd be really curious to know what happened to his mother and how he ended up in Raven's care. Seriously, I'd love to read this story!

I totally recommend the classic comics, I love them dearly. While some elements of them have definitely aged poorly, I don't think any future version of Raven managed to be better than the original. I really agree about modern Raven feeling like a flanderization of 03 Raven, unfortunately. Toon Raven is not a perfect adaptation of Raven's original comic characterization and there are changes that I would've never made myself, but she's a much better version of Raven than whatever is going on in the current comics. Her current appearance and personality is really like someone trying and failing to guess what made toon Raven popular and pumping out an almost completely unrecognizeable character as a result.

Thanks again for this ask, feel free to send me more if you'd like! I'm always so happy to talk about Raven.

[chryzure-archive]

HI MEM!! here’s a pass to go on a book rant (because i love when you’re a hater hehe… esp if we’re hating together >:)) AND AS FOR TRYSI ASKS… gimme some songs for them pre-breakup and post-breakup 😳😳 i expect ANGST!!

THANK YOU FOR THE RANT PASS, WE ALL KNOW WHAT I’M GOING TO RANT ABOUT THIS TIME… I’M SORRY, I HAVE OTHER BOOKS I COULD RANT ABOUT, BUT LET’S TALK ABOUT THE DISGRACE OF A SPIN-OFF SERIES THAT DID MY PRETTYBOY SOO DIRTY

re: evangeline being a shitty character. hoh boy. yikes. like, she was pumped straight out of “generic ya protagonist” factory with all the default settings and stephanie went “yes, this is good character building”. …. i’d be more interested in a shallow character. i said it in my previous tags, but there could at least be a somewhat interesting dynamic there. maybe it would be hilarious to stick jacks with a character boring as bricks!!!! ((this is why simeon and jacks make a very funny friendship dynamic)). maybe it would be cool to explore a character that’s shallow developing depth??? maybe we could have a character with, like, a legit backstory? but a) evangeline’s boring, and b) she’s just a poorly-written reader-insert, since stephanie wanted to appease the fangirls in love with this bitchy fate. sorry, but jacks wants a bitch <3 he needs a spitfire girl to keep him in his place <333 evangeline needs to go to her pre-calc class, she’s failing rn.

((related: still thinking of that one post i saw where somebody was like “stop saying evangeline is stupid and make bad decisions! she’s just feminine! say you hate women next time!” …… so naturally feminine women make bad decisions??? they’re stupid?????? is that what you’re saying??? also, like??? the original protagonists were highly feminine characters??? i’m so confused with how femininity MUST mean trad-wife, LIKE WHAT??? ? anyway, evangeline is a bad character, but not bc she’s feminine. it’s because she’s poorly written.)

OH YEAH, WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU A) ADMIT TO NOT KNOWING HOW YOU WANT TO END THE SERIES, AND B) ADMIT THAT YOU PLOTTED THE SECOND NOVEL FROM JACKS’S POV AND DECIDED TO LEAVE EVANGELINE WAITING AROUND FOR HIM TO COME BACK WITH PLOT-RELAVENT DETAILS???shitty, boring writing, couldn’t figure out what to do, so we leave the protagonist in her perfect little cage because she’s a boring doll for jacks to toss around when he’s around. no, sorry—because even if evangeline were a doll, she would be a more interesting character. i mean it.

((side note: you can have a traditionally feminine character with pink hair actually do shit btw…. like luna rune is right there, getting shit done, and then she’s happy to settle down with simeon and have three kids. like, it makes sense for her character arc to be badass and travel through time, and then end up with a happy life at the end of it all…… it’s possible to write something where that’s fulfilling. god, it’s like stephanie wrote a random character and decided to slap jacks’s name on him so he could be attractive as a “villain”. he’s a sopping wet cat with the remains of his failed schemes scattered around him. ALSO, HE’S NOT MUSCULAR, HE CAN’T FIGHT, THERE’S NO WAY HE CAN SHOOT A FUCKING BOW AND ARROW.))

i’m DONE.

———

anyway.. trysi pre-breakup:

every little thing she does is magic by the police ((…PEAK HIGH SCHOOL TRYSI, I CRY))

only the good die young by billy joel ((i like thinking of chrysi pulling tris from his shell to this song… tris’s mom does NOT like chrysi, because chrysi gets him in a lot of trouble, so that’s what this song makes me think of :)) that said, tris’s dad LOVES chrysi for that exact reason LMAO))

kiss me you animal by burn the ballroom ((he sings this and then goes on a date with chrysi and is like “;;;;;;;;;;; hi…… can we… what if we… uhhh kiss?” “……..you remember those cleaning closets. why are you acting like this?” UMM…))

trysi post-breakup:

superstar by carpenters ….. IT’S FINE, THIS SONG DOESN’T KILL ME EVERY TIME.

always something there to remind me by naked eyes ((lyrically… it’s a bit upbeat for their breakup, but the lyrics are soooo tris going around and being reminded of their relationship. he loved her so much…))

more than a feeling by boston (again, lyrically, it fits?? but it’s a bit more upbeat than i think tris would listen to. THAT SAID, I LOVE THIS SONG TOO MUCH. YOU’RE STUCK WITH IT.)

i hope ur doing well (feat. colliding with mars) by savage ga$p, colliding with mars ((juno and i love to say that tris would make songs abt chrysi like this allll the time if his bandmates didn’t stop him. it’s so whiny <33 i think it’s hilarious))

i wanna know by tea ((OKAY, LIKE, I’M ACTUALLY SERIOUS ABOUT THIS ONE. I LOVE THE LYRICS AND THE VIBE. IT’S TRIS AND CHRYSI ABOUT EACH OTHER))

the killing kind by marianas trench ((particularly the way it sounds, but lyrics fit somewhat??? i loooove this song though hehe))

unrelated songs that make me think of tris:

night life by hello atlantic ((tris accidentally turned into a murderous vampire on one of his concert nights??? oh???? and chrysi now has to help him??? what a shame!))

sad (clap your hands) by young rising sons ((he’s my pathetic little babygirl, you must understand…))

coward by those who dream ((PEAK TRIS SONG, HE’S GOT SOOOO MUCH UNRESOLVED ANXIETY. DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT))

rot by dbmk ((idk, it makes me think of him… the idea that he’s rotten to the core appeals to me, like—i think he views himself that way!!! esp when he can’t control his magic and he hurts ppl because he gets easily distressed—but also, that he wants so much more, and it makes him feel like he’s rotten??? AAUGH.))

dream on by aerosmith ((mostly, i think he’d like this song in general. and he’d sound soooo pretty while singing it <33))

[ur-friendly-nbhd-cardassian]

🛒🎶🦅 for the writer asks :)

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

Angst :). I'm impossible, I just can't let my characters enjoy life. Things just don't make sense to me without it. And I need things to make sense, otherwise I can't write them. I often brainstorm for long hours before I write a particularly difficult scene, just to figure out what makes sense. And it's usually angsty, because that's life for ya.

I tend to put stuff from my own life in them, too, things I'm trying to process. Writing lets me explore them safely, figure out what to do irl. That includes uneasy parenthood, narcissistic partners and friends, inability to fit anywhere and so on. Recently, though, I try to use it consciously to increase my irl satisfaction by writing how I would like my life to go. Mainly the relationships, romantic and otherwise. Instead of having fun writing about assholes (Dukat, Gortash), I try to help my OCs grow and stop being drawn to such figures and instead appreciate a good guy in their life (Damar, Halsin). I feel like it works, because in the past any project that started with an asshole didn't get far - probably part of my "must-make-sense" approach, because deep down I knew the people I made my OCs into wouldn't be happy with those guys.

Despite being bi, I can't help but write hetero pairings. I want to break this habit at some point, but the thing is I'm not sure if I have the necessary... knowledge xD. It's all very fresh to me (and kinda scary). Everything in due time, I guess :).

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

I love listening to music while writing, it sets the mood. I tend to create new playlists for each project now, as I've realized how tied to the music the story becomes - and how easy it is to get back into that groove whenever I listen to that specific list. I pick a song or two and let Spotify help me find new music to write to, so I can have a completely fresh feeling :)

My most recent Spotify list for writing the sequel to my DS9 novel 'The Casualty' is here (playing on a loop right now, lol):

(Just to be perfectly clear, being on this site, if there is anything at all un-kosher with the songs or the artists, I have no idea and very little interest, I need the music and that's that.)

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

I always thought I was best in chaos and uncertainty, unrestricted, but I hardly ever finished a story. Ever since I wrote TC - which I outlined at least partially (outlined and re-outlined as my direction changed) and collected an insane amount of notes for - and actually finished it, I realized you need both to actually complete a quality project :D.

You engage your creativity while pantsing, coming up with wild stuff that makes the story worth reading, and you utilize your logical skills when you outline, so you know what you're doing, where you're going - if you happen to get lost during pantsing, you can easily find the lost thread thanks to your outline. So now I try to outline what's needed and pant the rest.

I still often get caught in the editing circle, though, where I come back to a story after a while, re-read it and edit it (and get excited about it), but by the time I get to the end of what I have, I lose all will to write xD. My AO3 has a few things I still struggle to finish and probably shouldn't have published them - but hey, even unfinished things have their value.

Thanks, anon, that was very sweet of you <3 I had fun answering these questions. I have so much to say about my writing it's kinda choking me when I can't xD - but I never quite know how to just spill that stuff into the void... so, thanks again <3

Asks based on » https://www.tumblr.com/ur-friendly-nbhd-cardassian/754236014551252992?source=share

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC Review: A Curse of Blood and Wolves by Melissa McTernan

2.5/5. Releases 10/1/2023.

Vibes: light werewolves, paranormal with a new adult sensibility, very very very faint Little Red Riding Hood

I really love Little Red Riding Hood, which is why I requested this book. While there is obviously a LRRH inspo, it's super cursory. At the end of the day, this book reminded of one of my YA obsessions of yesteryear, Maggie Stiefvater's Wolves of Mercy Falls series. Of course, it's much more explicit, and the writing style definitely leads more New Adult. This isn't YA, to be super clear.

Unfortunately, I don't think it quite worked as a mature romance. While I was entertained at points, my attention wasn't held, and I think there were some easily avoided mistakes made.

Quick Takes:

--One issue I had with this book was Rafe's general self-loathing. Now, I like a self-loathing hero; but there's that, and there's mopey. Often, Rafe seemed dejected and sorrowful, and just plain dull.

This contrasted to Ruby, a heroine who was introduced in a very Jughead-ian "I'm weirdo. I'm a weirdo" manner, but brightened in a way I found... if not super unique, nice. I wasn't enamored with Ruby, but I honestly didn't really get what she saw in Rafe, aside from him being generally hot and good at sex.

--And about that connection... or lack there of. This is a mating bond book, and I'm not against that. In fact, I think all the werewolf books I've loved have been fated mates books. It's part of the werewolf appeal. But when I think about my favorite mating bond books... When I think about, for example, Kresley Cole's Lykae novels which handle it so well... The issue is that while the hero immediately wants to protect, have sex with, conquer his heroine--he doesn't actually love her. He adores her, maybe, because of his instinct. But he does notknow or love her. Additionally, this is met by friction from the heroine, and in the end he must realize that she cannot be conquered because he's fallen in love with her as a fully realized person.

Here, once Ruby finds out about the werewolfitude, she takes it in remarkable stride (like, I don't need ten chapters of agonizing, but girl goes from "there is nothing paranormal" to "there is a naked werewolf and we're vibin'" so easily). That tension? Is gone. They just like each other, and he's so devoted, and that's all nice. But it's not very interesting, at least not to me.

--Ruby really doesn't ever seem concerned enough about anything with respect to its importance. Rafe angsts about everything, and with Ruby it's like... Girl, wake up. There's some seriously intense shit going on, maybe be a little more active?

--I actually didn't mind the fact that a lot of the werewolf stuff was more mood and vibes, versus much unique societal structuring. I don't think that's inherently a bad thing, and like I said, it reminded me of the sort of vaguely magical "small town YA romance with monsters" thing I used to gobble up. But here, it just didn't feel very real. I think the writing style just didn't linger enough. It told the story in the plainest way possible, and the characters and dialogue weren't compelling enough to make up for that.

The Sex:

The sex scenes are solid. I liked them--and I especially liked the whole "we cannot have sexual intercourse because werewolf stuff but we CAN do everything else" thing. I liked that Ruby saw that as sex, and I liked that they did get creative with it. Interestingly, this is like, at least the third werewolf book I've read where he couldn't put it in Because Reasons. The focus on pleasure versus anatomy was good.

While I didn't hate this book by any means, I really didn't get into it either. There was potential, but I think this was just the most straightforward route possible. That said, I can see New Adult lovers getting into it.

Thanks to One More Chapter and Netgalley for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[beels-burger-babe]

A Little Voice Told Me - Pt.2

Poly! MC Summary: Words hurt and leave their scars. MC learns this the hard way after hearing some not-so-nice whispers about them while on a date with Beel. How are they supposed to be the partner of the seven lords of the Devildom when they just don't measure up? Part 1: HERE, Part 3: HERE ***Good Golly!! Y'all really like the angst, huh? Here you guys go. Cry your hearts out and enjoy! - B*** Beelzebub woke up the rest of his brothers early the next morning. While most of them attempted to flip him off or threaten him at the initial disturbance, all it took was him saying that they needed to talk about you for them to shoot out of bed. In a matter of minutes, all of them, except Levi, were seated around the breakfast table. "If we're talking about MC, why aren't they here?" Satan asked while poking at a piece of fruit. "I don't know about you, but I personally don't feel right talking about them behind their back." Belphie scoffed and laid his head in his arms. "It's not like we're gossiping about them or anything. They were acting off last night, and Beel thought we should discuss what we're gonna do about it." Beel nodded, "They pulled into themself halfway through the night, and was upset but kept brushing me off whenever I tried to talk to them about it." Mammon huffed and crossed his arms. "Maybe they just didn't feel like they could talk to ya about it," he rose to his feet and began to walk towards the door. "I'm the first! I'm sure I can get it out of them, easy peasy! I'll just head in there and-" "Mammon, sit down!" Lucifer hissed. Mammon grumbled under his breath but did as told. Lucifer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We've talked about this. Stop bringing up the whole 'first man' thing. MC is in a relationship with all of us. Not just you." The second-born pouted and stabbed an egg with his fork.

Lucifer rolled his eyes at his brother's antics and looked back at Beel. "Something clearly happened during the date. Do you have any ideas at all at what it could've been?" Asmodeus stirred a swirly straw around in his drink. "I mean, I would be pretty upset if I spent three hours of my evening at a barbaric sporting event too," Asmo chuckled and smirked. "The only good thing about sports is that you get to see all those rippling muscles of the athletes in action." Beel scowled at his brother took a bite out of the omelet that was on his plate. "It wasn't because of the game. MC loves coming to my Fangol games and was having a blast with me until halftime. Something had to have happened while I was gone." Asmodeus opened his mouth to counter the statement when Leviathan came rushing into the room carrying his laptop. Lucifer raised an eyebrow at the sight, "What have I told you about devices at the table?" Leviathan shot him an annoyed look as he plopped down in one of the chairs. "This isn't about table etiquette. This is about MC," he looked over at Beel and Belphie. "I think I have an idea on what may have caused them to start distancing themselves." Everyone perked up in interest at the news; each one of them eager to know what was distressing their loved one so much that they felt like they couldn't talk to them. "Well are you going to tell us, or are you just going to sit there?" Satan quipped, his anger beginning to get the better of him as he sat on the edge of his seat. Levi gave him a flat look before he typed a few things on his keyboard. "I was doing a raid last night trying to keep my mind off of what might've happened with MC and decided to ask my party members about it," Leviathan's expression darkened as he began to explain. It was clear to everyone that whatever was said, wasn't taken lightly by the otaku. Rather than reading the conversation out loud, he turned his laptop screen for all his brothers to see. Leviachan: Gaaah! I just can't focus on the game tonight. My partner came back from a date tonight and has been acting kind of sus. There's definitely something bothering them, but they refuse to tell anyone. Ruri-Chans-Husbando: Dude, you're talking about that stupid human right? Why are you even with them? You shouldn't give a Normie like them the time of day. Waifu-Addict: Exactly! Listen, we've all been talking and you need to drop that whore. They're totally just using you and your brothers for your titles and power. The demons read in horror and rage as the chat room filled with messages from the members of Leviathan's party all saying similar garbage about you and degrading you in every way they could think of. Satan stood up and began to pace near the table as he used every inch of his self-control to keep himself from lashing out. "I want names, Levi. Who are they and why do they seem to think it's okay to talk about MC like- like that?!" Satan snarled as he curled his hands into fists. Levi tsked and crossed his arms, as Lucifer took the laptop to look more closely at the messages. "You say that as if I haven't already used my 'title and power' as Grand Admiral to have my men collect and imprison them. They're at the navy base waiting for us to get our hands on them as soon as we sort this whole mess out." Belphie growled, now sitting up and wide awake. "Get our hands on them is right. No one gets away with this shit," Asmodeus glared at the computer as though it had just dyed all of his clothing brown. "Rotten brats. They're all just jealous of stunning MC. Ugh, Diavolo, haters are the worst." Beel pushed his plate away from himself as he frowned deeply. "As disgusting and horrible as this is, what does it have to do with MC getting all quiet during our date?" A low rumble came from Lucifer as he handed the laptop back to Levi. A fiery hatred was burning brightly in his eyes as he gritted his teeth. "If a bunch of anti-social shut-ins are going around talking about our dearest MC like this, I believe Leviathan's point is that others probably are."

"Ouch. I wasn't going to say it l-like that, but yes," Levi winced and continued, "MC probably overheard people saying something about them. I mean, if people said that crap about me I'd probably hide in my room and not come out for months!" Mammon, who had been surprisingly quiet during all of this, had a very serious expression on his face. "Right, and we don't want MC to go through that. For Diavolo's sake, they've left alone to overthink this enough," Mammon stood up and headed towards the door again, Satan hot on his trail. "I'm going up to there to talk with them. Ya'll are welcome to come with, but you ain't stoppin' me." "Actually, Mammon, you're not. We should wait until MC comes to us," Lucifer interrupted. An animalistic snarl tore its way from Satan's throat as what little self-control he had snapped. Wrath incarnate lunged himself at Lucifer, grabbing his older brother by the collar of his cloak. "Are you serious, Lucifer?! You're seriously putting your stupid pride first, now?!? MC needs us!" Lucifer growled and pushed Satan off of him as he stood to size him up. "No. What they need is to not feel pressured to open up when they aren't ready! We can't make them feel like they can't come to us!" Mammon scoffed from where he stood in the back. "Oh, cause that's perfect logic! News flash, oh wise one, They ain't gonna come to us if they're thinkin' they're a burden! But you wouldn't know anything about that would you?!" Lucifer's eyes widen and he took a step back in shock at the statement. "What is that supposed to mean?" Mammon and Satan both opened their mouths to put Lucifer in his place when Beel all of sudden cleared his throat loudly. All three of the angry demons turned to snap at him but froze as they saw you standing in the room behind them. They instantly straightened themselves up gave you their full attention. The air seemed to lay still between you as everyone waited for the other to make the first move. As with almost every situation, it was Mammon who broke the silence. He took a step towards you. "MC, I was just coming to get you actually. There's somethin' we all wanna talk to you about." They could hear your breath catch in your throat as you took a step back. Panic filled your eyes the moment the words left his mouth. "O-Oh. I, um, I was actually just going to grab an apple and then head off to RAD for class. M-Maybe we can talk afterwards?" Satan frowned as you walked past him towards the fruit bowl. "MC, it's the weekend." You stopped mid-step. An uncomfortable tension filled the room as the obvious excuse was exposed. The brothers waited for you to move, to speak, to do something to give them any sort of sign for what you wanted them to do, but you just stood there, still like a statue except for the tremors in your hand. "Come on, Darling," Asmodeus spoke softly. His face clearly showed the hurt and concern that was coursing through him. "Everything's alright, I promise. We just need to talk about a few things." The brothers had thought of a number of ways you could've reacted to them confronting you. Lucifer thought that perhaps you would snap at them and distance yourself further. Mammon, Levi, and Asmo expected a few small tears followed by a cuddle session. Satan imagined a slightly more dramatic telling, like something from one of his novels, that ended him being your hero and massacring all those who dared speak ill about you. Beel thought perhaps you could talk over a bunch of comfort foods that allowed you to remain calm and feel safe. Belphie had hoped that perhaps you hadn't believed what you overheard, and the two of you could laugh at how idiotic even the idea of them not loving you was. But you, breaking down into tears, sobbing the words "I'm sorry" over and over again? None of them had expected, nor were prepared, for that. ***Apparently this is now going to be a three-part series. This part was interesting to write. I fully believe that if the brothers were in a poly relationship with the MC they would definitely bicker and argue about

who knows MC best and who had the better date whenever MC isn't around. Honestly, they probably have a score chart 😅 I hope you guys liked part 2! Keep an eye out for part 3, where MC finally opens up to the boys and we have some hurt/comfort times \uwu/ ***

[remuswriting]

an ocean away; u. keishin

Summary: Y/N knew he had terrible ideas, but he hoped coming back to Japan after 10 years to see Karasuno at nationals and confess to his high school boyfriend that he’s still in love with him wouldn’t be one of them.

Pairing: Ukai Keishin x Male! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, so much pining, some angst, open ending

Word Count: 7,261 words

Notes: So, here’s where it gets confusing.  When Keishin’s dialogue is italicized, he’s on the phone.  When Y/N’s dialogue is italicized, it’s when he’s speaking English to Katherine when also speaking Japanese to someone else.  It’ll make sense I promise.  Also, sorry for making things more complex than they need to be. Here you go @that-bi-bitch-writes​

Sequel to Next to You (Read that one first for context.  Also, ao3 version bc it’s better)

Y/N knew he had terrible ideas.  He knew his ideas almost always fell through and his friends always made sure to tell him that.  He still went through with every single one of them because there was always a chance it could go his way.  Chances were dangerous, especially with him.

His mother had told him that he had only ever had two good ideas: joining the volleyball team in high school and studying abroad in England.  Both made him grow into the person he was now at 27-years-old.  He was no longer the outside hitter who demanded everything from his players but the confident YA author who simply made his presence known by his writing.  There was more that had changed, because 10 years could be full of change, but he was still in love with his high school boyfriend, Ukai Keishin.

“Y/N, you don’t have to do this,” Katherine said, and Y/N looked over at her curiously. “You disappeared.  He probably won’t feel the same.”

“You’re right,” he breathed out with a small smile. “I have to try though, don’t I?  What if there’s a chance he still does?”

What ifs consumed Y/N.  They created his stupid ideas and sometimes his stupid ideas worked out, maybe even great if you wanted to go that far.  A ‘what if’ had created his first novel and it was a bestseller now.  So, he believed he had to go after every ‘what if’ he had.

“There’s more to it though because it’s an opportunity to see everyone again.  I also get to go to nationals, which is something I’ve always wanted to do,” Y/N said, and his smile grew. “I get to show you around Japan.  You get to see my childhood home and some of the places I hung out at.”

Katherine sighed and he knew she didn’t like his plan.  He didn’t like it either and part of him hated that he was actually going through with it.  Fly to Japan, see Keishin, and admit his love for him after not talking for 10 years besides one phone call.

Katherine tucked her hair behind her ear and Y/N had always loved how the sun shined against her blonde hair, it shimmered in a way.  It was pretty, just like she was. “You’ll have to translate the entire time because my Japanese is terrible.”

Y/N laughed as he nodded.  Of course, that would be what she thought was necessary here.  They both knew her Japanese wasn’t terrible, she was able to talk to Y/N’s parents without too much trouble, but they always dumbed down their words when speaking to her.  They’d see his parents in Japan and it would be the first time in nearly two years because of how he’s been with his novels.  They always Skyped and updated him about everything his former teammates were up to, even though he had told them not to.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” Y/N said, and Katherine rolled her eyes as Y/N purchased the plane tickets.

 *****

 They had gotten to Japan late at night.  His parents were tired, but they picked them up from the airport regardless.  His mother cried when they hugged and his father tried to see tough, but Y/N could tell he was happy too.

The majority of the car ride to his parents’ house was full of him translating to Katherine what was going on.  His parents tried to use simple Japanese for her, but they weren’t used to her.  She wasn’t upset by it, but instead she ended up falling asleep halfway there.

“We’re happy you’re home,” his mother said, and she knew it was only for two weeks.  Y/N had made sure to emphasize that so no one got the wrong idea. “You’ll have to sign our copies of your novel for us.”

Y/N smiled at them, making eye contact with his father in the rear-view mirror. “I’d love to.” He paused for a moment. “I’m happy to be home too.

 *****

 Y/N looked over at Keishin, who was seated on his bed.  His hair was growing out from the buzzcut he’d gotten at the beginning of second year.  Keishin sank into the dark blue duvet slightly, without even having to get under the covers.  He gnawed at his pencil as he worked on math homework, and Y/N could feel all the love and affection he had for Keishin at that moment.

Someone snapped, and Y/N looked over to see Katherine next to him.  She was on his bed while he sat at his desk.  His computer was open, he had been responding to emails.

Katherine chuckled slightly. “You there?”

Y/N slowly nodded, and he turned his attention back to his computer. “Let me answer my editor and then we can get some sleep.”

He knew his editor could wait, but they’d be sleeping for a while, even if it was only a nine-hour time difference.  It was a simple email to tell her he had made it to Japan, so replies would be slower than usual.  He pressed send and clicked out of his browser before he closed his laptop.  He didn’t want to look over at Katherine, because he didn’t want to see Keishin again right now.  He didn’t want to see him unless he was actually there.

“I’m going to go grab the futon,” Y/N said, and he got up without looking at her. “The bed is yours, so feel free to make yourself comfortable.”

He was nearly to the door when she spoke. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

Y/N forced himself to turn to look at her, and all he saw was Katherine.  All he saw was her and the old anime posters that lined his walls.  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” She didn’t say anything. “I’ll be right back.”

He left the room and went to the bathroom.  He stared himself down in the mirror, he looked just as exhausted as he felt.  All he needed was sleep and everything would be okay.  He repeated to himself that he was just tired.  He was just tired and everything would be okay once he slept.

 *****

 The first day they were in Japan, Katherine slept for most of it.  Y/N had never been one to get much sleep to begin with, so the time difference didn’t completely wreck him but just enough where he needed at least three cups of coffee to be able to process anything.  He sat with his parents as they ate breakfast and waved them bye when they went to work.  It felt like it did when he was younger.

There wasn’t much he could do without Katherine since she’d get upset that she wasn’t being included.  It didn’t bother him because he understood how she felt.  It made sense.  He just wished that the time change didn’t affect her like it did.  So, he decided to go for a walk.

It was cold in Miyagi, so he made sure to bundle up with a sweater, coat, and beanie.  His scarf sat in his suitcase.  It was the one Keishin gave him for Christmas during their second year.  It was orange, like Karasuno’s colors, and long enough to wrap around his neck three times and there still be excess.  Keishin’s grandmother had made it since Keishin didn’t know how to knit.

Y/N found himself walking towards Karasuno.  He guessed it was muscle memory.  Or maybe he hoped he’d catch a glimpse of Keishin hurrying off to practice.  He didn’t know, but he kept walking.

He slowed down when he saw Sakanoshita Market.  It was owned by Keishin’s mother and Y/N wondered if she still owned it.  He and Keishin had loved the store when they were in high school.  They would take turns behind the register and argue who did it better.  Keishin’s mother always patted Y/N’s head and told him he was doing a good job before yelling at Keishin to stop being a brat.

Y/N stopped and stared at the flyers on the glass doors.  He wasn’t reading them, more just focused on the designs and colors, and his eyes looked over to see Keishin leaning back on a stool behind the counter.  There was a cigarette dangling from his fingers and a magazine in his other hand.  His bleached hair was pulled back with a black headband and there was a grimace on his face.  He looked like all of the photos he had seen on Facebook, but so different at the same time.

Was Y/N going to go in there or was he going to continue walking?  As he stared at Keishin, he didn’t know if he could do it.  He didn’t know if he could go in there and just see what would happen, even if that was a big reason he was in Japan again.

He let out a deep breath and let his shoulders drop.  Everything was fine.  It was Keishin.  He didn’t need to get caught up in his head.  The door was cold under his fingers, and he pushed it open.  The bell caught Keishin’s attention, and they were staring at each other.  They were staring at each other as if it were the first time they’d ever seen each other.  It felt like that, just a little bit.

“Y/N,” Keishin breathed out, and Y/N was happy Keishin still knew his face.

“Hey, did you miss me?” Y/N asked.  His voice wavered and his anxiety was starting to eat away at him again.

Keishin put out his cigarette as he closed his magazine. “You could say that.”

“Oh, don’t get all mysterious on me now,” Y/N said, and the door slammed shut behind him. “You were never good at being mysterious to begin with.”

Keishin laughed and he was on his feet, which made Y/N stop.  Y/N watched how Keishin came from behind the counter and walked to him.  He could’ve met Keishin halfway, but he just stood there with a racing heart and clammy hands.  He felt like he was 16 and practicing alone with Keishin.

Arms wrapped around him, and warmth engulfed him.  Keishin had always been so warm.  Y/N slowly wrapped his arms around Keishin and let himself enjoy the hug.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had hugged someone like this—like he had always missed them.

“You’re really here,” Keishin mumbled into his hair, and Y/N laughed.

“Yeah, I am.” Keishin squeezed a little tighter. “I’m here.”

Keishin slowly let go of him and Y/N wanted to reach out again.  He wanted to keep the hug going.  Maybe he’d be able to say he loved him if they weren’t looking at each other.

“You should’ve called.  I would’ve closed the shop,” Keishin said, and he led Y/N to sit down at the table they used to do homework at every day.

Y/N shook his head. “I wouldn’t want you to do that just for me.”

“I would though.” Keishin sat down across from him. “I doubt I’d get shit for it.  You know my mom loves you.”

He did know that.  He had spent so much time with the Ukais he thought they’d be sick of him.  Instead they embraced him more than they did Keishin.  He felt a little bad about it, but not much.

“Still, I don’t want you going out of business for me,” Y/N said, and Keishin shrugged as he leaned back in his chair.

“Wouldn’t bother me.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say.  He hadn’t thought this far in advance.  He had only thought about needing to see Keishin.  It hadn’t been his original plan, but that was okay.

“So, what brings you here, if you don’t mind me asking,” Keishin said, and his brown eyes were studying Y/N.

“I was just walking, but I saw this place and thought that it’d be nice to see you before everyone meets up.” The corner of Y/N’s mouth quirked up. “I also know you want me all to yourself.”

Keishin laughed a little. “You’re not wrong.  I’d like to talk to you alone since it’s been so long.”

Y/N put an elbow on the table and his cheek on his hand. “Alright then, tell me what coaching’s been like.”

Keishin sighed, but there was a fond smile on his face. “A pain in the ass, but they’re good kids.  I think they’d like you as their coach more than me.”

Y/N rolled his eyes. “Doubtful.  I wouldn’t want an author who hasn’t played in years being my coach.”

“Well, we can fix that.  Just come by the gym tomorrow and you can practice with us.”

“I can’t,” Y/N sighed gently.  Keishin’s shoulders dropped. “I have a meeting with a bookstore since I’ve set up a book signing and reading.”

Ukai nodded and he looked at Y/N with hopeful eyes. “Another time maybe?”

Y/N nodded with a smile. “Of course.  I want to see what your practices are like.” He laughed a little. “Remember when we convinced Tachi to try to jump over the net and coach was pissed?”

“You’re leaving out the part where Tachi got caught up in the net and we had to cut him out,” Keishin said, but he was laughing too.  His smile made Y/N’s breath hitch. “The only reason none of us were killed was because you were the one who told coach.”

“I can’t help that I was the favorite,” Y/N teased, and Keishin shrugged.

“You were everyone’s favorite, so no one ever cared.” Keishin paused. “Well, except for Fujii-san, but he’s an asshole.”

Y/N laughed a little. “Are you going to say that when we all go out for drinks?”

Keishin smiled. “If you get me drunk enough.”

It was quiet between them, but it was natural.  It was like it used to be when they were in high school.  Comfortable silence as they sat with each other, only ever needing each other’s company.  Did Keishin also feel it?  Maybe this was the perfect time to say it.  To say he still loved him.

“Keishin, I—”

Keishin’s cell phone started going off and the words died in Y/N’s throat.  Keishin hastily pulled out his phone and his eyes widened. “Shit, sorry, I gotta take this.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Just stay right there, it’ll be real quick,” Keishin said, and he answered. “Hey, Specs, I’m kind of in the middle of something. . . Oh, is he okay?”

Y/N slowly started getting up.  “I'm just going to go.”

Keishin looked at him with wide eyes.  He put his hand on the phone. “No, please, just give me a second.” He took his hand off. “I’ll call you back, text me if it’s important.”

Keishin flipped his phone shut and Y/N was already at the door.  This wasn’t the time to confess.  Keishin was busy right now.  There’d be a next time.

“Hey, wait, you were saying something,” Keishin said, and Y/N sadly smiled.

“I was just saying that I’ve missed you.” Y/N looked down at his shoes. “I know, it’s lame.”

“It’s not,” Keishin said, and his voice was harsh.  Y/N looked up to see a panicked expression on Keishin’s face that melted once they made eye contact. “It’s not lame.  I’ve missed you too.”

Maybe this was the time to confess.  Y/N pressed a hand to the door, ready to run if needed, and he was going to say it.  Keishin’s phone went off again and Keishin groaned as he looked at it in his hand.

“I’ll see you later,” Y/N said, and Keishin nodded.

“Yeah, see you later.” Keishin opened his phone and put it to his ear. “What?”

Y/N left, listened to the door shut behind him, and let out a deep breath.  He’d confess next time.  There would be a next time.

 *****

 Katherine wanted to have the full experience of what Japan was like for Y/N.  She wanted to know what Miyagi was like – what his childhood was like.  He tried to take her to Tokyo instead, but she refused.

“Nationals is in Tokyo, so we’ll just see things closer to then,” Katherine said, and she pulled her hair up into a ponytail.  They were both in the bathroom.  Katherine fixing her hair as Y/N brushed his teeth.  It was normal for them to do this in the morning since they only had one bathroom back home.

“Miyagi doesn’t have a lot of excitement,” Y/N said with his mouth full of toothpaste.  He spit his toothpaste into the sink and rinsed his toothbrush off. “Or at least my childhood version of Miyagi doesn’t.”

“I don’t care,” Katherine said, and she smoothed down the sides of her hair. “You’ve seen where I’ve lived before, so it’s only fair that I get to see everywhere for you.”

Y/N laughed a little. “Okay, well don’t complain when it consists mainly of walking.”

“I wouldn’t complain about that!”

Katherine complained about it, especially when she’s forced to walk up a steep hill.  She only continued because Y/N kept telling her it would be worth it.  The way she gasped when they made it to the top made it hard for her to say she didn’t like it.  They both knew she did.

They sat down on a bench near the railing.  The cold chill nipped at their noses and Katherine pressed her earmuffs into her ears even more.

“I found this place in high school with Keishin.” Y/N smiled at the view.  He remembered racing up the hill with Keishin as they laughed together.  Y/N always won, but that had always been a given. “We brought the team up here once and just hung out.  It was nice.”

“You really miss them, don’t you?” Katherine asked, and he slowly nodded.  It felt wrong to say it aloud. “Did you keep in contact with any of them?”

“Not really.  I quit the beginning of my third year due to a sports injury.” Y/N looked down at his knee.  He wished he had never gotten hurt, because it ruined the future he had planned for himself.  It was a future where Keishin would still be in it. “I cut off contact because of it, but a couple of them have been emailing me about the team this year.  Apparently, they’re insane.”

Katherine nodded as she stretched her legs and arms out. “Well, I still know nothing about volleyball, but I do know that meeting is in about two hours.  Should we get going?”

Y/N looked down at his watch and she was right.  Two hours would be enough time since she walked slower than he did.  He started to get up and stretched his arms.

“I saw Keishin yesterday,” he said, and Katherine’s eyes grew wide.

“And you’re just now telling me this?” She asked, and he nodded.

“I thought I would before we go out for drinks tonight.”

Katherine froze and her words came out slow. “We’re going out for drinks?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, I already told you this.”

“I thought you were joking.” He couldn’t exactly read the expression on her face. “You know I can’t drink.”

Y/N did know that, but he had forgotten about it when he had got the invite.  He was so caught up in thinking about Japan that he forgot about her slightly.  Her medication didn’t allow her to drink, which had been hard on her since she had to stop going out to bars after going bar hopping every night for years.  They had even met at a bar, but they never went out now.  It wasn’t fair to ask her to go with him or for him to go without her, and he knew that.

“I’m sorry, I forgot, I’ll just text them saying I can’t make it.” Katherine frowned a little and Y/N smiled at her. “Don’t look like that.  It’s no big deal.  You know I don’t even like to drink to begin with.”

“But you miss them,” Katherine said, and Y/N shrugged.

“Yeah, but I’ll miss you more if you’re not with me.” He paused for a second and looked her over. “I’m not leaving you out.  Remember, that’s one of our roommate rules.  Rule three: No leaving the other out.”

Katherine looked down at her lap as she laughed a little. “You’re the only one who takes those rules seriously.”

Y/N grinned. “Which means I’m the best roommate.”

Katherine rolled her eyes as she got up and let out a huge sigh. “Alright, best roommate, let's go back.”

They walked to the train station in silence and Katherine gripped onto Y/N’s arm for dear life as they walked downhill.

 *****

 Y/N was writing at his desk while Katherine was on her phone, probably on Twitter.  She kept his social media presence alive, so he never made comments about her being on her phone all of the time.  She had even managed to get him out of doing an unnecessary photoshoot for promotional photos for the book signing.  Katherine was free to do whatever she wanted as long as she wasn't trying to write his novel.

His phone vibrated against the desk and both of them looked at it.  He was close to hitting a word count goal he set for himself to reach every day, but he could always come back to that.  As he moved over to see who it was, his heart stopped.  It was Keishin.

It picked up the phone and hit accept.  He started speaking before it even touched his ear. “Hello.”

“Y/N,” Keishin slurred.  He dragged out the last part of Y/N’s name. “Where are you?”

“Are you drunk?” Y/N asked, and Keishin whined a little on the other line.

“No answering questions with questions.” Y/N could practically hear Keishin pouting.  It was sweet. “You said you’d be here.”

“I texted Koichi-san earlier about it and he said he’d tell everyone,” Y/N said. “Are you drunk?”

“No.” Keishin hiccupped softly. “Maybe a little.  Why’d you tell that asshole instead of me?”

Y/N leaned back in his chair. “Habit, I guess.  I always told him things like that in high school.  Does it bother you?”

“I’m supposed to be the one you tell things to,” Keishin said, and his words were slurring together a little more. “You used to tell me things.”

Y/N looked over at Katherine, who was staring at him.  She couldn’t understand anything he was saying, and he couldn’t put Keishin on speakerphone because of it.  It would all just sound like Japanese to her, but there wouldn’t be any meaning behind the words.  Maybe he needed to be more intense than Duolingo was with her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.  Katherine doesn’t drink and it’s not fair of me to leave her alone,” Y/N said, and Katherine perked up at the sound of her name.

“It’s not fair for you to leave me alone,” Keishin said, and he sniffled a little. “I thought we were gonna see each other again.”

Y/N tried to shush him in a loving way. “We are.  Nationals is in a couple of days, and I plan to be there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, so you get to see me then.  I’ll make sure of it.”

“Okay.” Keishin sniffled a little more and Y/N didn’t know a drunk Keishin would be like this. “Will you talk to me after Nationals?”

Y/N’s heart stopped.  He tried to will himself to breathe and make it start again, but the sadness in Keishin’s voice made that hard. “Yes, I will.”

“Good, cause I missed talking to you,” Keishin dragged the words out. “I was sad you left so soon yesterday.”

“I was too,” Y/N said, and hopefully Keishin wouldn’t remember any of this.  Hopefully. “You were busy though.”

“Never too busy for you.”

Maybe Keishin was still in love with him.  Or at least still felt something for him.  Maybe it wasn’t as one-sided as Y/N had thought it was.

“I have to go, okay?  I’ll talk to you in the morning.” Y/N heard Keishin whine. “Go drink some water.”

Keishin huffed. “Fine.”

It was quiet for a moment, neither of them making a move to hang up the phone.  Y/N let out a deep breath. “I’m going to go now.”

“No!” Keishin said, and Y/N sighed.

“Good night, Keishin.”

Y/N hung up the phone and Katherine was sitting up now. “What was that?  You look all lovesick and sad.”

“That was Keishin drunk calling me.” Y/N chuckled a little. “He was saying he missed me and was sad I left yesterday.”

“Maybe this trip was worth it,” Katherine said, and Y/N rolled his eyes, but he agreed.  It wasn’t that he had thought Keishin wouldn’t feel the same, but he didn’t let his hopes get too high. “What’s going to happen if he does feel the same?”

Y/N tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

Katherine looked down at her hands in her lap. “You’ll either move here or he’ll move to London, but I don’t think he’ll do that.” Her voice got really quiet. “What’ll happen to me?”

Y/N got up and walked over to her before wrapping his arms around her. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.  Let’s just not think about it right now, okay?”

Katherine started crying, and he rubbed soothing circles on her back.  He hadn’t thought about all of that.  Where he would live.  If he’d need to get a new editor.  If Katherine was willing to move with him.  What he’d do if she wasn’t.  He had been so caught up in his own feelings he hadn’t thought about anyone else’s.

 *****

 To: Y/N

From: Keishin

>> I saw I called you last night.  Sorry if I said anything embarrassing.

 To: Keishin

From: Y/N

>> No worries.  You just asked me where I was.

 To: Y/N

From: Keishin

>> Oh yeah.  Where were you?

 To: Keishin

From: Y/N

>> At home with Katherine.

>> She doesn’t drink and I didn’t want to leave her alone.

 To: Y/N

From: Keishin

>> Oh okay

>> You’re a good friend.

 Y/N stared at the text as he sat on the bathroom floor.  He had tear stained cheeks and his head hit the bathroom door again.  He wasn’t a good friend not in the slightest and he had been trying to figure everything out.  He hadn’t slept yet and it was 6am.  What was he supposed to do?  He didn’t know what to do.

He turned off his phone and tossed it to the ground before he put his face in his hands.  He didn’t want to see Katherine like that again.  He needed to figure all of this out.

 *****

 “I don’t think I’m going to tell him how I feel,” Y/N said, and he was seated across from Katherine at the dining room table.  He had just made basic ramen since there wasn’t much to work with.  They’d go buy groceries later for his parents. “I don’t think it’s the right time.”

“Is this because of what I said last night?” Katherine asked.  He didn’t make a move to confirm nor deny it. “Don’t worry about me.  I was just emotional last night since I miss London.  You deserve to be happy, and he makes you happy.  You’ve been smiling a lot since we got here, and I love this side of you.”

“But I don’t know what’s going to happen if he does feel the same.” Y/N put his chopsticks down. “I never thought that far.  I just took one piece of information and created a huge scheme that neither of us ever really knew was going to actually work.”

“Well, we don’t know what’s going to happen, so let’s not start spiraling just yet.” Katherine stared at him and sighed. “I’ll admit I’m scared, but I know that things will work out.  No matter what, you have me.”

Y/N looked down at his ramen and his voice was small. “What if I don’t deserve you?”

“Well, you have me anyways.  Now eat or else it’s going to get cold,” Katherine said, and the conversation was over.  Y/N looked up at her and she was eating some of her ramen and let out a content sigh. “I’ve always loved when you cook.”

Y/N laughed a little. “I literally just follow the instructions and add vegetables.”

Katherine narrowed her eyes at him slightly before her face brightened up with a smile. “Well, it’s always the best ramen.”

Y/N smiled too and tried to let the anxiety in his chest go away.  Everything would be okay.  He’d always have Katherine, no matter what happened while they were here.

 *****

 Nationals was bigger than Y/N thought it would be.  He knew it was huge and a big deal, but at the same time, he only had the concept from when he was in high school in his head.  The one where it seemed smaller because of the bright lights on the volleyball court.  He always imagined he’d end up being blinded by them.

“There is so much Japanese going on here,” Katherine said, and Y/N laughed.

“Well, we are in Japan.”

She punched his arm. “You know what I meant, asshole.”

“Hopefully, I can keep up with translating for you.”

Katherine pointed over to someone and Y/N looked to see Keishin. “That’s him, right?  Keishin.”

“You do know it’s extremely rude to point,” Y/N said, and he pushed her hand down. “But yeah, that’s him.”

“He’s hotter than in the pictures.”

“Hey!  Be respectful!”

Everyone around them looked over and Y/N made eye contact with Keishin, who stopped talking to a man with glasses and walked over to them. “Y/N!  You made it!” He looked at Katherine and pointed at her. “Katherine, right?”

“Hello, I’m Katherine,” she said in shaky Japanese.

“She doesn’t really know Japanese, so I’ll be translating for her,” Y/N said, and Keishin nodded. Y/N looked at Katherine, who looked terrified. “You answered correctly, don’t worry.”

Katherine nodded and Y/N looked back at Ukai, whose gaze was already on him. “So, what do you think of this arena?”

“It’s fucking huge,” Y/N said as he smiled. “I would’ve been losing it if we had gotten to play here back in high school.”

Ukai chuckled. “That’s something I didn’t think I needed to see.”

“Well, too bad we’re no longer in high school.”

“You’re right.”

Y/N turned to Katherine. “We’re just talking about this place.” He looked back at Keishin. “What do you think about it?”

“It’s huge and I think Karasuno deserves to be here,” Keishin said, and Y/N put his hands over his heart.

“Awe, when did you become soft, Keishin?” Y/N asked, and Keishin rolled his eyes.

“You’ll see what I mean when you see them play.” Y/N dropped his hands to his sides.  Keishin rubbed the back of his neck. “Also, I kinda need to talk to you later.”

Y/N blinked a couple of times. “What about?”

“You have to wait.” He stopped and looked around.  Y/N had no clue what he was looking for. “I need to talk to you alone.”

“When will this be?  I promised Katherine I’d show her around Tokyo,” Y/N said, and Katherine looked over at him. “I’ll explain later, sorry.”

Katherine nodded and Keishin looked at them confused. “When are you guys going to go sightseeing?”

“After Karasuno’s first game,” Y/N said, and he crossed his arms. “Do you have time to meet up?”

“7.  How about we meet up at 7 and I’ll text you the address to the place Karasuno is staying,” Keishin said, and he fished his phone out of his pocket before typing away at it.  He clicked a final button before he put it back in his pocket.  Y/N’s phone dinged. “That’s me.  Just meet me out front at 7.”

Y/N squinted at him slightly as he turned his head slightly. “Are you not going to give me any more context?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Alright.” Y/N pointed behind Keishin. “I think your team is waiting for you.”

Keishin turned his head to see Karasuno waiting on him and jumped slightly. “Okay, I’ll see you later.  Text me if anything comes up or you need help finding the place.”

Y/N nodded. “Alright.  Go on before you make your team late to get to the court.”

Keishin nodded and he turned to leave but looked back at Y/N. “Thank you for coming.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Y/N chuckled, and Keishin nodded.  Y/N shooed him away, and it was just Katherine and him left there. “So, Keishin wants me to meet up with him later to talk at 7.”

Katherine’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit, what if he confesses first?”

“That’s a possibility, one that I would like so I wouldn’t end up making a fool out of myself if he didn’t feel the same.” Y/N let out a deep breath. “Okay, so we’re going to go watch a volleyball game and then sightsee and then I’m going to talk with my high school boyfriend.  Sound good?”

Katherine laughed a little. “Sounds great.”

 *****

 Karasuno was good.  They were absolutely incredible.  Their videos put them to shame.  Keishin looked good down on the court as he watched the game intently and came up with new plays.  He belonged there.  He even looked happy while doing it.

“That was wild!” Katherine said, and she had a huge grin. “Now I want to watch all of the games, even if Karasuno isn’t in them!  Are all games like that?”

“Not usually, but we are at Nationals,” Y/N said, and he smiled at her.  He felt her excitement.  He wanted to go play a game of volleyball right now and see if he still had it.  He doubted he had any of his talent left, but he wanted to try. “We can go sightseeing tomorrow if you want to watch more games.”

Katherine turned to him, and she looked like a little kid who found something interesting. “What if we wait until after Nationals?  We’re here for another week anyways.”

He grinned at her.  She liked the thing he adored growing up.  Volleyball had been his identity for so long that giving it up felt like he had torn himself apart in order to do so. “Alright, I’m good with that.  We may leave before a game ends though so we can eat.  I still have to meet up with Keishin later.”

Katherine nodded, but she wasn’t listening.  They were in the vendors’ area now and she was amazed with everything she saw.  She pointed at volleyball phone charms. “Let’s get those.  We can match!”

Y/N pulled his wallet out and picked two of the phone charms before showing the vendor and paying for them.  When he handed it to Katherine, she immediately went to put it on.  She was amazed with it and she grabbed his phone to put his on.

He had wondered what it would be like if he ever tried to go back to volleyball.  He had always thought Katherine wouldn’t be interested in it.  He had always thought she’d want him to be an author forever.  This had changed that.

“What position were you again?” Katherine asked as she handed him back his phone.

“Outside hitter, just like the guy with the bun on Karasuno’s team,” Y/N said, and she nodded.

“Did you score a lot of points?”

Y/N remembered how the ball would fly into his hand before hitting the other side of the court every game.  His palm would tingle and he’d always look over to the setter, whether it was Koichi or Keishin, and grin.  No matter who it was, they had scored that point together.  The team had scored that point together.

“I did, but I never saw it like that.  I felt like every point was scored by all of us,” Y/N said, and Katherine nodded.

She played with the phone charm. “I wished I could’ve seen you play.”

Y/N nodded as he looked down at her. “Yeah, me too.”

 *****

 “Hey there, you come here often?” Y/N asked himself and he shook his head. “No, that’s fucking lame and he doesn’t come there often.”

Y/N was on his way to the address Keishin had sent him and was trying to figure out what to say.  This wasn’t like when he had visited Keishin at the market, because this wasn’t a familiar place.  This was some place Karasuno was staying that Y/N had never even seen before.  He was worried he was going to completely miss it if he weren’t careful.

“Just act natural.  It’s Keishin.  It’s not like he’s going to get upset at you for being embarrassing or something.” He stopped on the sidewalk. “Fuck, what if I embarrass myself?” He shook his head and started walking again. “It’s okay.  He loved me when we were 16 and cringey, so it’s all okay.”

The rest of the way he tried to figure out how to come off as charming without trying too hard.  He came up with nothing and gave up on trying to figure something out.  He’d just wing it like he typically did.  He used to say he winged it all the time because he was a wing spiker.  He couldn’t say that anymore though.

“Y/N!” A voice called out, and Y/N looked straight ahead to see Keishin waving at him from down the block. “It’s over here!”

Y/N’s steps sped up, but he didn’t let himself run.  He may be desperate, but he wasn’t going to show it.  He slowed down when he was closer to Keishin, who was bundled up just as much as Y/N was.  It was too cold to talk outside, so Y/N hoped Keishin had a plan.

“Hey,” Y/N said, and it was cool and charming as he was going to get with a greeting.

Keishin smiled at him. “Hey.”

“So, you needed to talk to me?”

Keishin jumped slightly and nodded. “Yeah, come inside with me.  We can talk there.”

Y/N followed him in and Karasuno boys were everywhere.  They looked at him and Keishin, and Y/N tried to think what he would’ve thought if he saw Coach Ukai with someone else, especially with someone he didn’t know.

“Hey, go get ready for dinner,” Keishin said, and the boys nodded and hurried off.  He turned to Y/N. “Sorry, they can be nosey at times and I’d rather them not hear me talk to you.”

Y/N gasped as he put his hand on his heart. “Are you ashamed to be seen with me?”

Keishin’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “No, not at all.  They’re all just annoying brats.

Y/N placed a hand on Keishin’s arm. “Keishin, I’m just teasing.”

“Oh.  Okay,” Keishin said, and he was obviously nervous.  It reminded Y/N of how Keishin acted when they were in high school, especially before they started dating.  He had always been so scared he’d say the wrong thing.

They walked up the stairs and Keishin led Y/N into an empty room.  Y/N figured this was where Keishin and the advisor were staying while they were here.  Two futons were already set up and they were on opposite sides of the room.  Keishin followed where Y/N was looking. “Oh, Specs snores and drools in his sleep.  I don’t want to be around that.”

“It never bothered you when I snored,” Y/N said, and Keishin looked down at the ground.  His face started to turn red.

“Well that’s you.  You’re different.”

Y/N tried to ignore the ache in his chest.  He wanted to know what this was about.  He wanted to know if Keishin felt the same or if he was going to reject him.  It wasn’t like Y/N had been trying to hide how he felt, he just hadn’t outright said anything.

“So, why have me come to some random place at dinner time?” Y/N asked, and Keishin looked back at him.  His brown eyes were intense.  It reminded Y/N of the first time they told each other they loved each other.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, and I really should’ve done this before you came back to Japan, but I was scared.  So, when you called, it was perfect timing.” Keishin wasn’t looking at him anymore, instead he paced back and forth. “You left Japan 10 years ago and 10 years is a long time, I know that, but I thought about you after all of this time, which you could find weird.  It’s just that no one else has ever made me feel the way you make me feel, even though we were just in high school when we dated.”

“I love you,” Y/N said, and he cut Keishin off.  He didn’t need to hear anymore rambling when he got the point. “I came back for Nationals, but I also came back to tell you that I’m still in love with you.”

“Really?” Keishin asked, wide eyes and mouth slightly agape. “You mean that?  You love me?”

Y/N laughed a little and nodded. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Keishin said, and he took a couple steps towards Y/N, cupping his face. “You love me.”

Y/N pulled him down, knowing he’d take too long, and they kissed for the first time since Y/N left Japan.  The kiss in the airport bathroom had been something Y/N had held onto, even if it had been disgusting.  They had been broken up, but Keishin wanted him to know he still loved him.  Y/N let him know he still loved him too.

They pulled away and Y/N let out a small laugh at Keishin’s grin.  Keishin put their foreheads together. “I missed that.  I missed you.”

Y/N placed a hand over Keishin’s, his fingers brushing over his own cheek. “This is better than a bathroom.” Keishin rolled his eyes, but the grin didn’t leave his face. “I missed you too.  I really did.”

“You’ll come to Nationals tomorrow and watch Karasuno, right?” Keishin asked, and Y/N had an amused smile on his face.

“I don’t think Katherine would forgive me if we didn’t go to Nationals tomorrow.” He pulled away slightly before resting his cheek on Keishin’s shoulder.  Keishin wrapped his arms around him. “She’s fallen in love with volleyball.”

“Do you still love volleyball?” Keishin asked.  Y/N was silent for a minute, because he didn’t know how to answer that question. 

No one had asked him that in so long, not since he got published and volleyball was no longer what he was known for.  His mother had been so happy when he had quit the team in high school, because she had started to see a different future for him.  Y/N still wondered what would’ve happened if he kept at volleyball.  Would he and Keishin still be together?  Would he have ever met Katherine?  Would he have been as successful as he is now?

Y/N let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Yeah.  I love it just as much as I love you.”

Keishin’s voice was gentle when he spoke. “Would you play again?”

“I don’t know.  Are you going to be by my side if I do?”

It felt like a ridiculous question, because why would Keishin do that?  He was a coach now.  He had a life with volleyball.  He had a team to stand with.  Why would he stand with someone who it wasn’t even certain if he could play volleyball?

“Yes,” Keishin said, and gently squeezed Y/N. “I’ll always be by your side.”

[obeythebutler]

◍ ok so- I don't have friends who also play Obey me! like me so I can't tell them anything related to it without them being awkward and just making an eye contact with me.

When i wrote this short fic, I was so damn proud but have no one to show the fic so yeah.. I came here cause I thought maybe you'll like it- even if it's angst- you're just one of the sweetest bb I know who have an Obey me content so I said to myself 'why not?'

i decided to post this fic on my acc right after I asked you if you want to read it but I'm too nervous to show it to you- and when you said you wanna read it I was like- damn.

so I put some extra parts there just for you. hope ya will like it- please don't hate me cause I was feeling a little angstyyy this week

read this why listening to this song

Toxic by BoywithUke

it fits a little-

◍◍◍◍◍◍◍◍◍◍

As The avatar of greed walk his way back to HoL, Feeling empty cause not one but TWO of the witches he had a pact with decided to bother him once again.

both throwing insults left and right and demanding for him to give their money back but the avatar of greed just shakes his head and said he doesn't have any money right now for he is dealing with the others that he also have a dept with.

but both the witches has a very short temper. they both threatened him, saying "We have a pact! we OWN you. we can give you just a single command and you'll do anything as we please.. even if it's hurting one of your precious brothers"

and that's how they got him. he might not show it but he have a soft spot for his brothers even to Lucifer. that's why he doesn't want any of them to get hurt even for the fact that he knew they can defend themselves.

Right now, he want nothing more than just to get home and lock his self inside his room where no one can see him cry.

he was about to make a turn when Mammon's eyes catches something.

He saw a almost ruined little Sheep plushie near the garbage dump all alone... Just like him... All alone and treated like a garbage by everyone.

He picked the plushie and take good care of it... he cleaned it and stitches it, not caring that his fingers got pricked by the needle too many times. he just want the plushie to appear like good as new.

He even gave it a name cause he think the name he thought was cute, Fitting for a cute little friend he now had.

Mammon cherished the plushie like it was his treasure... always venting on it whenever something happens... as Time passed by, his mind started to be filled with wonders... to the point that he can see a human smiling Infront of him whenever he hold the plushie.

A smile made it's way on his lips as he stare at the human and he lift his hand to reach for them but they soon disappeared in a blink of an eye making him turn his attention back to the sheep plushie he's holding.

tears falling down his cheeks as he remember what happened earlier.

Lucifer scolding and tying him upsidedown the ceiling for selling one of his precious vinyl records..

If only Lucifer knew what really is happening, then Mammon won't probably do it but knowing Mammon, Lucifer asked him why he sold his vinyl record and Mammon doesn't want him to worry so he made up a really stupid excuse saying he lost another gamble and need the money so he can do it again.

Leviathan, Satan and Asmodeus accusing him for the disappearance of their favorite Manga, Novel book and accessory.

If only they used their eyes for searching and not their mouths.

Belphegor yelling very hurtful insults at him for eating one of Beel's food

Beel... Beelzebub is the only brother who haven't said anything mean to him but Mammon can feel that he is also mad at him

if only they knew that Mammon haven't eaten anything yet since morning cause he was busy making money to pay for those witches..

But he doesn't want anyone to be worried about him... he hate seeing their concern faces. not that he seen them with it yet but everyone knows including mammon himself that he can't express any feelings even if he wants to.

he just can't...

Mammon let out a sigh before he bring the sheep plushie close to his chest and hugged it very tightly as he say it's name.

"MC... Oh how I wish you were real and right here comforting me..."

◍◍◍◍◍◍◍◍◍◍

The last part hurt. How dare you.

This was so good!! Mammon being manipulated by the witches into paying, and imagining MC by his side through the plushie, it's all so angsty but yet hurts so good!!!!!

[fallensimeon]

Take Me For A Ride (NSFW 18+)

A spicy F!MC x Mammon smut mixed with a little angst and fluff, my first time trying out writing! Don’t judge too harshly, I tried my best y’know!

Topic warnings: F!MC, angst, smut, fluff, intercourse, car sex, fellatio, rough play (nearly BDSM-ish), biting, blood, curse words, yelling, dirty talking. Read at your own risk! 

Words: 5,419

Y/N has enough of the brothers attacking Mammon, and comforts him when he needs her the most. One thing leads to another, and, well... let’s just say they go for the ride of a lifetime.

18+! MINORS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!

If you like my work, please feel free to like, comment, follow, share, or REBLOG. Thank you for taking the time to read my first piece!

It was a gloomy day down in the Devildom, just one of those days where tensions were high in the House of Lamentation. You were in your room, having just completed your homework so you began studying for a test coming up in the next few days. You had a good feeling you were going to ace it, so you began to organize your books and papers and stash them away in your bag.

You were tired. You had felt overworked as of late, always having work to do, or having one of the brothers drag you into one of their troubles as usual. But today? Nobody had reached out. Everyone had seemed so distant from one another. That wasn’t normal, it was always loud in the house no matter where you went. The fact that it was so quiet for once was shocking.

You finished packing up your school supplies and leaned your backpack against your desk in your room. You just wanted to relax, so you decided to ease your chest and arms comfortably onto your desk and scroll through Devilgram for a while. Looking through the brothers’ profiles always put a smile on your face, because they sometimes posted the most hilarious pictures. However, you found yourself on Mammon’s profile for the longest. 

He was a model, of course he was stunning. Perfectly-tanned skin, luscious snow white locks gracing his head, the most beautiful blue eyes that almost glowed gold. You could never tell him how you really felt, he would just push you away. Plus, there was probably some model out there who was after him already anyways. Why would Mammon want to be with some weak human?

You jumped slightly as a text notification popped up on your screen.

“Dinner is ready, please make your way to the dining hall. You wouldn’t want Beel to get to your plate first,” Lucifer sent. You chuckled and began to make your way down to have dinner. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be as awkward as it was earlier that day.

You make it down to the dining hall, not a single of the brothers making eye contact with you. You froze in your tracks. You can’t lie, that hurt a little bit, you figured at least one of them might greet you.

♡

“Good to see you, Y/N. Come, take a seat. I know you have been working hard up there, you need to eat well,” Lucifer stated, a slight smile on his face. He was glad that at least one of you was focused on your studies that day.

You smiled, finally someone broke the awkward silence. “Thank you Lucifer.”

You made your way around the long table to find an open seat. Your heart fluttered as you walked your way past Mammon, smelling the arousing scent of his cologne waft past your face. You smiled and let out a low but happy sigh, and he looked up for just a second having heard you, a light blush on his face. “Y’know I don’t bite, you can come sit next to me human,” Mammon said lightly, making eye contact with you for the first time that day.

You felt a shudder run down your spine. His voice is so alluring, you could listen to it all day every day. A blush forms on your cheeks as you take a seat next to him.

Everyone around you is surprisingly in their own conversations with one another, which is pretty odd after earlier. Although, you were happy to hear the voices of all of your favorite people around the room. You couldn’t dare to complain, it was nice seeing everyone let go of the awkward tension that had previously filled the House of Lamentation. This, however, was short-lived.

You were almost done with your dinner, only a few forkfuls left, when you heard an argument start. “Oh great, here we go again,” you thought to yourself as you looked up to see Lucifer standing up behind Mammon. You didn’t have a good feeling about this.

“You worthless scumbag, what did you do with my new Ruri-chan figure?!” Levi yelled, close enough to Mammon’s face to spit on him whilst speaking.

“My new perfume went missing too, I bet it had something to do with that idiot,” Asmo shouted across the table at him, a sour glare on his face.

“Come to think of it, my new mystery novel went missing last night, I was going to read it but I couldn’t find it,” Satan added to the fire.

The twins began to spew on about how much of a moron Mammon was, him having done nothing to either of them. Lucifer began to holler at Mammon about every little thing he finds wrong when you realize that was the last straw. You weren’t going to sit there and let everyone torment the demon that meant most to you. You looked over at Mammon, trembling in his seat, trying to hold back tears as his brothers kept pushing him further and further over the edge. He looked like he could break at any second. You know for a fact he didn’t take anyone’s things, he was with you all day yesterday. It couldn’t have been him.

“KNOCK IT OFF, ALL OF YOU! BACK OFF! I THINK HE’S HAD ENOUGH ALREADY!” you shouted at the top of your lungs. The boys all froze in shock and fear, never expecting that out of you. Tears began to stream down your face. You never thought you would see the day that you would have to break up an argument, especially when the only people Mammon trusted were his brothers. Seeing them all treat him like shit made you angry  and upset.

“Y/N...” Lucifer sighed and began to speak, but you weren’t going to give him the chance to continue.

“C’mon Mammon, you don’t deserve this, let’s get out of here,” you gently took hold of Mammon’s hand and dragged him away from the table towards his bedroom. The dining hall fell completely silent once again.

♡

You make it all the way to Mammon’s bedroom door when he stops you in your tracks, pulling your arm back towards him lightly. You turn around to see his cheeks burning red, the tears that formed earlier finally starting to come down his face. He looked somewhat relieved, somewhat embarrassed at the same time. He just barely lifted his head to look you in the eyes.

“You didn’t have to go and do that for me human, ya know I can’t handle m’self, right? I-I just needed to think of what t’say...” he said softly, not enough confidence in his voice for you to believe it for a second.

He was shaking, more so than when he usually gets yelled at. You gently let go of his hand and lifted your hand to cup his right cheek, brushing away his tears with your thumb. He felt so warm.

“Mammoney, I wasn’t just going to sit there and let them stomp all over you like that. They have NO evidence to prove that you took anything from them, but they kept going anyway. I’m so sick of their bullshit, watch them find all of their things that they misplaced themselves. I hope they hate themselves for treating you like that.” You loosened your hand from his cheek and tucked your body against his, arms wrapped around his warm shoulders, bringing him in for a cozy embrace.

This broke him. He leaned into your embrace, the tears streaming down his face as he sobbed into the crook of your neck. The two of you stood in a hug for at least 2 minutes straight, neither of you daring to break away. It just felt so nice, you never wanted to let go.

“Th-thank you Y/N, I’m glad you trust me enough t’know I wouldn’t steal their boring stuff. Why would I need Asmo’s perfume, let alone Satan’s book? Y’know, I-I wonder if they think before they point f-fingers like that. C’mon human, let’s get inside, I just w-wanna relax.” Mammon explains with the slightest blushy grin on his face. He opens the door to let you in first, and closes it behind him.

You had never been in Mammon’s room before, he’s never let you in before now. Your eyes scanned around the room, in awe of how cozy it was. His plush leather sofa and a mahogany wood pool table beside it, bottles of alcohol and a few grimm strewn across it. He has a projector rather than a television, two speakers beside the coffee table below it. He has an open concept closet, adorned with studio lights, and his bed pressed flush on the other side of the wall. His room has two floors, the only things up there being his entryway door... and a car? How did he get this in here? What kind of car was it? How interesting. Rather than walking down the stairs as Mammon was expecting you to do, you made your way towards his car and leaned against the hood.

“Is this your car? It’s so amazing! I can’t imagine how much money you must have put into this beauty,” you exclaimed, being somewhat an admirer of cars, having been raised by your father who’s life revolves around them. You grazed your hand over the headlights and the grill along the front, a glint in your eyes from the spotlights shining down on you and the car.

Mammon was standing next to the door, choked up to say the very least. He was blushing furiously, gripping into his lush white hair with his hand, head tilted down and giggling. “Y’mean my Demonia? It’s nothing really, Lucifer helped me get it a while back once I got my license. Pretty cool right? Of course the Great Mammon is cool!” he chuckled, barely able to keep eye contact with you. The truth was, the car meant a lot to him and it did cost a lot, but he couldn’t focus on that right now. He was too busy staring you down, lights glistening against your soft skin, looking oh-so-hot leaned up against his car like that. Little did you know you were his treasure, he admired you every second he got, whether you realized it or not. He began to walk over to you, leaning next to you on the hood, resting his hand softly against yours, interlocking fingers with you.

Needless to say, you were surprised. You jumped slightly at his touch, hesitant to move. You returned the favor regardless, locking your fingers between his, the warmth of his body flushing through your veins, instantly calming you. He means everything to you, and now this? How can you not tell him how you feel now? This was the best opportunity you could get your hands on. You let go of his hand and made your way off of the hood of the car, locked his bedroom door, dimmed his lights slightly, and made your way back over to him. You inched closer to him, barely hugging distance away.

He was looking up at you softly, still blushing. He was shaking a little bit, but you were too, of course. Now was your chance. It was now or never. Either you tell him how you feel now, or hold it in and never find out if your feelings are reciprocated. Your heart was ready to burst out of your chest, but you couldn’t hold back any longer.

♡

“Mammon, you know I care about you... more than myself sometimes, if I’m being honest. Any time I see you enter the room or my eyes meet up with you, I get tons of butterflies inside. You make me feel like I’m not just some useless human that nobody likes. You make me feel special, and I just want you to know that... I love you. I’m in love with you...” you paused, too nervous to continue.

Mammon.exe has stopped working. You... love HIM? The moron, the idiot, the scumbag? You deserve better, but he can’t deny how he really feels. His brothers aren’t anywhere around, so now’s his chance.

“I-human I... I love you too. Y’mean everything to me. I can’t stand seeing my brothers eyeing you up and taking all of my time with ya away from me. You’re MY human... my... my treasure. You deserve better than me, I’m just some lousy good-for-nothi-” he couldn’t speak anymore. You held him by his cheeks and pulled his face to yours, kissing him on his lips. The first tender moment shared between the two of you, your first kiss. He sits still for a moment before realizing what’s happening, leaning into your kiss and holding you by your waist. Your chests graze against one another as the kiss turns more passionate. Mammon slides his tongue against your lips asking for permission before you slide your tongue in between his. You felt higher than a kite at that moment, the butterflies seemingly flying out through the top of your head.

Before long, you were straddling his lap on the hood of his car, breathing into his neck as he planted kisses along your collarbone, nibbling at you and caressing your lower back. You both pulled away from each other to look into each others’ eyes.

“So this is really happening huh?” you blush and look down, feeling a tad bit shy. Mammon brings his hand up to your cheek, some of his fingers lacing into your hair. “We don’t have to do anything ya don’t wanna do, but first...” he places his hands lovingly on your hips and looks into your eyes. “I want you to be mine and only mine, ya hear? No mackin’ on my brothers or anythin’... you’re MY treasure. Well, if you’ll let me have ya...” he starts blushing too, barely able to keep his eyes on you. The words you have been waiting to hear, that you’re HIS and only his... it makes you melt. You hold onto his hips, and lean in to whisper into his ear. “Of course I’m yours, and only yours. You can have all of me if you want it, and I mean ALL of me...” you whisper and nibble on his earlobe, a smirk forming across your face.

He can’t hold back anymore. He slams his mouth against yours in the most passionate kiss, moaning against your lips and pulling you in closer, pressing you against his chest. His hands start to slip under your shirt, making their way up your bare back until he reaches about midway. He looks at you as if he’s asking permission, to which you respond by grazing your hands over his upper thighs. You lean in once again to whisper sensually, “So have you ever done it in your car?”

♡

His excitement cannot be contained, his body heats up hotter as the bulge in his pants grows harder. Without another word, Mammon scoots off of the car, grabbing you underneath your thighs and carrying you into the backseat of his car, placing you gently while he pushes the seats back and reclining them back further. The open space has grown larger. He climbs his way into the car and shuts the door behind him, hovering over you.

He doesn’t waste any time before he starts to undress you. He slips your uniform jacket off followed by your tank top, revealing your black lace bralette. You whisper in his ear “You like that? I bet you’ll like it more when you see the panties I have to match.”

You set off a fire in his chest, a low growl seeping out from his throat. He sheds his uniform jacket and tears off his undershirt, a huge ripping noise emerging, making you increasingly wet as the tension increases. His bare chest is a glorious sight to behold... so sexy and strong, so protective.

He pushes you back against the seat and makes room to slide off your uniform pants, whilst you slide your shoes off and kick them into the passenger seat beside you. He makes his way down to your feet, carefully sliding off your socks which he notices have a grimm pattern on them, and slyly smirks. His eyes scan your exposed skin from your head to your toes and back up, revving him up even more.

♡

He begins to kiss you from your feet, up your calves and your thighs, until he reaches your inner thighs. Your black lace panties meet his face, becoming more and more flushed. He slides his hands up to the waistband and toys with the lace, planting his face against the fabric. That smell... the smell of arousal... it’s so strong. He could only imagine how wet you are for him. He looks up at you and you nod, giving permission to continue.

Mammon growls and grabs your waistband with his teeth, the sound of tearing lace floods the car. You moan in response, wishing you could hear him like this all the time. Your hands reach down to your now exposed heat and stroke the lips, shining from how slick he made you. Mammon’s eyes start shining, staring down as if he’s a predator who’s just hunted down his prey. He licks his lips and flashes his teeth, slight fangs showing. You spread your lips for him and make your legs more comfortable, inviting him to take a taste.

“Mn... you’re so perfect Y/N, so wet for me, I can almost taste it,” he leans down and begins lapping his tongue at your clit. Shudders run up and down your spine from the senastion, bringing out a sensual moan from your chest, back arching. Mammon grips onto your thighs and holds them open. He drags his tongue up and down your opening, sliding it inside of you. He moans into you, admiring how you taste, your flavor. He makes his way back up to your clit, the tip of his tongue dancing around it. He looks up and you and smirks, sliding two fingers inside of you, pulsing them in and out at a steady pace, curling his fingertips from time to time. You can’t help but let out a moan, never having felt so stimulated and so turned-on before.

“M-Mammon... p-p-please... k-keep going b-baby...” you moaned out as he brought you closer and closer to your orgasm. Did you just call him your baby? Oh, he heard that. He wants to hear it again. He pulses his fingers inside you faster and faster, sucking on your clit, giving you no mercy. The heat inside of you is unbearable. You begin to buck your hips against his face and grab him by the hair, pushing him against your heat, your other hand gripping tightly against the leather seat below you,

It was taking everything Mammon had to not whip himself out and slam himself into you, but he had to make himself more comfortable. As he continued, he used his left hand to undo his pants, releasing his bulge hidden by his boxers. He was only getting harder as you moaned his name again and again.

“I’m... I’m gonna.. gaaaAAAHH!” you moaned out as you reached your orgasm, letting your grip loose from his hair as your body let go of the tension. Mammon laps his tongue down to clean up the mess you made. He gathers some on his tongue, looking up to you with his tongue sticking out, when he suddenly takes it into his mouth and swallows you.

He notices the flaming blush that adorns your cheeks. He brings himself up, sitting on your thighs, his bulge prominent. You stare down his body, glazed in sweat, realizing he lapsed into his demon form as you came down from your orgasm. His horns were shining, wings folded against his back as the car wasn’t a big enough space to let them free. You were positioned on the driver’s side back passenger’s seat, so you decided to slide into the center seat. You reach your hands to touch Mammon’s back, stroking his wings ever so gently. He moans in response, realizing he’s sensitive there. You begin to help guide them open as he leans into you. They fly open and block the whole view out of the windshield, darkening the space between you.

♡

Your hands come down to meet his waistband, tugging on it carefully. You look up into Mammon’s eyes, he can see the desire written over your face. He makes his bulge dance in response, prompting you to go for it. You drag down his boxers and out springs his length, glistening from his precum. It looks so tasty. You lean back in your seat to where you are practically laying down, gripping behind his thighs and urging him to come forward. He was on his knees, his length shadowing over your chest, his tip just barely against your lips. You hold yourself up by your elbows, turning up to him, teasing him “I bet you want your cock in my mouth, don’t you Mammon? You want to see your fragile human squirm under you, taking all of you inside of them?”

Oh, you did it now. His claws getting ever so longer as a growl comes from deep in his chest. “If you want it, show me just how badly,” your last words as he gripped your hair and pushed your mouth around his length, letting out a choke. He moaned in pleasure as he felt himself at the back of your throat, vibrations coming from you barely fitting him inside you. Mammon begins thrusting his hips back and forth, you sucking up on his length oh-so-perfectly. The smell of arousal and the sound of moans fill the car, enveloping both of you. All either of you can feel is bliss. He breaks the silence. 

“Y-Y/N... y-you’re so warm, ya s-suck me off so well, k-keep going, I’m getting close-” He can’t speak anymore, feeling the surge of pleasure rush up through his thighs as you swirl your tongue around him, bringing him to the edge. You pull your mouth off of his length and put his hand around it, urging him to get himself off. “I would love if the Great Mammon would cum for me, I want to feel it all over my face, I want you to make me yours, show me who owns me,” you moan up at him, pulling down your bra to release your warm breasts, toying with them to tease him.

“Oh f-fuck, y-you’re all mine, my treasure, my b-baby, I’m.. I’m...” he groans out, and he’s pushed over the edge. He bucks forward, letting out a deep deep growl, moaning your name and climaxing all over your face and your chest, his cum hot against your skin. He looks down at you taking his load and lets out another groan, watching as you lap it up with your fingertips, eventually licking them clean.

♡

He pushes you down against the leather seats, his length rubbing against your throbbing heat, aching for you. You let out a squeal from your sensitivity, your chest arching up towards him. You reach your hands down to try to push him into you but he stops you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them down above your head. He pushes his lips firmly against yours, exploring your mouth with his tongue. Your chests are touching, he’s just about burning you with the heat radiating from his body.

He pulls away from your face and looks down to you, it looks like he wants to say something. He looks... nervous? After all of that?

“Mammon, are you okay?” you asked gently, turning your head slightly, a smile on your face. “Y-yeah, I just don’t wanna hurt ya. I tried to open ya up for me but what if it’s too much for your human body to handle?” he sighs and stares away for a moment. He loosens the grip on your wrists and you cup both of his cheeks, whispering up at him softly, “I trust you with my life, Mammon. I feel so safe with you, you’re my protector. The Great Mammon. I promise if it’s too much I’ll tell you right away. It’s okay baby.”

He nods and smiles with a blush in response, he couldn’t be happier to hear you say those words to him, as unexpected as they are.

You spread open your legs for him, situating your body in a more comfortable spot, preparing for the time of your life. You lift yourself up with your hands and whisper into his ear, “Take me for a ride, won’t you?”

♡

He growls and stretches his arms and his back, preparing himself. You want a ride? A ride is what you’re gonna get, and it’s gonna be a bumpy one.

He picks up your bottom half by your thighs, dragging you towards him, putting you in the perfect position. He takes hold of his length and lines himself up with your opening, rubbing his tip up and down your heat. You squirm under him, pleading with him in your head, dying for him to give you what you’ve only dreamed of for nearly a year now. He hears you struggling and lets out a low chuckle, a bit evil. He likes to see you all worked up for him, there’s nothing better, honestly.

He begins sliding his length inside of you, the heat from within immediately making him jolt. He can’t help the arousal from feeling you around him, squeezing him tight. You let out a small whimper and look up to him, concern suddenly written all over his face.

Your wrists had been freed a while ago so you take this opportunity to grab onto his soft bottom, pushing him further into you, moaning right in his ear. It hurts... it hurts so good. He’s so big compared to you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he hits the deepest parts of you. You must have awakened something in him, the look in his eyes giving him an almost primal vibe. He leans down and whispers into your ear along with a growl “That’s a good human, take all of me inside of ya, scream my name, ‘m gonna fuck you so hard ya won’t walk for a week...”

He thrusts in and out of you at a fast pace, hitting your core over and over again. You’re both moaning and groaning into each others’ ears. Mammon grips hard onto the headrests of the seats, pounding into you like it’s his last day to live. Your hands grasping at his shoulders, you can’t help but claw your nails down, leaving red scratches all over his back. He almost hisses in response, causing you to moan out louder. He takes his right hand and brings it to your throat, silencing you. Your eyes roll back into your head once again, your back arching and your hands gripping tight against the leather seats, nearly ripping them open.

♡

His thrusts speed up, bringing you closer and closer to the biggest orgasm of your life. Mammon's hand around your throat, you try to let out a sentence, “Mammoney baby, I’m gonna c-cum for you, p-please, d-don’t hold back,” you managed to say. His face goes beat red and wings flutter behind him. 

You stroke his horns atop his head, barely letting out one last sentence. “F-fill me up with your cum, m-mark your t-territory, I’m a-all yours-” your sentence is cut off as your orgasm takes over your body, Mammon releasing your throat, you proceeding to scream his name in pleasure as you gripped his length inside of you, trying to juice him.

He pounds his length into you faster and faster, bringing himself to the edge of his climax. He can’t hold back, can’t speak. He brings his head down to bite your neck, leaving teeth marks and a little bit of blood afterwards, marking you as his. He sucks on his marking and groans out loudly in pleasure, unable to contain himself any longer. You can feel his length twitch as he fills you up inside, heating the inner walls of your core, giving you the most butterflies you’ve ever had.

♡

You both look down and giggle along with deep breaths, you did a number to the seats of his car. You look at him in worry as he sees the condition of the leather. He notices that you look scared so he holds you tight to him, body-to-body warmth between you.

“I can already tell what you’re ‘bout to say, and it’s alright. Y’mean more to me than some leather seats. Now I can look at my seats ‘n remember my first time with ya, amirite?” he says with a smile, placing the most gentle of kisses on your lips, glazed with sweat.

You go to try to stand up to get out of the car but your body is beyond it’s limits. Mammon notices you struggling to get up and chuckles. “I told ya you wouldn’t be able t’walk for a while.”

♡

He pulls his boxers back on and picks you up bridal style out of the car seat, carrying you down the stairs and onto his bed gently. He remembers tearing up your underwear so he dashes to his closet, finding one of his favorite t-shirts and a pair of pajama pants and swiftly bringing them over to the bed.

“Put these on, we don’t need ya walking out with stains on your uniform and no underwear,” he explains with a giggle. He looked up at you to see you looking sad. “What’sa matter treasure?”

“Well, I was hoping... maybe... that I could stay with you for the night?” you ask, nervously waiting for a response. Mammon helps you take off your bralette and get dressed in his comfy clothes, and cups your cheek, looking into your eyes.

“Of course y’can stay with me, you’re my human! My treasure! Who wouldn’t wanna stay with the Great Mammon anyway?” he smirks and chuckles, you smacking his chest in return.

He crawls up into the bed with you, laying you next to him and pulling your back into his chest. He covers you both with his bedspread and begins rubbing your arms, resting his cheek against your ear. He had never felt this way before. He really fell for a human. Does he regret it? Not at all, he wouldn’t have it any other way. The only problem now? Now he feels like he has to protect you forever, all the time. He loves you too much to ever see you get hurt.

“S-so... does this mean... y-you’re my girlfriend?” Mammon let out shyly, almost expecting you to say something negative or reject him.

You turn back to face him, your arm around his waist. You smile up at him, “I would love nothing more than to be your girlfriend... your treasure.” You plant the lightest kiss on his forehead and turn back around as he begins to spoon you again. Within the next few minutes, you fell asleep in his arms, not a care in the world, no thoughts besides the thought of being his treasure forever.

♡

The brothers felt bad about what happened earlier and were worried about Mammon’s well-being. Lucifer approached his door with the brothers, quickly realizing it’s locked. He took his master keys out of his coat pocket and unlocked Mammon’s door. He took a few steps in and froze in place. His brothers glanced with him over his shoulder to see Mammon with his arms around you, protecting you, sleeping next to you.

They all couldn’t bring themselves to make a sound. They couldn’t believe their eyes. Y/N... and Mammon?

“It’s about time he told her how he felt!” Asmo shouted as the brothers all shushed him, not wanting to wake the two of you.

“We can talk to him in the morning, let him have peace for once today. I can only imagine Y/N needs rest as well,” Lucifer explained.

Lucifer and the brothers turned around and Lucifer locked the door behind him, a cheeky smirk on his face. He was proud of his brother for finally being honest with himself and taking pride in what he wanted. Would he ever let Mammon know that? Oh, hell no.

♡

I’ve wanted to see a fic about this ever since I fell in love with Mammon and saw his room, so I wrote it!

 I’m only comfortable with F!MC writing since I’ve never familiarized myself with GN!MC or M!MC. My apologies!

I do NOT give permission to post this anywhere else. I also have this posted on Wattpad, my username is daradoodlebug. If you like my work, please feel free to like, comment, follow, share, or REBLOG. Thank you for taking the time to read my first piece!

[rudysrings]

No Strings Attached

Warnings: Slight angst, sexual implications

Summary: Bucky tells you that he can’t keep doing the no strings attached thing with you anymore.

Word Count: 450 words

Masterlist

Sweaty, spent and exhausted, you collapsed on his chest, your jaw slack from pure euphoria. It was good. It was always good. It was the best you ever had, as much as you hated to admit it. Bucky always knew exactly what to do, how to get you where you needed to be, because he could read you like a goddamn book--like one of those cheap, erotica novels your best friend always raved about.

He held you by your hips, still coming down from the shared high you had just experienced.

A hand in your hair, he flicked his eyes to your lips, asking permission to cross a line you hadn’t yet dared to blur.

You licked our lips, wanting nothing more than to slot them against his pretty, pink ones, something tender melting in some deep corner of your heart, begging you to give in.

Instead, you chuckled, voice raspy from overuse. “Uh uh, mister. I can’t do another round. I am literally jell-O right now.”

Bucky hummed. He usually let it go when you brushed off his caring tendencies, but he persisted this time. Touching your nose to his, he said, “Just wanted to kiss ya, doll.”

You flinched, “Isn’t that encroaching past friends-with-benefits territory?”

Bucky shrugged, drawing across your spine with his fingertips, his hands on your bare skin still making you shiver. He smirked at that. “Maybe...so?”

“So?” You scoffed. “I thought we were clear about what this is, Bucky.” You sat up, looking down at him.

Bucky brushed your hair back from where it had fallen completely out of your updo into your face. “I know.”

“It doesn’t sound like you know—”

“--What did you expect?”

“Excuse me?”

“Doll, you can’t just show up at my place, in the middle of the night, completely heart broken because of that job offer you didn’t get, lean on me for support, and expect me not to feel something for you.”

“It’s just sex, Bucky.”

“At least respect me enough to not lie to me, love.” Bucky took his hands off of you, and you missed them dearly.

“It’s not just sex,” you sighed.

“I know, sweetheart,” He tapped your thigh, pulling you back down onto his chest.

“What are we gonna do, Buck?”

Kissing your forehead, Bucky said. “First, we’re gonna rest up so we can go for another round.”

You giggled, slapping his chest playfully, “Bucky!”

He laughed with you, chest rumbling. “I don’t know what we’re going to do, doll. For now, I’ve got you here and that’s enough, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Now how about that fourth round?”

Marvel Taglist: @ocean-breezq

Send me an ask, dm, etc. anywhere that’s convenient to be added to any tag list <3

[ve1vetyoongi]

wherever you will go | jjk

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Genre: actor!oc, director!jungkook, smut, angst, humour.

Word count: 21k

Summary:  Not much happens when you grow up by the coast. Tourists come and go, the theatre where you work shows the same shows over and over and there’s always sand and salt in the air. Your dreams of making it big in the city are exactly that: dreams. When your hopes of becoming an actress are shattered into a million pieces, you find yourself getting drawn to a captivating up-and-coming movie director by the name of Jeon Jungkook. With his bright eyes and charming smile, he seems determined to glue your pieces back together -- even if it means leaving Ocean City behind for good.

Warnings: themes of loss/grief, mentions of death of a parent, dom!jungkook, dom/sub themes, spanking, squirting, unprotected sex, oral sex (f recieving).

Rating: Mature.

A/N: Hello loves! HAPPY JK DAY!! This fic is a lil celebration of our golden boy Jungkook so I hope you enjoy!! This whole fic is sickeningly fluffy and reads like a pretentious YA novel but ya girl wrote this while she was stuck in quarantine a few weeks ago and I debated not posting this bc I lowkey love it lowkey hate it so pleasedonthateme if it’s bad LOL. Also -- just incase you haven’t read the warnings already there is a running theme that deals with the loss of a parent (a topic very close to my heart, hence why this piece was especially healing to write.) so reader discretion is advised if that is triggering to you in any way shape or form!!!! P.P.S Largely unedited so pls bare with any mistakes!

Prelude.

You're late for your work shift, you note, as you catch sight of your watch face glaring up at you menacingly from the arm clutching the handle bars of your bike. As if your mood couldn't get any more miserable -- the dreary morning drizzle that falls from the sky and drips icily down the back of your nape was bad enough.

Goddamn, you groan to yourself as you will your feet to pedal ever faster. Now my hair is gonna be frizzy.

It's a Saturday and the theatre where you work always opens earlier at the weekends. You promised you'd be on time today, but yet here you are, speeding down the worn in sandy sidewalks of your seaside town a whole block away when you should've been opening up half an hour ago.

It's a habit of yours, being late. And as hard as you try, you just can't change a habit. But it can't be helped you suppose. Continuity is all you've ever known. That's the thing about living in a tiny seaside town. Things never change.

The view from your bedroom window has been the same for as long as you can remember — Ocean City — Aka, block after block of rainbow coloured houses with flaky paint leading up to the harbour where boats bob nonchalantly and fishermen reel in their catches beneath the gull filled sky. Beyond it the beach; greyish rolling waves and upturned pebbles nestled atop of hard sand in the winter and clear water and brightly coloured beach towels and brave surfers in the summer.

Nobody ever leaves, and the tourists that arrive in summer never stay. Life becomes a predictable practice, just each day lived out to the next in an endless cycle of never ending continuity. It's suffocating and endless and sometimes you feel like you're just a pawn on a giant chess board, destined to move one agonising square forward at a time, never diagonally. It's hard to change directions when you've been taught to stick to what you know.

You didn't always live here, in this town of continuity. You lived in the big city for a while, where no day was the same as another. But after your mother died you and your older brother were shipped off to live with your dad, who wouldn't know the definition of adapting if it hit him square in the face. He's always been the same square shouldered, balding dude in his forties who never wanted kids and never quite got over losing your mother to the big buck actor she ran off with when you were two.

So that's how you ended up here. Late for work at your job in the country's most prized vacation spot. And your boring reality.

You roll past the beach huts on the shoreline that alternate between vibrant pink and muted blue, barely paying attention to the boardwalk with its little boat house that stretches out into the horizon like a crooked finger. When it gets dark, you can spot the pier carnival lights flashing in the distance from here as they dance across the reflection of the pale white moon and play among the waves.

Even now, the yellow lights of the ornate street lamps that line the water's front shine like tiger's eyes against the sky just like they always have when you turn down the familiar route that takes you past the winding lanes of trinket shops and the happy hour bars and the carnival that feels strangely empty at such an early hour, not a single rollercoaster ride in operation.

Before long you're skidding to a stop outside of the The Crestmont, the old theatre where you work. It's everything you'd expect from a vintage cinema; pink and blue neon lights and a gold trimmed ticket booth out front with a three-sided marquee that extends from the front of the building like a brightly lit airport runway. You hurry beneath it, grateful for the protection it provides from the rain that has started to come down in lashes now, before heading over to the rack around the back of the building where you can chain your bike.

The Crestmont used to be somewhat of a hotspot back in the day or so your told, but these days it only shows cartoons at a discounted price for the neighbourhood kids and the occasional local production of some worn out musical everyone has seen a hundred times before. It's lost all it's magic, everyone says. But you disagree; you probably spend more time here than anyone, and there's magic in every inch of this place.

From the red velvet curtains to the grand chandelier, The Crestmont is one of a kind. Sometimes you disappear into the theatre by yourself for a while unbeknownst to your manager. You can almost taste the laughter and the tears and the love that has been spilled and shared unapologetically amongst these seats. Pure magic.

Your mom left a piece of herself here, too. If you close your eyes you can hear her laughter spilling out into the theatre, or her lilting singing voice filling every nook and cranny like a haunting siren. She was the Crestmont's star. Ocean City's sweetheart.

There's a wall of fame in the lobby. It's covered in portraits crested with gold frames, all filled with pictures of the Crestmont's greatest performers. You've spent hours there — (turns out it's the perfect hiding spot from your manager) — fingers tracing the plaques beneath each one, all inscribed with names that townsfolk whisper with dreamy looks in their eyes. Some are black and white, some colour, but all of them depict pretty faces with beaming smiles that never seem to fade.

Not even your mom's. Her smile is pearly and bright, right above the plaque with her birthdate. And her death date.

And right there at the end, an empty frame. Your frame. You can feel it. You already know how you'll pose for your picture. Hair over one shoulder, hand on hip, smile so convincing that it'll be like every happiness in your heart is written right across your forehead proudly, and you won't have to dull it any longer.

You finish hooking a chain around the handlebars of your bike, catching sight of your reflection in the darkened windows. Staring back at you is a girl dressed in a maroon v-neck with a preppy dicky bow tied around her collar. You frown. The white shirt itches and the high waisted pants make your crotch look weird but the uniform is compulsory. The only thing uglier is the sour expression on your face, which you try to smooth out with your thumb, experimenting with plastering a sickly smile to your face instead. It might be convincing if your lips didn't strain and your eyes weren't so prone to rolling without your permission.

You need to learn to hide your emotions, your father said. You have your feelings written across your face. Customers don't like that.

It's true; customer's didn't usually like you, your unforgiving face or when you spilled cola down their blouse or spat in their popcorn. One more complaint and you were on the path to being fired once and for all, and although in some ways you would be glad to say goodbye to the stupid slushie machine that always gets stuck and the ungrateful customers and the goddamn uniform, you can't loose this job.

Not when it's your ticket to making it big. Then customers will point to your picture as they pass and clutch their chest with a snide superiority, Oh! Can you believe she served me a cola once? I always knew she was gonna make it! instead of Would it kill you to smile a little, honey?

So you swallow a sigh and make your smile as convincing as possible and march inside of the ornate theatre doors of The Crestmont, hoping that today may be the day where things finally change for once.

Where it begins

"I'm going to work!" You call as you you pull a baseball cap down over your hair to cover it's unbrushed wildness. "I won't be back for a while so don't wait up, okay Taehyung?"

You pause with your hand on the door, listening carefully for a response; the small house you live in pulsates with the bass of some indie rock album your brother and his friends are obsessed with at the moment, and your eyes roll when you peer up the staircase and find Taehyung's bedroom door firmly closed like always.

With a shake of your head you scribble out a message on a sticky note — GONE 2 WORK. — and leave it for him to read when he eventually emerges from his man cave in search of sustenance and finds you gone.

You brush away the funny ache that nestles in your stomach. This is nothing new. You're used to not being heard. Your dad is always gone for trips you suspect involve more play than work, and your older brother pretends he's not broken by hanging around with the neighbourhood cool kids and barraging himself in his room for days on end. Despite living under one roof it feels as though you're miles apart, an invisible barrier separating you indefinitely.

You weren't always like this; distant, always stepping on eggshells around each other. You were a family once. A happy one. But since the accident there's been an absence in this house, and nothing has been the same since.

Still, you know that beneath Taehyung's standoffish persona, he's still your big brother. He worries about you. So you tack the note to the fridge and make your way outside.

The lawn is already brown despite it only being late May, and summer is shaping up to be hot and sticky, though you live two blocks away from the beach so the coolness of the ocean still thankfully pervades against your perspiring skin, the gulls already calling you with their high pitched squaks from down at the shoreline.

You've barely made it to the end of the drive before there's the sound of knuckles rapping against glass. You look up and your heart jumps into your mouth. Staring back at you is a pair of dark eyes from behind the upstairs windowpane. Even from this distance you can see how they shine, deep and dark like a cup of black coffee, and you'd recognise the annoyingly cute smirk that matches them anywhere.

Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Taehyung's best friend, and, unfortunately, your crush for as long as you knew what the word love meant.

"Hey, Y/N!" Your heart sinks when the window slides open and a messy head of brown hair sticks out through the gap and points at you with a pout. "You're leaving already? Without me?"

Oh; another thing about Jeon Jungkook. He's also your co-worker, which means you spend 16 hours a week in his company, much to the glee of your heart and the dismay of your conscience.

You weren't exactly surprised when you turned up to the Crestmont theatre for your first shift and were left in the capable hands of none other than Jungkook to teach you the ins and the outs of the popcorn machine and the ticket booth.

For as long as you've known him he's been somewhat of a film buff. He practically grew up holding a camera. You always used watch him and your brother making home movies in the backyard, fit with ketchup sachets for blood and endless costumes from your mom's closet. And the one time you stayed at his house when your dad went away for a while after the accident, you saw all the classic movie posters on his bedroom wall; Casablanca, Singing in the Rain, Jaws. So it made total sense for Jungkook to be at the Crestmont. In fact, you couldn't imagine him anywhere else.

That day you were mostly just surprised that he knew who you were at all. While you had spent years watching him from your bedroom window while he kicked a ball around with Taehyung or avoiding his eyes at the table when he stayed for dinner, he had never so much as glanced in your direction.

Deep down you think the reason he was so quick to take you under his wing is because he knew first hand how hard the accident hit your family. You suppose he feels he owes it to Taehyung to keep you in high spirits.

Although if you weren't you and he wasn't him, you'd swear Jungkook's attentions had become almost flirtatious as of late. He always goes the extra mile to spend time with you, and you even though you know it'll end up with you getting hurt you can't bring yourself to stop him.

You see, Jungkook has a gift for subtle charm. Like how he always sneaks you sodas out back on your lunch break, never forgetting the extra syrup — tooth rottingly sweet just how you like it — slipping one of his own dollars into the cash register to avoid a telling off from your manager. Or how he insists on helping you clean up after the theatre is empty, showing you the best secret places like down the back off seats to find misplaced trinkets and the creaky floorboard where your manager hides his cigarettes. How he insists on walking you home after the evening shift, even if he says he's going this way to see Taehyung anyway.

You've spent countless hours pondering over whether his sweet talking words mean as much to him as they do to you. And as much as you know it's unlikely for someone like Jeon Jungkook to ever have feelings for you, you can't help the way your heart speeds up every time he shoots you one of his signature bunny smiles that light up his whole face like he's happiness personified. And you can't bring yourself to hate him for it.

"I did call," you respond matter of factly, finally sucking in a breath of courage to turn around and squint up at him through the afternoon sun with a shrug. "But that trash you're listening too was too loud for you guys to hear me."

Jungkook's eyes widen as he fumbles around beneath the windowsill and pops up again holding up a shiny vinyl record sleeve. You recognise it instantly; it's from his favourite film — Submarine. He hardly ever shuts up about it.

"This is not trash. This is, like, the best movie soundtrack ever made!" He shakes his head as he takes the needle off of Taehyung's vintage record player, music ceasing with a scratch, and slips it into the sleeve with a grin. "Good thing I have it downloaded so we can listen to it on the way to work, hm?"

You roll your eyes and tap your foot impatiently, and at that, Taehyung appears behind him.

"You're leaving already?" He frowns, words directed at Jungkook even as he glances through narrowed eyes at you stood awkwardly on the front lawn.

"Yup. My shift starts in twenty." Jungkook shrugs, disappearing into the room for a second before he emerges again with a backpack slung over his shoulder. "Sorry dude. I can come back afterwards though, if you want?"

Taehyung purses his lips. Even from here you can see the stress lines embedded in his forehead that make him look older than his humble age of nineteen, somehow weak unlike how you always saw him as a kid. Big and strong; untouchable; your brother.

His blunt eyes never quite meet Jungkook's as he shakes his head softly. "'S good. I was gonna try and sleep, anyway, before the sun goes down. Didn't get much shut eye last night. Not with the..."

Nightmares. Taehyung trails off, but you know that's what he's alluding to. The nightmares that turn your big strong brother into a sniffling mess in the dead of night, kicking around mercilessly until you sneak into his bed and whisper to him until he slips into slumber again. Not that you ever acknowledge it in the morning over your bowls of cereal and vacant good morning's.

"Okay." Jungkook's face momentarily falls; a rare occurrence from the boy who seems to be perpetually cheerful. He pats Taehyung on the shoulder gently. "Take care of yourself, okay man?"

Taehyung just nods, letting out a yawn as he rolls into a stretch. "See ya tomorrow."

You're jolted from your thoughts when Jungkook throws his left leg out of the window, then the other, arms bulging in just the right way where they poke out of the sleeves of his plain white tee as he climbs down the drainpipe and lands with a thump on the soles of his high top sneakers.

"Hey kiddo." He grins as he wipes the palms of his hands on the thighs of his ripped jeans, before messing up your hair despite your groan of protest.

"Don't call me that. You're only a year older than me."

You're startled when you meet the pair of warm eyes that glint golden brown in the summer evening light, chest contracting as you look away and break into a fast walk towards the street.

"And you know you can just use the front door right?"

You hear him snort behind you, neglecting to use the front gate and instead launching over the fence so he lands directly in front of you on the sidewalk.

"How am I supposed to impress my best friends little sister if I can't show off my guns?" He flexes his arm, but you just brush past him with a roll of your eyes.

"You're an idiot."

You hear the clunk of his bike chain unhooking from the gate, before a set of wheels pedal up on the sidewalk beside you. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"Uh, to work?" You offer bluntly, squinting at him through the sun. "You should be too, we start in fifteen minutes."

"I mean why are you walking? What happened to your bike?"

You roll your eyes. "Some tourist kids slashed the wheels at the beach."

"Shit. Really?" Jungkook tuts, but you don't miss the glint in his eye as he nods towards the pegs on the back of his bike that were made for carrying a passenger."Then I guess it's my lucky day. Hop on, we can ride together."

You come to a standstill, arms crossed tightly. "I'd rather walk."

"Oh come on!" He wiggles his eyebrows. "It'll take double the time if we go on foot, and I recall it being you who got a final late warning last week."

"If we go on foot?" You laugh breathily, determined to stand your ground. "Just go on ahead, I'm good here."

"Well, I'm not exactly going to leave you here alone on the side of the road now am I? So I'll be forced to walk with you. And I'm older than you remember? Look, I'm already out of breath! My legs aren't what they used to be, y'know."

"Fine!" With a pout you take the helmet resting in his front basket and hook it underneath your chin, biting your lip to stop a smile from gracing your lips at the excitement that lights up Jungkook's features. "But only because I want you to shut up."

"Your wish is my command." He says with a pat to your head. "Hold on tight, okay?"

And as you wrap your arms around his waist, you're sure his ears heat up a deep shade of red, even it could just be the evening light playing tricks on you.

The theatre at the Crestmont feels eerily quiet when its empty.

You know that because even though your shift was supposed to end at 5, you offered to stick around to help clean up after today's performance. Phantom of the Opera.

"Jesus," You groan as you pick up another sticky soda cup that someone had kindly spilled all over the ground for you to clean up, dropping the offender into a black trash bag. "Doesn't anyone around here know how to use a trash can?"

You fall into one of the theatre seats with a sigh and run your fingers over the scarlet velvet, worn yet plush, the texture soothing you instantly. You tilt your head back and let the silence engulf you. No orchestra, no musical numbers, no stage crew shouting directions. No whirring cotton candy machine. Just you and the stage.

From here you can see every detail on the high ceiling littered with renaissance-style paintings of mermaids and babies armed with heart shaped bow and arrows. Your mom was an actress. When you were a kid you used to spent hours staring at them while she rehearsed. You were convinced they came alive once the theatre closed up for the night, their cheeky smiles evidence of a secret only you knew.

A trail of rainbows is cast by the grand chandelier hung in the center, and it draws your attention all the way down the aisles and up to the stage.

The Crestmont is only small, fitting perhaps 200 people at most. It's hardly Broadway. But the fire in your chest ignites as you glance side to side before sidling up the creaking wooden steps that wind up to the Crestmont's center stage. Your favourite part of the whole theatre.

It's not the first time you've done this. You often like to come up here after everyone has gone home, even though you technically aren't supposed to. There's a certain magic about being alone up here as you collect the lone roses that were thrown on stage by tonight's audience. Breathing in the musty smell of butter popcorn that lingers on the velvet curtains, feel the warmth of the bright stage lights glazing your skin. Something about it feels like home.

The first time you ever saw the Crestmont stage was on tv, watching a grainy camera shakily capture your mom in the very same spot you find yourself right now.

Your mom used to have a cardboard box filled with her old audition tapes. Everything from Hamlet to A Streetcar Named Desire, she'd starred in it, and you spent hours together in front of the television set trying to memorise the way she spoke your favourite lines and listening to her lilting voice recite backstage anecdotes about her rendezvous with foreign directors who dined on her in Paris or underground parties with celebrities you had never even heard of as she stroked your hair.

It wasn't until you got a little older that you realised that, just like you, your mom was a dreamer. Sure, she'd visited a couple different states and starred in some makeup commercials once, and that was enough to make her a celebrity in a town as small as this.

But really? She was just a small town actress with dreams larger than herself and way larger than the Crestmont where she made her name. And suddenly the gaps in time where she would disappear for weeks — sometimes months — on end no longer made sense to you. If she wasn't drinking cocktails with the prince of Monaco or clubbing in London, then where was she?

"Down town with those no good roadies," Taehyung told you once. "They made all these empty promises. Told her she'd make it big if she just did what they said. But look how that turned out."

That was the day you realised your mom was a better actress than you ever knew.

She always thought that her dreams would come true. She believed it so hard that you believed it too, naively. But who knows? Maybe they would have if she didn't get into an accident on her way to New York for her big break.

It's easy to imagine how your mom felt up here. She always looked so alive and free in those VHS tapes as she danced effortlessly across the stage with an ethereal weightlessness, the theatre silent except for the melodic sweetness of her monologues that drew tears to the eyes of those who listened eagerly.

If you close your eyes you can hear the roar of the crowd, hands clapping furiously. The orchestra tuning their brass in the pit, bows melodic against strings. Flowers landing at your feet. The deep breath of satisfaction as you take your final bow and the curtain closes.

Just like that you're moving across the stage, reciting the lines you know so well...

"You're gonna be a star like me some day," A voice whispers against your ear, soft and gentle. A memory. Your mom. "Just like me."

And just like that, she's there. In the audience, clapping. For you. And you feel invincible.

The sound of applause breaks you out of your trance. Real applause. You find yourself stood center stage, broom in hand, staring out at row after row of empty seats that gape with the same emptiness that was here when you arrived.

Except one of the velvet lined seats is filled now. Right at the front.

"Encore!" Jungkook whistles, the harsh thwacks of his palms clapping together clanging inside your ears. "Do it again! That was amazing!"

Your chest seizes painfully, a sudden bout of panic turning your blood cold. You feel the colour leave your face. How long has he been here? How long has he been watching?

Jungkook is watching you attentively, eyes soft at the edges with wonder. It makes bile rise in your throat. You can't be up here. Not when there's a pair of eyes looking at you, judging.

"I..." You begin, but the words get caught in your throat.

"I can't do this."

The way Jungkook's eyes widen and he lurches forward to catch you is the last thing you see before your vision goes black.

The boardwalk is strangely quiet for a summer evening. It's happy hour so you suppose most vacationers are already in the bars in their I LOVE OCEAN CITY T-shirts drinking cocktails or whatever. Not that you're complaining.

The smell of hotdogs and vinegar from the vans that line the strip still fill the air, snatches of conversations from children begging their parents to let them go on the waltzer one last time barely audible above the tinkling bells of the carousel. The ride operators drink soda's as they fan themselves with rolled up newspapers, grateful for the gentle hubbub on such a sticky evening, and then there's you, caught up in the middle of it all.

The wooden boards of the pier are warm against he backs of your thighs. You're sat with your legs dangling through the peeling guard rail that lines the strip. It was painted pastel blue at some point but years of sea spray and grubby hands made it fade to a sickly green tinge that matches the ocean.

Speaking of, the ocean would usually be directly below your feet, murky and wild, but today the tide has receded right back to reveal a large strip of sand. The stands suspending the pier rest on top of it so that you could walk right under and around them if you wanted to. You and Taehyung used to do that all the time when you were kids. Searching for barnacles. Exploring the dark places.

"Here. Eat up. You totally passed out on me back there. You could probably do with some sugar."

The soft voice beside you is the only thing loud enough to permeate your daydreams. You don't have look up to know who it belongs to. Jungkook.

He peers down at you, sun beating down against his back. He's holding two vanilla ice cream cones, double scooped, and he thrusts one into your hands before mirroring your position at the edge of the boardwalk.

The walk down here from the Crestmont was more or less silent, and your stomach twists now you realise Jungkook wants to talk.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." You lie. The ice cream is cold and sweet and covers the bitterness. "I just think it's funny."

Jungkook's tongue sneaks out to lick up the melted cream dribbling down his cone. "What is?"

"How this place stays the same but I feel so different." You were born here, raised here. This place was your whole life once, with it's salty air and bustling casino's. But since the accident, something's been bubbling inside you, swelling and crashing like the ocean below that taunts you and you've never felt farther from home in your life as you do now, looking out over the town that just won't budge, just like the funny ache in your chest. "Forget I said it. I don't know why I'm even telling you this."

Jungkook fidgets beside you and runs a hand through his hair with a sigh."It's okay, y'know. To miss her."

Your mom. You know that's who he means. Just the mention of her stings.

"Mhm." You snort. "Tell that to my family. If we all carried on missing mom then we'd be in pretty hot shit by now."

"If it's Taehyung you're worried about, then don't be. He's stronger than he looks."

"Until he's not anymore. And we lose him again just like—" You pause. You hate how you can hear the pain in your voice so you smooth it out. "Just like before. And I can't let that happen. I won't."

Jungkook shifts. As Taehyung's oldest friend he was there for everything in the aftermath of the accident. He was there when you put on a brave face for the sake of your family. He was there when Taehyung couldn't be any more.

"That doesn't mean you have to be strong all the time. Think about it this way. The ocean isn't always this calm right?" He gazes wistfully out over the ocean that swells and crashes against the shore, fingers twirling the gold chain around his neck. "Last winter when we had that huge storm, the waves were so big they smashed right through the pier support beams."

You furrow your brows. "What about it?"

"The ocean was just too much for the pier to bare and it would've come crashing down forever if half the neighborhood didn't come down to the beach in the dead of night, despite the rain, and hold it together until the storm calmed and the emergency repair boats could get to shore."

It's true. You remember how unforgiving the rain was as it pelted down against your back and froze you through to the bone that night as each and every familiar face from your neighborhood came down to the seafront to lend a hand, your family included.

Jungkook was there too. He was the one who knocked on your door in the early hours to spread the word. He got given free churros for life by one of the pier stall owners as a reward.

"What I'm trying to say Y/N, is that Taehyung has you to lean on, right? So who do you have?" Jungkook says, staring at you head on now. His sincerity almost makes you blush.

You bite your lip. Deep down you know that your beams are just as broken as Taehyung's and it's only a matter of time before they come crashing down into the water, and this time there'll be nobody to hold the pieces together.

"I don't need anyone. I'm just fine on my own. I can handle my ocean."

Jungkook brushes your hand. You flinch, so he pulls it back into his lap. "Well if you ever need a life boat, then you know where I am okay?"

You don't believe him, but he's staring at you so expectantly that you just tell him what he wants to hear. You're good at that.

"Okay." You whisper. "Okay."

Children's laughter bubbles up from the beach. You watch their distant silhouettes dancing among the waves. It's Jungkook who breaks the silence before it settles between you and becomes uncomfortable.

"Anyway, what were you doing up there on the stage today?" He smiles, like he's trying to lighten the mood. "You looked like you were having the time of your life before—"

You feel your cheeks start to burn. How long had Jungkook been watching you at the Crestmont? Had he seen the whole thing?

"It was nothing. I was just being dumb."

"Nothing?" Jungkook cocks his head to the side and punches you playfully. "It didn't seem like nothing."

"It just...it makes me feel close to my mom when I'm on the stage." You admit. "I loved watching her when I was a kid. She was always larger than life in my eyes. She had this way of making you really believe she was someone else. It was like she wasn't just acting -- she was becoming. Sometimes...sometimes I think I liked her better when she was in character."

You shake your head with a small smile. "I like me better when I'm in character. I used to dream about going to New York one day and becoming an actress just like she wanted to. Small town girl making it big in the city and all that." You scoff. "But I'm nothing like her. It's just fun to pretend sometimes."

"You're good. At performing. Like, really good." Jungkook's eyes are wide. When he places a hand on your forearm you don't shake it off this time. "You take after her. Everyone says it."

It's true. There's one photo of your mom in the house. It's in Taehyung's room. When you were younger you thought it was your face staring back at you from behind the glass. Sometimes you'll be walking down the boardwalk or serving soda's at work and you'll hear the whispers. See their heads turn. Is it her?

"Pfft. Looks mean nothing." You scoff. "She was fearless. I can't even speak in front of one person without passing out, let alone a crowd."

Realisation crosses Jungkook's face. "Oh. So that's what happened back there? Stage fright?"

"Uh huh." You roll your eyes. "So don't give me the follow your dreams spiel or whatever."

"Hmm." Jungkook uses his arms as a makeshift pillow so he can lay back against the ground. You mirror him, peering through your fingers to watch how the golden rays of the sun swallow his frame. "Remember that play they made us do in middle school?"

"The Nativity?" You raise your eyebrow. It was the first theatre production you were in, before the accident and way before you had stage fright.

"Yeah." He grins. "I was the sheep. Taehyung made fun of me for months afterwards because of that stupid costume my grandma made."

"Yeah." You snort. "You did look sorta dumb."

Jungkook bumps your arm with a playful pout that makes you giggle. "And do you remember how I forgot my lines on stage and nearly pissed myself with stage fright? God, I still remember how mad my dad looked in the front row. We'd practiced that part for weeks. I don't know why it happened. I just froze—" A small smile forms on his lips. "But you didn't. Next thing I know there's a kid in a gold star of Bethlehem costume running on stage to recite my lines for me. You stole the show, remember that? Everyone loved you."

"That was then." You murmur, but you can't suppress the smile tugging at the corners or your mouth. "I'm not the same person."

"You were a year younger than the rest of my class but you auditioned anyway, because you knew that you were the only person who could play the star. Because you were a star."

Jungkook turns so that his head rests on his elbow and you're suddenly so close you can feel his breath ghost across your cheek. Your heart pumps in your ears as you gaze dips down to his rosy lips and back up to his sparkling eyes which bore into yours.

"You still are a star."

The words echo in your ears, soft and sincere. His tongue snakes out to wet his lips. You lose your breath. And then you jump away, placing a safe distance between your bodies before you can do something you regret.

"And what about you. Are you still a sheep?" You tease, turning your face so he can't see how it burns rosy red.

"Nah. Figured out pretty quickly after that that I was better off behind the camera." He chuckles.

"Oh right. You still have that thing?" You nod to the camera in his lap. It's one of those old ones that looks like the type that needs a film reel and a projector, but it's been modified so there's a little viewfinder at the side to check the footage instead. "Can I see?"

"What?" Jungkook blinks.

"Some of the stuff you've filmed?"

"Oh! Right!" It's his turn to flush now, scratching the back of his neck as he anxiously thrusts the camera into your hands and pays close attention to the hangnail at the edge of his thumb as you watch the footage.

Your eyes widen when a familiar scene rolls out on the tiny screen. You, on stage at the Crestmont. Jungkook filmed you.

"This is..."

"You." He rushes."Yeah, I know. Sorry if this is awkward—"

"No. Not at all. I just—" You watch in awe as the you inside the camera moves across the stage with an effortless grace. How the lights make your eyes shine and your skin brighter than you remember it being in the mirror this morning. "How did you do that?"

Jungkook's forehead creases. "Do what?"

"Make me look like...that."

"I didn't do anything." Jungkook shrugs. "That's just how I see you."

You could listen to him say that all day, but you stop yourself mid swoon.

"Don't say things you don't mean."

"I do mean it. And I'll show you." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"How?"

He grabs your hand and squeezes it. Tight. "I don't know how yet but I will."

You roll your eyes. "Good luck, Jeon."

"You know I like a challenge." Jungkook laughs, and the melodic sound goes right to your chest. "I'll make you see yourself how I see you. Just wait."

"Since when did you have four wheels?" You call to Jungkook with a quirk of your brow, resting your elbows on the window ledge of the beat up truck he pulls up in outside the Crestmont.

It's a sticky August afternoon and the rusty red vehicle purrs— or more like splutters — in the parking lot as Jungkook untangles your bike from the rack and lifts it into the cargo bed like it's weightless. Just yesterday he came by with his pump and a patch to fix that goddamn slashed tyre, and now he's stealing it?

"Hey! What are you doing with my bike?"

He is clad in nothing but a white vest and board shorts, and you can see perspiration glimmering at his temples as the salty breeze blowing from the beach ruffles the dark curls that flop over his forehead.

"This is my dad's truck," His eyes flash with pride as he hops into the open drivers side door and makes the engine growl. He nods to the empty seat beside him and pushes his dark round sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, fanning his face with his hands. "And you won't be needing your bike today. Now hurry up and get in, loser. I've been waiting ages for your shift to finish and the AC is broken."

You raise a brow. "We're going somewhere?"

"Yeah. Why else would I be waiting for you to get in my truck?"

"I mean, we're going somewhere in this?" You nod towards the truck's worn tires, the fumes that wisp from the exhaust pipe like a lit cigar. "Are you sure it's safe?"

Jungkook notices the way you bite your lip. You don't even have to tell him the worries that are running through your mind. It's as if he can read them like an open book.

"Are you still scared of riding in cars?" He questions, softly.

You nod. That's what an accident does to someone. Makes them scared of something they ordinarily wouldn't even question.

"A little." The breeze ruffles your hair and you hide behind it. "I'm getting better." You add, so he doesn't feel bad because you know he does. His face tells you as much.

"It's a short drive, if that helps." He rushes. "And I asked Taehyung and he said you'd be okay, but if you aren't then I can just walk you home—"

"No." You shake your head firmly. There's a funny fizzing in your stomach that's been there ever since that day on the boardwalk, and it's only growing stronger and stronger now you're inches away from Jungkook and his warm eyes and gentle smile. You don't want it to end just yet. It's enough to outweigh the wriggling fear that's always inside you just a little. "Where are we going?"

Jungkook's face lights up and your heart flips when you realise it's because of you.

"I told you I was gonna make you see what I see, didn't I?"

"Oh that was today?" You tease. "Must have missed it it in the calendar."

"Stop asking questions! Just get in. Please?"

"Fine." You walk around to the passenger door, sliding in beside him and throwing your bag into the back seat. "But I need to be home by midnight or Taehyung will worry."

"No problemo." Jungkook salutes as he switches on the engine and the truck roars to life. You clasp your hands tightly in your lap and breathe through your nose. You're okay. You're safe."Home by midnight. It's a promise."

You gaze out of the window to stop your thoughts from running wild. Jungkook turns left, away from town and the beach and everything familiar. You watch it get smaller and smaller in the mirrors, strangely relieved. Strangely excited.

"Now will you tell me where we're going?" You ask.

"Nope." Jungkook chuckles when you pout. "Just sit back. Relax. Take in the view. Listen to the music."

He leans across the dash, making a point to keep his eyes on the road as he fiddles with the stereo. A familiar string of guitar chords fill the truck. You recognise them, even if vaguely. Probably from Taehyung's vast collection of records.

"The Beatles right?" You ask, resting your chin on your knee as you dare to take a peek at him, blushing when you find him already staring at you.

"Pfft, yeah. Of course it's The Beatles! Only their greatest soundtrack, like, ever."

You shrug. "I've never listened to them before, so I wouldn't know."

"Oh come on? You haven't seen A Hard Day's Night?" His eyes widen when you shake your head. "Super Fly? Pulp Fiction? Purple Rain?"

You stifle a giggle at the look of pure shock he's sending you. "Nope. Should I have?"

"Absolutely!" He splutters. Passion shines in his eyes. "You're missing out on some of the greatest cinematography known to man!"

"I guess you have a lot to fill me in on, then."

"I sure do." His eyes soften. "Open the glove box."

You open it. Inside you find an assortment of cassette tapes, old and new. You send him a curious look.

"Close your eyes and choose one." He nods. "Go on."

You do as he says and shut your lids tightly, feeling around until your fingers curl around a tape you're strangely drawn to. When you open your eyes you find a worn box in your palm, yellow at the edges, and you're momentarily disappointed until Jungkook hums in approval beside you.

"Good choice! Dirty Dancing. A classic." He takes it from you and slides the tape into the stereo. It crackles a little before the music starts. "Trust me, you'll love it."

The stereo tracklist flashes amber. 01: Do You Love Me?

"You broke my heart 'cause I couldn't dance," Jungkook sings along in a deep voice, eyebrows bouncing as you loll your head to the side to send him an eye roll. "And now I'm back to let you know I can really shake 'em down!"

The song starts, all vibrant guitar and drums. It has a funky 60's groove, like it belongs in a swing dancing club instead of on the highway at sunset. It's a happy song and you think it suits Jungkook just right.

Speaking of Jungkook, he starts to bob his head in time with the beat, fingertips tapping in rhythm against the steering wheel. He looks adorably dorky, losing himself to the song, like he's forgotten you're even sat beside him.

"You look like an idiot." You deadpan, though you can't cover the laugh that escapes you as he sings along louder.

"No, I look like I'm having fun!" Jungkook rolls down the window and turns up the music so loud he has to shout for you to hear him. "Don't you ever do this? Just give in to the music for a while? Let your body do what it wants?"

"Uh, no. I prefer to just listen." You shout back. "Besides, your body should be focused on driving this car right now--"

"Oh come on! Just try it."

"Try it?" You blink, stomach suddenly knotting."Like now? In front of you?"

"Well duh. Look. Copy me."

He starts to shake his shoulders from side to side, fingers clicking as he nods for you to do the same.

"I...okay." You start to copy, but you catch yourself in the rear view mirror and you just look stiff compared to how effortlessly Jungkook moves to the rhythm.

"See you're doing it!" Jungkook grins, throwing his head back. "Feels good huh?"

"Kinda..." You have to admit there is something liberating about just letting go. "Like this?"

Your knees volunteer themselves to the beat, and then your arms, and before you know it you've got your eyes closed, hair whipping around your face as you speed down the interstate

"That's it. Feel the music!"

Before you know it, the song ends and you realise all at once that you're laughing. Loud and free, enough to make your belly hurt. Jungkook is too, the sound better than any song you've ever heard, and neither of you can seem to stop.

"Oh my god." You pant, covering your face with your fingers, embarrassed. "Now we both look like idiots."

"Don't hide from me." Jungkook bites his lip. You're suddenly aware of how close he is. His arms grab your wrists, pulling them away from your face, but he doesn't drop the one closest to him. Instead he links your fingers and uses your shared grip to change the gear as he turns down a winding road.

"I'm shy." You say, and you can feel the heat in your cheeks.

"Why? You're beautiful." Jungkook puts the car into park. You realise all at once that you've been driving for ages and you didn't even panic once. "Besides, we've arrived. And you're not gonna wanna miss seeing this."

The destination Jungkook seems so excited about turns out to be a concrete parking lot.

"Where are we, Jungkook?" You ask, looking around but finding nothing but tyre tracks and dirt.

Jungkook has already hopped out of the drivers side, sliding over the hood of the car to tug open your door with a quirk of his brow.

He holds out his palm, upturned and calloused. "Do you trust me?"

You bite your lip, heart pounding. Do you trust him?

Your body speaks for you and you slide your hand into his. His thumb traces your knuckles reassuringly.

"Yes." You breathe. "I trust you."

"Good."

You yelp when an arm wraps around your waist and hoists you out of the car, tightly interlocked fingers blocking your vision like a makeshift blindfold. "Don't open your eyes until I tell you to."

"Okay." You giggle, feet stumbling as you try to find your balance with the help of a sturdy hand beneath your elbow.

Jungkook hums gently beneath his breath as he guides you up a path that turns from concrete to loose rock to dampened grass beneath the soles of your beat up sneakers. There's a voice in the back of your mind that tells you to be nervous; who knows where he could be taking you right now.

But as you breathe in the musty notes of his cologne and feel your heart flutter in your chest when he comes to a stop and rests his chin on your shoulder, just close enough to feel his laugh ghost across your neck, you don't care where in the world you are right now as long as it's beside him.

"Now, open."

The sun is startlingly bright when you open your eyes for the first time and see the vibrant meadow that stretches as far as you can see.

Wait — that's not the sun. It's sunflowers. Clusters of them, cheerfully waving with the breeze from where you stand on the path that continues for a few steps before it disappears among their stems.

The sunflowers are a burst of golden colour against the fading green of the meadow, and the horizon beyond that which boasts the silhouette of beach rock against the soft blue of the ocean at sunset. There's tracks here and there where the uncut grass is trampled, like some children had played hide and seek.

You reach out a hand and brush your fingertips over the velvety petals; breathe in the botanical scent of the fresh sunny blooms that dances through the meadow. It's breathtaking, you think. There's no coordination, just freedom choreographed by the wind as the tall stems sway back and forth in their gentle dance.

Before you know it you've taken off into a run, grinning with childlike glee when the tall grass tickles your nose and the sun whispers against your neck.

"Jungkook, this place is—"

"Beautiful right?" You nod breathlessly, blushing deeply when you come to a stop and find him staring right at you. He squeezes your hand and that's when you notice your fingers are still interlinked. "I come here a lot. When I need to think."

"How did you find this place?"

"Taehyung and I stumbled upon it a few summers ago by accident." He says. "Nobody knows about it. It's our secret."

"It's so beautiful." You whisper. "The whole world needs to see this."

Jungkook kicks at a stone with the toe of his boot. "I kinda like it being a secret. This place...is special to me."

"Then why...." The words get caught in your throat. You swallow and try again. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I wanted to show you the things I find most beautiful. Remember?"

"The sunflowers?"

"Well yeah..." He scratches the back of his neck. Swallows thickly, like he's preparing himself. "But I was thinking of something a little different..."

You close your eyes, a smile appearing on your lips as you let the crisp breeze caress your face. "Then what?"

There's a sharp click of a shutter, and when your lashes flutter open in surprise, Jungkook is shaking a Polaroid picture back and forth, his eyes glinting with something mischievous.

"Hey! Give me that—" You reach for the Polaroid, stomach churning with a sudden shyness that makes you hug your arms.

"Just — don't do that okay?" He holds it out of reach, pleading with his eyes. "Please."

"Do what?"

"Give up on what makes you happy just because you're scared." His palm cups your cheek. "You said it yourself. Being in front of the camera is where you belong. Don't you see that?"

"I'm not scared." You feel the heat rise in your cheeks when Jungkook sends you a knowing look. "Okay maybe I am scared. And so what if I am? You've already given me the face your fears spiel and I told you. I'm perfectly happy avoiding every camera known to man for the rest of my life if it means I never have to face them."

"But you've already faced one of your fears today. You got in my car, remember?" He raises an eyebrow, smug. "Well, two technically, 'cause you're here with me now and I know how nervous you used to get around me--"

"Did not!"

"Do too! Every time we talk outside of work you get all shy and--"

"Shut up."

"See! You're doing it right now!"

You don't know what compels you to do it. Maybe it's the heat rising in the apples of your cheeks or the way your heart quickens when Jungkook closes the gap between you, but before you can stop yourself you're reaching up and grasping his face with both hands.

"Oh just shut up and kiss me, doofus."

The smug smirk on Jungkook's face is replaced with wide eyed surprise, his lips falling still for a moment when yours crash against his. But then his steady hands find your waist and he supports you on your tip toes so he can pull you ever closer, melting into the plush press of your lips.

When you pull back, you're smiling. You can't help it. You've been dreaming of this moment since, like, middle school. And goddamn, he even tastes how you imagined. Like black coffee and toothpaste.

"See." He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Happiness suits you."

"Whatever, Jeon." You smirk. "Don't let it go to your head, but it's thanks to you."

Jungkook flashes you the biggest bunny grin you've ever seen, eyes sparkling at your words.

"Wait...stay like that." He reaches for his camcorder in his backpack and points the lens at you. The smile falls from your lips. You place a hand on his arm, grip tighter than you intended.

"Jungkook stop."

"What's wrong? Just keep smiling like that, the shot was perfect—"

"I don't know what to do." You shrug, the lens boring into you like a judgy aunt at Thanksgiving dinner. "The camera makes me nervous."

"Just pretend I'm not here."

You sniff. "I don't want you to not be here..."

"Listen," Jungkook cups your face, thumbs tracing your cheeks fondly. "The reason I brought you here? It's because this place reminds me of you. Beautiful."

"Jungkook--"

"Just like you said, the world needs to see this place. Just like they need to see you."

"I..." Your heart is on the verge of exploding, you would swear it. "Okay." The word rolls off your tongue before you can stop it because somehow you trust him. And deep down, there's still that fizz of excitement mixing in with all the nervousness. The Jungkook Effect. You don't want to lose it to the darkness like everything else.

"I'll try. Just-- don't laugh at me okay?"

"You have my word, sarge." He salutes with a thoughtful grin. "Hold on a sec. I know exactly what you need to get you going."

Jungkook jumps to his feet and you watch with your chin tucked between your knees as he jogs down the rocky path and opens all four of the truck doors, even the trunk, before his head disappears into the vehicle and the same pumping bass from earlier starts blasting into the quiet serene of the sunflower field.

"There," He grins as he returns, out of breath, and sits back down beside you cross legged, holding his camcorder to his eye. "Now do what you were doing before again, but over there. Just pretend you're on stage at the Crestmont, okay?"

You feel the music wash over you and the urge to move hits you like a wave. Jungkook nods encouragingly and there's something in his eyes that flips a switch inside you. And for the first time in a long time, all the passion and spirit and feeling inside you fizzes up to the top and you can't contain it any longer.

"That's it!" Jungkook calls, shutter clicking uncontrollably. "I knew you could do it!"

An oak tree provides sun-flecked shade, a cool sanctuary from the sun that sets on the horizon and splashes the sky's canvas magenta.

Jungkook laid out a checkered blanket from the trunk of his truck which you both lay upon, shoulders pressed together as close as humanly possible, surrounded by your devoured picnic consisting of his mom's fruit punch and bags of snacks he took from the concession stand at the Crestmont when nobody was looking.

"Holy shit, Y/N." He says through a mouthful of popcorn, jabbing his finger at his favourite shot of you in front of the sunflowers. "This is what I've been saying! You're a natural in front of the camera."

"No, you're amazing, Jungkook." You feel for his hand. It's funny how natural it feels already when his pinky links with yours. "Behind the camera."

"You think?" He chews his lip, eyes searching yours for approval.

"I know. You should do something with these. People need to see them."

"I'm thinking of becoming a filmographer, actually"

"Like at the pier?" You think of the tacky photo booth that overlooks the sea in town, fit with all the silly cardboard cut outs that tourists come and take a photo with for a dollar.

"No, I mean a real filmographer." He shrugs, and you're sure there's a trace of a blush on his cheeks. "Y'know. Movies and stuff."

You nod. It makes sense for Jungkook to spend his life with a camera glued to his right hand. You can't imagine Jungkook anywhere else, and you have to ignore the sinking feeling that comes with the realisation that he would eventually leave Ocean City -- and you -- behind for the big screen.

"Well you bet your ass I'll be front row to watch each and every one, Jeon Jungkook."

"My lucky star." Jungkook smiles.

"Always."

He must see the sadness brimming inside you, his body shuffling closer so your knees brush. It's reassuring somewhat.

"Actually...there's something I should tell you."

He shifts under your gaze. The nerves rush back. "What is it?"

"I guess I finished writing my first screenplay..."

"That's like a movie script, right?" You ask eagerly, and he nods. "That's great, Kook!"

"Yeah, it's great it's just --" He pauses, and clutches your hand tighter like he's scared what he says next will make you let go forever. "It's about you."

You pale. "M-me?"

"I mean, it's about you and...and Taehyung! And your mom." Jungkook rushes. "I was inspired by your story at the boardwalk and it just happened! I'm sorry, I know you probably hate me now and think I'm crazy but--"

"Burn it." You deadpan.

Jungkook blinks. "W..what?"

"I said burn it." You pull his hand into your lap and he lets out a sigh of relief. "I don't hate you, Kook. I just think you were right earlier when you said I need to face my fears. And the only way I can do that is by forgetting my past. The last thing I need is a whole freaking movie about it."

He joins in with your strained chuckles. "Sure you aren't mad?"

"Not mad." You assure with a smile.

"Then I'll burn it."

You avoid his gaze shyly. "I'm kinda honoured you wrote about me, though." You admit.

"I guess...I guess I could call you my muse." Jungkook blurts hurriedly. His nose is a deep shade of pink and it makes you want to tease him forever.

"Yeah." You nod to yourself with a smile. "I like that. Your muse."

And then his lips are on yours again, like he can't quite help himself, and you start to forget where yours begin and his end.

This time it's not delicate and sweet. It's slow and languid, hot and heavy. The sunflowers break your fall, Jungkook's lips never leaving yours as he climbs on top of you, one hand tangled in your hair, the other planted beside your head so that his chest hovers above yours. You're almost certain he can feel how hard your heart is pounding in your chest, but you don't care, too lost in the bliss of finally feeling Jungkook's plush lips against your own.

"Come to New York with me." He says breathlessly between kisses, and your heart stops.

"What?" You can hardly drag your lips away from his but you have to be sure you heard him right. New York?

"I mean, in the future. I'm gonna go to New York. Get a job at a film production company or something, I don't know--" He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. "Come with me."

"I...I can't."

"Why?" He frowns. "Is it me?"

"No! God no."

"Then why? You said it was your dream right?" You nod. "So what's stopping you?"

"I..I have to take care of Taehyung, and my job at the Crestmont and--"

"Okay. Lets pretend none of that exists. It's just you and me." His breath ghosts against your forehead. "Y/N, will you come to New York with me?"

"Yes." It comes out breathless, but you mean it. With every atom and nerve and fiber in your body. "Lets go to New York."

Where things change.

3 years later.

A postcard sits on the Welcome Home! Doormat you and Jungkook bought before you left for New York. You recognise the picture perfect image of Ocean City on the front, and Taehyung's messy scrawl on the back that tells you he's doing fine at his new management job at the Crestmont and he will be sending a housewarming gift imminently.

— Stay smiling, Y/N. Miss you already! Taehyung. :)

With a small smile you tack it onto the bare fridge. It brightens up the empty kitchen somewhat, a little piece of home and a reminder that you don't need to worry about leaving your brother behind to fend for himself so much any more. Since he pulled his life together and got a job at the theatre, it's like he came alive again. Found his purpose.

Speaking of purposes, you suppose that's how you found yourself here. In your very own apartment in a nice complex on the east side. The east side of New York City.

There's a pair of satin curtains hung over the balcony doors, probably left behind by the old tenant as it's the only form of furniture in the whole apartment. They rustle in the morning breeze and you tiptoe across the room barefoot to rip them open, letting your eyes flutter shut when the early morning sun filters through the glass and cascades over your face like a warm embrace.

You press a hand to the glass, studying your reflection; the messy lump of hair atop your head, the soft shadow of your lashes atop your cheeks. And beyond it, New York. Your new normal in all it's familiar glory from your dreams, yet still so deliciously foreign it makes your heart leap whenever a cab horn rings out in the distance or you breathe in the smell of fresh bagels from the shop down the street.

Home. You could finally call it that now. But New York is just a city and this apartment is just a house. The real reason you get to call this place home is because of who you came here with.

Jungkook.

You've been dating for two and a half years by now. He let you borrow one of his old much-too-big t-shirts to sleep in last night. There's a hole in the shoulder and the hem brushes your knees but it's warm and smells like his cologne and your heart expands when you close your eyes and remember this is just the beginning. You have so much to do, so many things to see here in New York. So many things to learn. And there's nobody you would want to explore life with more than Jungkook.

His camera equipment lays in a cardboard box by your feet, and something compels you to take out the old-school camcorder he loves. The leather strap tightens perfectly around your hand and the red RECORD button flashes as you open the doors wide and lift the lens to take in the view. Something tells you you're gonna want to remember this moment forever.

It's not long before a pair of arms wrap around your waist, chin tucked cheekily into your shoulder. "There you are." Jungkook husks, stilly groggy with sleep as his lips ghost across your cheek.

Turning around in his grasp, you find him still shirtless, sweatpants slung low around his hips. He's been working out recently, and you can't deny you don't love how firm his shoulders feel when you brace yourself on them to stand on your tip toes and leave a peck to his lips.

"Morning sleepyhead," you say, running your fingers through the strands of his silky bed hair. It's longer these days, whispering across the nape of his neck and falling across his round eyes sweetly. They flutter closed when you massage his scalp just how he likes it. "I was wondering when you'd finally get out of bed."

"Missed you." His lips turn up when he sees the camera pointed at his face. "Whaddya doing with that?"

"Making memories." You say simply, zooming in on him as he rubs his sleepy eyes. "So we never forget this."

A cheeky smirk appears on his lips as he wraps you in his arms, a surprised giggle leaving you when he spins you around and grabs the camera so he can point it at the both of you, his chin resting on your shoulder now as his bare arm snugly wraps around your waist.

"Hey stop! I just woke up, I look bad!"

"Hello us of the future," Jungkook chuckles, pulling your fingers away from your face when you bury your face in his chest to hide from the lens. "It's our first day in New York and Y/N is being all camera shy--okay, okay fine, lets show them the view instead!"

Jungkook finally flips the lens around so it focuses on the distant silhouettes of tall skyscrapers skimming the blue skyline, before he turns it back onto you guys once more with a mischievous look this time.

"But we have to go now because we have far more interesting business to attend to..." He lowers the camera as his lips start to trail up your collar bone and he smiles when your eyes flutter shut and you gasp at the feeling, but it's quickly replaced by a pout when you wriggle out of his embrace with a stern look.

"Not now. Later."

"Mmf? Why?" He whines, making grabby hands towards you. "You're so warm, jus' wanna cuddle for a bit."

"No time!" You call over your shoulder as you grab him by the hand and drag his heavy feet behind you. "We've got an apartment to decorate."

Before you know it you've enlisted Jungkook's help in laying tarps across the living room floor, two pots of bright white paint plonked in the center. It's not like you could afford a decorator after all. You are two broke twenty-something's trying to make it big in New York, and all that cliche stuff. So you would just have to do it yourselves.

Jungkook's over in the corner, miming along to the guitar solo from some rock song playing from the radio balanced on the windowsill, the paint roller his instrument as he dances around the room with giddy impulse. There's paint all over his butt where he accidentally leaned against one of the wet walls and he's got his hair tied back into a bun at the crown of his head and you watch him out of the corner of your eye while an affectionate smile creeps onto your face no matter how hard you try to curb it.

That's when you notice the camera in his other hand. He zooms in on the stepladder in the corner, the paint spillage in the hall, the heart with Y/N + JUNGKOOK FOREVER written inside it on the back wall. Documenting everything as usual.

He was always filming you, too. Whether you were making coffee in the morning or drying your hair. He'd even slow down beside you on the sidewalk to get the perfect shot.

You find it cute, even though you pretend to hate it. It makes your heart flutter every time you catch him rewinding the footage with a contented smile on his face, like he just captured the whole world with his lens.

It's no surprise when you finish putting the final coat on the wall and step back to admire your handy work that you find him wandering around the apartment with his hand curved around the lens of one of his bigger cameras like it's natural to him. You always joke that thing is like an extra limb, but he looks so calm as he looks through his lens at the room that is now drunk on the afternoon sun pouring through the window, the golden rays like honey on his skin, that it's easy to see that the camera really is a part of him. Passion lies in the soft lines of concentration on his face, in the plump lip tugged between teeth as he fiddles with the settings.

Jungkook sees beauty where others don't, where others can't. It might as well pump through his veins. And it's one of the reasons you love him so much.

You shake your head when you see how a small smile finds his lips when he leans a shoulder against the door frame and lets the camera land on the thing he swears is most beautiful.

"Hey." You warn, shooting a side wards glare at the camera lens you spot Jungkook not so discreetly pointing in your direction. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" He runs a hand through his hair, lips pulling back into a sly bunny smile when you bend down to reach a spot you missed at the bottom of the wall. "I'm not doing anything."

Your upper lip twitches. "Are you zooming in on my ass?"

"What? No!" Jungkook scrunches his nose with wide eyes, a habit you knew meant he was guilty, a pout forming on your lips as he snaps the viewfinder closed and shoves the offending piece of his equipment behind his back.

You narrow your eyes affectionately. "Perv."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He blows a strand of hair out of his face innocently but there's a playful glint in his eyes and you can hardly keep a serious face as you plant your hands on your hips in what you hope is a menacing manner.

"Then lemme see it." You challenge with a nod to the camera behind him.

He feigns indifference, cocking his head to the side like an overgrown puppy. "See what?"

"That's it!" You shake your head, charging towards and him making grabby motions towards the camera. Jungkook looks down at you fondly as he holds it above your head, out of reach, and it only makes you you pout harder. "Hey! Give it!

"Never!" You jump pitifully, fingers grasping around nothing. A melodic chuckle spills from Jungkook's lips when you cross your arms over your chest in defeat and blink up at him crossly. "You have to say the magic word first."

You scoff at the teasing look on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows and waves the camera just above your head, before an idea strikes you and within seconds you're wielding a paintbrush, Jungkook's eyes widening when you point the paint coated bristles at his face.

"Give it up." You hold out your palm with a smug look. "Or the walls are not the only thing getting a fresh coat."

"You wouldn't." He smirks, despite being backed into a corner now.

"Oh yeah?" Without further ado you swipe the brush down the bridge of his nose, swallowing a giggle at the white smudge it leaves behind and his shocked expression beneath it. "You underestimate me, Jeon."

Jungkook pushes his tongue into his cheek, eyes dancing up and down your body before they lock with yours daringly. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Or what?" You taunt playfully, a laugh escaping you, but you quickly bite down on your lip when you see the glint in Jungkook's eyes as he submerges both his hands into the nearby bucket of paint.

You don't run when he steps closer. Instead your breathing quickens, heart doing a funny somersault when he brushes your hair to the side and clamps both of his wet hands on the sides of your jaw to bring your face up to his.

He tastes like coffee and desire when your lips crash together in a delicious tangle of teeth and tongue, all the thoughts racing through your mind dripping away like honey until all that's left is the thump of your heart against your chest and Jungkook's warmth as he backs you up against the wall.

When he pulls away he rubs his paint covered nose against yours, cocking his head and smiling sweetly when he leans back and admires his handy work.

"You have paint on your face." He looks down at his white hands innocently with a shrug. "Whoops?"

His hands trail down to your hips. You reach to your side and grab a fistful of paint, wiping it down the centre of his face and giggling when he groans and scrunches his eyes closed . "So do you."

"Okay, that's it. This means war!" Jungkook growls, strong arms wrapping around your waist, and before you know it you're stumbling over to the mattress in the corner, Jungkook's body hovering over yours.

"You wanna play dirty, huh?" Desire-filled eyes trace your face, travelling down the expanse of your neck before zeroing in on your collar bones. You gasp when Jungkook's lips attach themselves to the sensitive skin, every inch of you set alight when his burning fingers slide beneath the hem of your tshirt and find your thighs. "Always being such a bad girl, huh?"

"So? What're you gonna do about it? Punish me?" You say teasingly, and he stiffens, lips leaving a mark behind on your neck with a pop. Jungkook's narrowed eyes meet yours and you feel your heart speed up with anticipation.

His lips twitch, like they're dying to turn up. "Brat."

With that, you're being flipped over onto your knees with a yelp. Jungkook's hands work quickly and before you know it your tshirt is over your head and the sudden breeze from the open balcony doors against your hardened nipples makes you gasp.

"You love it." You laugh breathily.

"Too much," Jungkook confirms, before his large palm presses you down into the bed firmly between the shoulder blades so that your ass is thrust up in the air. You wiggle is teasingly, though the breath catches in your throat when the first spank lands on your bare skin. Then a second, the sound ringing out through the empty room like an echo and making a damp spot appear on your panties.

"Hey!" You chastise when you remember the paint on his hands that just left two glaring handprints right across your ass.

Jungkook just smirks. "What? Now everyone knows it's mine."

A third slap and you have to bite the blanket to stop from groaning, then a fourth, and a fifth and by then your eyes are watering but in the best way. Calloused hands smooth over the burning area, soothing it.

"Good girl," A raspy voice whispers next to your ear. "Such a good girl for me, taking your punishment. I think you deserve your reward now, hm?"

"Please." You moan as he reaches around to grasp your breast, tweaking your nipples in a way that has you writhing beneath him.

"Don't say I didn't warn you though," Jungkook chuckles as he rips your panties down your legs, gasping at the sight of your dripping slit like it's the first time. He runs a finger down your folds, biting back a groan when it makes your legs fall open a little further, desperate for his touch. "I'm not gonna go easy on you."

"Jungkook, what do you-- oh!." Before you can finish, Jungkook is pushing your face back into the comforter, spreading your cheeks with his palms and licking an agonizingly slow stripe up your throbbing core. His tongue finds your clit easily, toying it with the tip playfully until you're gasping for air.

"Mmf, tastes so good." He murmurs against your folds, the vibrations of his chuckle making you moan so hard your legs start to shake. His tongue finds your hole, swirling around teasingly before it slips inside and you can't handle it anymore.

"Jungkook!" You gasp, reaching behind to grab his hair. "I..I can't-"

"You can." He says, almost a command, mouth leaving your pussy only so he can slide over onto his back and pull you back down onto his face by the hips.

"Oh g-god!" Your hand reaches for the headboard, landing on the wall to steady yourself when you remember you still haven't bought a bed frame yet. Your legs are starting to ache from holding yourself up but you don't care, too lost in the feeling of Jungkook's tongue lapping at your swollen folds as you grind in lazy circles on his face.

"C-close, Kook." You manage to splutter, head thrown back with pleasure when he slides two of his fingers inside you and starts to pump in time with his tongue, the sensation of being filled enough to send you over the edge into a shuddering climax that is unlike anything you've felt before, the only thought on your mind the way your hole clenches around your boyfriend's fingers.

It takes a few moments for your legs to stop shaking, your hearing slowly coming back into focus as you hear both of your heavy breaths intermingled. You look between your legs to find Jungkook staring up at you with a grin, eyes filled with wonder. His chin gleams with your juices, the front of his t-shirt damp as you realise with a gasp what just happened.

"Did I--?"

"Yup."

"Holy fuck." You swing your leg over his shoulder so you're beside him, Jungkook sitting up to look at you, still mesmerised. "I...I'm sorry, that was--"

"The hottest thing you've ever done." Jungkook finishes, grinning at you like he just won the lottery.

You raise a brow, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Can I fuck you now?"

You can't help but laugh at his eager puppy dog eyes, hands practically twitching at his sides to touch you. A quick glance at his crotch confirms the biggest tent in his pants you've ever seen, and you crook a finger towards him with a sultry smile and a nod.

"Let's see if you can make me do that again."

"O-Okay!" Jungkook pulls his shirt over his head eagerly, and then he's on top of you, burning skin meeting burning skin. Your palm runs down his chest, Jungkook's eyes falling shut when it reaches the hem of his sweatpants. You cant help but gasp when your fingers wrap around his length through his boxers, core already throbbing again to be filled. He shivers when your finger circles his tip, admiring the wet patch on his boxers.

"Eager?" You smirk.

"You squirted on my face, Y/N, of course I'm goddamn eager."

"Get these off then." You tug at his pants and he kicks them off without a second telling.

"Your wish is my command."

When he returns to hovering over you, both completely bare now, he pauses. His eyes meet yours, a gentle smile appearing on his lips as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear and grips your jaw protectively.

"I love you, y'know."

You close the distance between you, pressing your lips against his but barely able to keep yourself from grinning with the elation swirling in your chest. "I love you too, doofus. Now hurry up or I'm gonna have to fuck myself."

"That sounds kinda awesome--"

"Kook!"

"Okay, okay, on it!"

Palms spread your legs, and you both gasp when Jungkook runs the blunt head of his leaking cock up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices before he lines it up with your entrance.

"Ready?" He checks, thumb tracing circles into your inner thigh.

"As I'll ever be."

And with that, he pushes inside, his head falling into the crook of your neck with a sigh of relief at finally feeling your walls clenching around his throbbing length. The stretch of his girth stings, but it makes you feel so deliciously full, so perfectly whole to be connected to Jungkook like this that all you can get out is another soft I love you that earns a blissful smile from your boyfriend as he starts to move.

Each stroke makes you lose your breath, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot just right. It's when Jungkook takes your nipple into his mouth that you feel a second orgasm start to build, one hand gripping the sheets as the other drags scratch marks down his muscular back in blissful agony.

It's not long before Jungkook spills inside you with a deep growl, your own high hitting you as you feel him coat your walls. He collapses onto your chest, breaths deep and exhausted, and wraps you in his arms before you can even catch your breath.

Jungkook pulls the sheets up over your shoulders and places a kiss to the top of your head. He's so warm you feel yourself start to drift off into a blissful sleep, the smile on your lips never faltering.

"I love you too." Is the last thing you hear him say before sleep takes you under, and you're safe wrapped up in each other's arms.

When you open your eyes, the room is warm with sunset's rose tinted blush, and Jungkook's body is no longer beside you. Rubbing your bleary eyes, you sit up on your elbow and find him on the ground in front of the freshly painted wall, intricate petals and stems flowing from the end of the paintbrush he delicately waves across the surface to paint the prettiest sunflower you've ever seen.

"I'm home!" You hear your boyfriend yell out as he shuffles into the apartment, quickly followed by a yelp. "Hey, Gureum, stop trying to lick my face!"

You can't stop the smile that spreads across your features when a ball of white fluff comes bounding into the living room, the puppy that excitedly jumps into your arms tracking a trail of muddy paw prints over the script in your hands.

"Hey Gureum," You coo, scratching him behind the ears where you know his sweet spot is. "You're such a good boy, huh?"

"Don't praise him! He totally ran away from me in Central Park and I had to chase him all the way home!" You can practically hear Jungkook's eye roll, shaking your head fondly at the mock annoyance in his voice. It was Jungkook who begged you to adopt a puppy for months in the first place, and they've been more or less inseparable ever since — the little guy hardly ever leaves his side. It's safe to say Jungkook is definitely Gureum's favourite.

The smell of coffee and fresh bagels wafts through the apartment, a warm sensation settling in your stomach as your boyfriend rounds the corner and waves a brown paper bag.

"Still got us enough coffee to stay up all night learning lines though." Jungkook grins, dumping the contents onto the coffee table and raising his eyebrows when your hands dart straight for the chocolate cookies. "Speaking of learning lines, how is it going, pretty?"

He nods towards the script in your hand. It's worn at the edges and ferociously dog eared from all the nights you have stayed up until sunrise reciting the words littered across the pages over and over, until it's like your lips are moving by muscle memory and the words are a part of you.

After what felt like hundreds of failed auditions, you had started to lose hope. With every letter that landed on the porch with another SORRY or MAYBE NEXT TIME, you felt all the confidence in the dream you worked so hard to uncover start to dwindle.

But Jungkook was always there, by your side no matter what. Encouraging you when you forgot your lines or holding you when you didn't get the callback. Reminding you to eat whenever you were too absorbed in your work to cook or cheering you on from the crowd at your weekly improv performances.

It was Jungkook who cried with you when the director of the small theatre downtown called and gave you the lead part in his upcoming stage production. Your big break. And you were determined to make sure everything ran smoothly at opening night tomorrow, which is how you find yourself snuggled up on the couch rewinding your VHS copy of Dirty Dancing over and over again until you have every word memorised by heart.

"Pretty good." You say as you pop a salted peanut into your mouth while Jungkook slips out of his tweed jacket. He's been trying to dress more New-York-ish these days, or so he says. More dress pants and less sweats. "Final rehearsals start at five."

"Aren't you nervous?" Jungkook squishes into the space beside you, Gureum cuddling up between your bodies.

Tomorrow night's show is sold out, along with every night after that for the next week. You heard there were going to be at least 700 people there each night.

"Terribly." You admit, stomach churning at the thought of 700 pairs of eyes staring right at you. You try to focus on the fizzing excitement that lingers there too, growing stronger and stronger. "But I think I'm more excited".

"I'm excited to see you up there doing what you love." Jungkook smiles, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "My star."

"Well don't get too excited because I still keep messing up this one goddamn scene," You flip the script to a page covered in bright highlighter scribbles and run your fingers through your hair exasperatedly. "I'm totally gonna mess it up and then I'll never get another job and—"

"Shhh," Jungkook takes the script from your hands and runs his eyes over it quickly. "Don't talk like that. You're gonna be amazing — hold up..." He raises an eyebrow. "Is this...the kiss scene?"

You feel your cheeks redden, voice small. "Yes."

"Then you're in luck because who better to help you practice than the best kisser in all of New York?"

You snort. "Wow, I sure could use some of your expertise Good-Sir-Makes-Out-A-Lot."

"Then you're in the right place..." He runs his finger over the script, jabbing at one line in particular.

[Johnny and Baby kiss.]

"Let's start here, hm? For practice, obviously."

"For practice." Your eyes roll but your heart still beats a little faster as he closes the space between you, hand pressing into the wall so his sturdy body hovers over yours, hands instinctively pulling him closer by the collar.

"Come give me a kiss, m'lady..." Jungkook murmurs, but before he can tilt your chin up towards his lips there's a sudden series of frantic knocks at the front door.

"What the heck?"

You both jump out of your skin, Jungkook's eyes narrowing as he glances over his shoulder at the shadowy figure outside, fist pounding the glass fervently, like they're trying to break it down.

"Okay, damn, I'm coming!" He yells with a roll of his eyes. He wraps the blanket around your shoulders as he hops up from the couch with a sigh. "Probably just some dumb marketer again or something — dude, chill! I said I'm coming! — be right back."

The lock slides open and you hear Jungkook gasp. Your stomach drops. "Who is it?"

"Uh, Y/N..." You hear the door click shut and the sound of squeaky shoes shuffling inside. The anxiety in Jungkook's voice makes your heart skip. "You might wanna come see this."

"Huh?" Your legs feel shaky as you follow him out into the hall, chest seizing when you lay eyes on the dripping wet hair and chattering teeth of the shivering man stood before you, eyes dark and grave like they used to be.

"Taehyung?" You splutter, ripping the blanket from around your shoulders and swaddling him in it as quickly as you can, Jungkook already bounding into the other room to get dry clothes and towels after shooting you a terrified glance.

Taehyung grabs your shoulders and pulls you into a tight embrace. His cheeks are wet against your shoulder, but you can't tell if it's because he's been crying or because he's been out in the freezing cold rain — hold on, did he walk here?

"Y/N," He murmurs frantically, eyes darting back and forth but never quite focusing on anything. You knew this look. This is how he looked that day you found out about the accident. Murky, far far away. Devastatingly sad. Something wasn't right.

"What is it?" You ask, pulling him into the living room and sitting him on the couch before his shaking knees buckle beneath him. "What are you doing here, Tae?"

"It's...it's the Crestmont." He whispers.

"What about the Crestmont?" Jungkook appears behind Taehyung, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, but it's like your brother doesn't even feel it.

"They're tearing it down." He mumbles. "They're tearing down the Crestmont. Forever."

"Okay, now let's start from the beginning."

Jungkook's calm voice lilts from beside Taehyung who, after a warm shower and two cups of cocoa, has stopped shivering and seems to be ready to talk.

A hand reaches across the coffee table to tug on your wrist mid-lift to your mouth, a reminder from Jungkook to stop biting your nails. An old nervous habit you thought you'd left behind in Ocean City but apparently more than just Taehyung showed up here unannounced tonight.

"I...I got a call this morning." Taehyung begins, pausing to take a sip from the mug he cradles in his lap. His hands are shaking so he places it on the coffee table for safe keeping, right beside your discarded script. "It was from a construction company."

"And?" You prod, somewhat impatiently, making Taehyung jump.

"And apparently the owner of the theatre is behind on rent and...and..." He swallows hard. "And they're buying the rights to tear it down and build an apartment complex in its place."

"What?" Both you and Jungkook exclaim at the same time.

Jungkook's fists clench. "I always knew that old man was shady."

Taehyung fumbles in the pocket of the coat he arrived with, retrieving a brochure which he thrusts towards you.

The image on the front is of a metal skyscraper, far too shiny and new to belong in a seaside town like Ocean City. Fusion Apartments — modern living.

Jungkook rakes a hand through his hair, eyes sorrowful as you pass it over to him. "This sucks. Big time." He murmurs. "The Crestmont is the heart of Ocean City. How can they just bulldoze it like it means nothing?"

"That's why..." Taehyung swallows. "That's why I came here. I thought maybe you guys could help me, and we could do something before they—"

"We?" You furrow your brows. "You want us to help stop them from tearing down the Crestmont?"

"I mean yeah, I guess? I figured you guys would understand how important it is—"

You bite your lip. Taehyung flinches when you place a hand on his knee. "Tae. It seems like they've already got it figured out I mean...what can we do about it? The Crestmont has had a long run and maybe it's time for something new in Ocean City..."

"Y/N?" Jungkook warns, but there's a betrayal in his voice. How could you say that? It pains you, but you continue anyway. "What are you saying?"

"I just...I think it's time to let the Crestmont go."

Taehyung stands up so abruptly his mug smashes onto the marble tile.

"How could you?" He roars, but his bottom lip trembles. "The Crestmont is mom's place! It's all we have left of her in that fucking town and you want to just let them burn it to the ground?"

You tut, kneeling to pick up the broken pieces of china with a sharp glance at your brother. "For goodness sake, Taehyung. Mom isn't there anymore. She never was. She was always running off with some roadies and leaving us behind because she thought she was something special."

Taehyung scoffs. "What? Just like you?" He grabs the cocoa sodden script, crumpling it up in his shaking fist. "You are exactly the same as her. Running off to New York and leaving me behind to get your big break."

Jungkook steps forward warily. "Taehyung, you don't mean that—"

"Yes I do! If Y/N had just gotten in the car that day she wouldn't have died. It was all her fault. And now she's just gonna let them take what we have left of her."

"What?" Jungkook blinks.

Your stomach sinks. Is that really what Taehyung thinks? You wouldn't blame him. Deep down, his words strike a nerve. Because you know they're true.

Taehyung's eyes are hazy, unfocused. You reach for him dizzily, but he backs away into the hall.

"I shouldn't have come here." Taehyung whispers. He looks between you and Jungkook one last time before he's grabbing his coat and running down the steps to the first floor.

"Taehyung, wait!" You hear Jungkook's footsteps follow him out into the stairwell, but you're trapped on the ground, heaving for air.

Your hands shake as you pull yourself up to the window pane and watch Taehyung disappear into the gloom of the city, the sorrowful raindrops that lash against the glass mirroring the ones on your cheeks.

YOU: Taehyung??? YOU: [CALL IGNORED] YOU: please Tae YOU: can we at least talk about this? YOU: we're worried about you

It's been nearly 12 hours since you watched Taehyung disappear among the hustle and bustle of New York from your apartment window.

You and Jungkook were out all night searching for him. By the time you gave up the sun was rising and the birds were chirping and Jungkook somehow convinced your shivering form to return home to rest with a Taehyung shaped hole in your heart.

"It'll be okay. He'll be okay. He always is."

A phone call to your dad revealed he hadn't returned home that night; so where did he go exactly?

The weight of that question sits heavy in your chest as you sit backstage at the theatre, staring into your own vacant eyes in the dressing room mirror.

It's opening night. The show is due to start in fifteen minutes. Your lips are painted a deep shade of red, hair backcombed to perfection by one of the makeup artists. Beneath the harsh lights of the exposed bulbs that line the mirror, you look almost unrecognisable.

Confident, strong, successful.

Anyone would say your dreams had come true, or something sappy to that effect. But even as you sit among the hustle and bustle of the costume team and breathe in the fragrance of perfume and powder blush, you couldn't feel further away from the New York version of yourself if you tried.

Staring back at you is a reflection of the shy, terrified girl from Ocean City you worked so hard to forget. Yet here she is, mind whirring with worries for her brother instead of the lines she should be rehearsing to death before curtain call.

This should be your big moment. One which you will remember forever. But all you want to do right now is hold Taehyung close like you used to and tell him you're sorry and that you won't leave him again.

"Y/N!" You're snapped out of your thoughts by a familiar hand on your shoulder. You cover it with your own, instantly eased somewhat when you glance up and lock eyes with Jungkook in the mirror.

"Y/N, I found him."

"What?!" You jump to your feet, chair scraping obscenely. It draws the eyes of the people around you who quickly register Jungkook's polite smile as their cue to shuffle out of the dressing room and leave you two to talk. "Where is he? I need to talk to him—"

"He's not coming."

"What?"

Jungkook sinks into the chair beside you, forehead creased. He runs a hand through his hair and momentarily you catch a glimpse of the old Jungkook. The Jungkook that always took care of his best friend Taehyung.

"I...I gave him a ticket for the show tonight and told him to come. To see how much this really means to you...but—"

Your finger nails press half moons into your palms. "But what, Kook?"

"He was already leaving for Ocean City."

A sob wracks your frame. "Do you think he hates me?"

Jungkook's arms engulf you before the first tear can roll down your cheek, his chin tucking perfectly into the cleft of your shoulder. "Of course not, he's just...he's hurting right now."

"I can't lose him — not like this, Kook..."

"Shh. It'll all be okay."

You jump back and start to pace. "But it's not okay! What he said last night is true!"

Jungkook sucks in a breath. "What?"

Your knees buckle and you crumple. You can hardly breathe, shame washing over you as you admit the truth for the first time.

"I caused the accident! I'm the reason my mom's...she's..."

Jungkook wraps his arm around your shoulder, voice soothing. "What are you talking about?"

"The night of the accident she got a call from some big buck director. She was cast in this huge movie. Her big break." You're speaking to fast, but Jungkook nods to tell you he's listening.

"So she told Taehyung and I we were leaving for New York that night. And we were packing our bags before my dad got home and...and I said I wasn't coming. I didn't wanna leave Ocean City behind."

"I kicked and cried and said I didn't want to go, so her and Taehyung took off by themselves and that's when they got into the crash. She was upset and going too fast. It was all because of me." You start to sob. You've never admitted this to anyone before. Not even yourself. It tears your heart in two to say it out loud. "I'm the reason Taehyung's broken."

"You can't think like that." Jungkook clasps your face in his hands, thumb wiping away a stray tear. He looks scared, but his voice stays calm and convincing. "What happened was an accident. You were a kid. None of this is your fault."

"That's why Taehyung must hate me so much." You choke. "I'm doing what mom always wanted to, but she never had the chance because of me."

"Y/N?" A crew member steps into the room awkwardly with a cough. "I'm sorry to interrupt but the show is about to start. The audience is getting restless."

"Go. I'll take care of Taehyung, okay?" Jungkook pulls you to your feet, engulfing you in a final hug before he pushes you towards the stage entrance at the small of your back. "You're needed out there. Show them what you're made of."

Your eyes widen. This can't be happening. Not now.

"I...I can't."

"You can." Jungkook grabs your face and captures your lips, hard. It tastes salty with tears. "You're my star remember?"

"I love you." You whisper when you pull back, fingers reaching for him weakly as a costume designer hurries you towards the door.

"I love you too." Jungkook calls. His smile is the last thing you see before the door slams shut and there's no going back. "Now go break a leg, pretty!"

Particles of dust float in and out of your vision beneath the blinding stage lights.

Everything feels different from side stage. Your heart races as you press your ear to the velvet curtain separating you from the world, listening to the hubbub of laughing children and chattering adults filtering into the theatre. You imagine them taking their seats, buying icecream from the vendors, alive with anticipation.

The lights dim. You hear the director behind you, shouting something about places please! but it's like you're underwater, limbs weighted as you move like a ghost to your position for the opening number.

Your palms are clammy and you wipe them on your dress.

Show starting in 5...

Your legs turn to jelly. You close your eyes and try to calm your racing thoughts.

4...

Taehyung. Is he okay? Why didn't he come tonight?

3...

Shit! What was your opening line again? Goddamnit, Y/N, think!

2...

Mom. Would she be proud?

1...

You open your eyes.

The curtain is gone, and a pair of hands pushes you out into the harsh white spotlight. You shield your eyes with your fingers, heart dropping when you look up and find hundreds of eyes staring. Staring right at you.

It's like you're on the edge of a cliff, about to dive into the cool water below. Or fall.

Everything starts to blur. You're a teenager again, stood on the stage at the Crestmont. Panic rises like bile in your throat, and you don't know whether to scream or to run.

Run. Run. Run.

Your mouth opens, then closes. There's an awkward cough from the audience. Words run your mind in circles, but none of them are right, and before they can reach your lips they evaporate on your tongue.

Your panicked eyes roam the sea of seats that zoom in and out of focus. Your knees buckle, and you're sure you are going to pass out right here in front of everyone, but then your eyes meet a familiar pair of brown ones that makes the room stop spinning for a moment.

Jungkook. He's smiling at you, fingers crossed in his lap. There's not a trace of nerves in his gaze as he nods for you to go ahead.

I believe in you.

Just then the door to the theatre flies open and every head in the audience turns towards the darkly clothed figure shuffling through the aisles, mumbling sorry's and excuse me's until he reaches the empty seat beside your boyfriend.

He lets down his hood, shakes free a head of blonde hair that's still damp from the rain. He's out of breath, like he ran here.

Taehyung.

Your brother looks up at you, frozen in place, and his eyes soften. He flashes you a thumbs up and his lips curl around the four words you needed to hear.

You can do this.

And just like that, the panic disappears. The words come flooding back, and your body flies into action, moving across the stage

You forget all about the fear, and the anxiety, and Taehyung and the Crestmont. For now it's just you and the stage, together in harmony.

And you've never felt more alive than when you take your final bow and the crowd roars to life, just like you always imagined it would.

Your jaw hurts from smiling, and before you know it you're crying. Because when you squint against the theatre lights, you see Taehyung and Jungkook in the front row, holding each other and shouting your name.

Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!

"Hey! Be careful!"

The bouquet of congratulatory geraniums cradled in your arms gets crushed between your body and your brother's. He practically tackled you as soon as you entered the dressing room, carried on the cheering shoulders of the other cast and crew members.

"Holy shit." Taehyung holds you at arms length. His eyes are ringed red around the edges. "You were amazing, Y/N."

"You really think so?" Tears start to well and you're so happy to see him that you throw your arms around his waist. "I'm so glad you came, Tae."

"Yeah. You were just like her." He smiles. "Just like mom."

You share a small, sad smile. You've heard those words all your life but it feels different when it comes from Taehyung.

Jungkook pops his head into the room. He catches your eye over Taehyung's shoulder, and flashes you a small smile when he sees you cradling him in your arms.

Talk to him. He mouths, and you're suddenly reminded of why Taehyung came here in the first place.

"Hey listen—"

"Taehyung—"

You both start to talk, bursting into easy laughter when the other stops, seemingly hit with the same idea at the same time.

"You go first." You smile, encouragingly.

"Okay." He pulls you over to the couch. "I'm just...I'm sorry for storming out last night. I shouldn't have come here and expected you to help me—"

"No, stop. I'm sorry." You place a hand over his. "I want to help." You hold an arm out to Jungkook, who crosses the room and slides his hand into yours. "We want to help. We want to save the Crestmont."

Taehyung's eyes bulge. His voice drops to a whisper. "Really?"

"You were right. The Crestmont was mom's place."

You think about how it felt to be out there on the stage, in front of a crowd cheering your name. The excitement, the exhilaration. Your first stage.

The Crestmont is your mom's first stage. It's where she felt those same emotions for the first time. You can't let it be demolished. Not for anything.

"She deserves a legacy. We can't let them tear it down. I don't know how yet, but we'll save it."

"Thank you." A tear streaks his cheek, and his arms pull you and Jungkook into a tight bear hug.

"Thank you. For showing me what really matters, Tae." You whisper. "Let's do this together, okay?"

"For mom."

Taehyung holds out his pinky finger, and you link yours with his.

"For mom."

Where things go wrong.

Six months later.

Every second that passes is marked by a deafening tick from the kitchen clock.

Jungkook was supposed to be home 10 minutes ago. You're sat alone at the dinner table, a carefully presented meal for two spread across your mom's old polka dot table cloth. You even lit candles.

With a sigh you drop your chin into your hand, absentmindedly pushing your spaghetti around the dish while your eyes remain trained to the front door that will open any moment.

To be honest, it's been months since you and Jungkook shared a meal together. He spends most of his nights in his office, hunched over his laptop staring at the blinking cursor on some script he'll never finish. And ever since Jungkook's big script got rejected and he fell into a slump of no work, he had to get a job at a local convenience store all day for some spare cash to get you through the month.

You know he hates it. He hates the rude customers and how he can never shower the smell of grease out of his hair.

You know the bickering that turned into arguing that turned into fighting was just a result of his restless aggravation at being shot down too many times. Of watching his dream slip right through his fingers.

But you haven't exactly been as understanding as you should have been. You're overworked too, with the play, and The Crestmont, and you hate how easy it was to accept sleeping apart and missing dinner dates.

So you texted him to tell him you were making dinner tonight. A cease fire of sorts, or maybe just a feeble attempt at glueing back together the cracks that have appeared between you recently with pasta sauce and meatballs.

But he's late. Again.

And it makes you wonder whether there was any point in trying.

"Y/N?"

A gravelly voice jolts you out of your thoughts. Keys jangle onto the counter, shoes are slipped from feet and thrown into the storage cupboard with the creaky door.

"I'm in here." Your voice sounds meek, but you straighten and muster up a smile. To show at least one of you is making an effort.

Jungkook appears in the doorway, clad in his ugly traffic cone orange uniform. His shoulders are slumped, bangs limply stuck to his forehead. He looks tired, exhausted.

"What's all this?" He nods disinterestedly towards your untouched homemade buffet before heading to the sink to fix himself a glass of water.

"Dinner." You cough. He stiffens. "Remember?"

"Oh." He scratches the back of his neck. His eyes flash with something close to guilt momentarily, but then he smoothes it out. "Yeah. Dinner."

"It's okay, you're not too late. We can just heat this up in the microwave—"

"I already ate, Y/N." The glass in his hand slams onto the counter a little too loudly. "At the store."

You can't hide the way your face drops.

"Please." You whisper. "For me?"

Jungkook stares at you for a few seconds, unblinking, before he exhales shakily and pulls out the seat opposite you.

"What's on the menu?" He asks, hands already grabbing for the bottle of red wine in the middle of the table without so much as a glance at the food you worked so hard to prepare.

"Pasta."

"Right."

An uncomfortable silence settles. Jungkook nibbles at a meatball, and you suddenly feel too sick to the stomach to keep anything down.

You jump when Jungkook's fork clatters to the table. He wipes pasta sauce from the corners of his mouth with a napkin and you're sure you can see a slight tremor in his grasp.

"There's something I need to tell you."

His words ring out into the deafening silence that shrouds the apartment. You train your eyes to the candle in the middle of the table that flickers back and forth and carefully place down your own cutlery.

"Should I be worried?"

"No...I mean, I don't know. Maybe." Jungkook waves his hands around and when his eyes meet yours they're distant. Like the table that separates you spans oceans. "Just promise not to freak out."

"I'm not promising anything. Why are you looking at me like that?"

He shifts and the cheap flat pack dining chairs you bought when you moved in creak like they always do. "I...I got a movie deal. They loved the script I told them I've been working on and they want me to direct it."

Your heart fills with something sweet; pride. Even despite your downs recently this is still incredible news. You knew your boyfriend should be ecstatic...so why is he staring intently at the table cloth like it killed his whole family? "That's awesome, Kook. So what's the problem?"

"I gave them a different script."

Something shifts in the air. You hold your breath.

"Huh?"

"The script. The one you told me to burn before we came to New York. The one about you...your life."

Your blood runs cold and it's like your frozen. Just searching through the never ending blackness behind Jungkook's eyes that fails to falter, no matter how hard you pinch your inner thigh and hope you're about to wake up from a bad dream.

"You wouldn't." Your voice sounds strained and Jungkook doesn't even flinch. "You...I don't believe you."

"I'm sorry." He runs an exasperated hand through his hair. "It's just that they hated the first one and I wanted this deal so bad. It's a once in a lifetime chance Y/N, don't you see?"

The boy staring back at you isn't the sweet and sensitive Jungkook from Ocean City or the strong and passionate man from New York. His words get all mixed up in your head as you repeat them over and over and it's as if you don't even know him at all. All you can feel now is betrayal. And just like that all the anger that has been building inside you for months explodes.

"So my life is just a fucking plot for one of your indie movies, Jungkook?"

"It's always your life isn't it? Never mine." He slams his hands on the table hard enough to make your insides shake. "Ever since we came to New York I've supported you, sat back and watched as you achieved all your dreams. And it hurts, Y/N. To come home from my dead end job, and write another goddamn script that nobody wants to even read."

"I came to New York because of you!" You don't even realise you're crying until you taste the hot salty tears that won't seem to stop. "I came here so you could make it big! You're the one who encouraged me to audition for the play in the first place!"

"God, are you really that naive? Don't you see? I came to New York because I saw how much it meant to you." Jungkook lowers his voice, and there's something in his words that makes your heart twist. Pain. His eyes look watery and you long to reach out for him. Like the skin on skin contact will somehow make all of this okay. "And not once have you ever considered how it might feel for me to sit back in your shadow."

"So that's what this is? Jealousy?" You shake your head and get up from the table and turn to leave, but Jungkook grasps your wrist.

"Why can't you be happy for me?"

"I am happy for you Jungkook. And I always will be." Your heart softens and you're reminded of the boyfriend you know. The boyfriend you love. You want to believe he's in there somewhere so you place your hand over his, and for a second he looks hopeful. "But this was never your story to tell. That's what hurts."

He drops your arm, gaze cold and distant. "Then I guess that's it then."

"What?"

The room starts to spin.

"If you can't accept my decision to go ahead with the project then I guess we can't do this anymore."

"This?" You whisper.

"Us."

"Jungkook...Are you saying we're over?"

He drops his head into his hands and lets out a sigh. "Maybe. I don't know."

"You don't know?" You chuckle but it's hollow, empty. "You don't know if you love me any more?"

Jungkook's face drops and he lurches towards you, but you step back.

"No, shit Y/N I didn't mean it like that!" He looks scared. "I was just angry and it slipped out."

"Don't." His arms reach for you again but the brush of his fingertips feels scalding hot, wrong. "Don't fucking touch me."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't lie to me Jungkook." Your vision is blurred with tears as you rip open the closet and yank out a suitcase. "You're not sorry. I was never your muse. I was just a stepping stool to the top."

"Where are you going?" Jungkook's crying now too. It comes out as a sob.

"Home." You say as you rip open your shared closet door and start throwing your things into the case. "I'm going home. Where I belong."

"I can't lose you like this. Please." He reaches for your wrist again but you're already half way to the door.

"Too late." You say. "I'm going home. And I'm never coming back."

The familiar scent of burned popcorn and candyfloss soothes you as you creep through the backdoor of the Crestmont. It always had a broken hinge which opened just enough for a body to squeeze through. Seems not a lot has changed since you left Ocean City.

It's dark inside. Silent too, without the popcorn machine running and the movie trailers playing on LED screens. You don't know what you expected. It's gone midnight by the time you get back to Ocean City, but you don't want to go home just yet.

Comfort washes over you as you run your fingers over the gilded edges of the counter, and slip beneath the hatch on auto pilot. It feels strange to be back here without the starched shirt and bow tie you used to hate. You've swapped out worn sneakers for heels that click against the tiles and you've performed on stages for crowd's bigger than the Crestmont's but here and now, you feel like yourself. Even though everything in your life has changed, you're still the same small town girl underneath it all.

Without thinking your legs carry you to the wall of fame. The faces smile up at you, like they're saying welcome back.

"Hey mom," You whisper, stopping momentarily in front of her portrait. You stared at it for so long as a kid that you have every detail committed to memory but seeing it up this close makes your breath hitch. "It's me."

With a sigh you force yourself past into the hall. Your hands tremble as you push open the door to the theatre. It's just how you remember it, sparkling gold and red velvet and mystery. But there's yellow tape strung up across all the seats and a sign has been propped up on the stage, red glaring letters burning a hole in your heart as you read them.

DANGER. DUE FOR DEMOLISHMENT. STAY AWAY.

All you can do is let your legs buckle, back sliding down the wall as you hug your knees to your chest and let out a throaty sob that echoes from the high ceiling.

When did everything go so wrong? You must be cursed. Everything you touch gets destroyed.

"Y/N?"

The lights flicker on, bathing the room in a soft golden glow. You wipe your tears, but that doesn't stop them from coming.

"Over here."

Your voice is small but a few seconds later Taehyung's face appears from behind one of the velvet seats. His eyes soften when he sees you curled up in the corner.

"What are you doing down here?" He clambers over the seat to join you, his long legs folded awkwardly in the small space.

"Having a one man party." You snort and point to your tear stained cheeks.

"Are you okay?" His hand covers yours and the contact makes you jump.

"Yes..." You sniff. He raises a brow. "No. Jungkook broke up with me."

Taehyung chokes. "What?!"

"I mean, we fought and then he...he said we were over." Your heart stabs painfully but you shrug. "So I came here. Didn't know where else to go."

He places an encouraging hand on your shoulder. "Listen...I know I haven't always been there for you when I should've. Hell, you always took care of me and I never even asked how you were doing." He offers a small smile. "But I'm here now. And you can tell me anything. If...if you want to."

A few seconds tick by in silence. You try to form a sentence but everything just comes back to the same three words.

"I miss mom." You blurt.

It echoes through the theatre, and you can practically hear the mermaids and the cupids painted on the ceiling gasp. It surprises you too, the combination of grief and relief that washes over you at finally admitting it.

"I know." Taehyung pulls you into his chest, lips whispering against your hair as you let out a sob and it's like all the sadness and denial is rushing out of you like a faucet, filling the whole room up like a water tank. You're terrified of the moment it gets too full, and you stop being able to breathe. "But you're a lot like her, y'know."

"That's exactly the problem!" Your words come out as a yell and it makes you both jump. "Everyone always says I look like her, I talk like her, I act like her. And I hated it for the longest time because I hated her for leaving us!"

"But without even realising it I became her, Tae. I did what I always said I wouldn't and became selfish. I hurt you, and Jungkook and even the Crestmont."

"That's not true."

"It is! And the worst part is I don't even hate her any more. I need her. To hold me, and tell me it's going to be alright. But she isn't here!"

"What does this have to do with Jungkook?"

"Jungkook wrote a script. A long time ago. About mom. And you and I. And everything that happened." You swallow, Taehyung's eyebrow raises though he doesn't look at all surprised by this information, nor as horrified as you that a record of your bleak shortcomings exists for anyone to read. "He got a movie deal. That's why we fought."

Taehyung hums. "You don't want him to make the movie?"

"It's not that I...I want to be happy for him. But I can't." You choke. "It's too painful. Remembering."

Accepting.

"When I said you were a lot like mom, I meant that you are headstrong." Taehyung pauses. "I felt that way once too. Like I hated mom and the goddamn world for taking her too soon. But in the end, the only person I hated was myself. Like however hard I tried I could never get over her, and all the pain I was pushing down into a dark place kept taunting me through the nightmares." He shivers, and you grip his hand tighter. "But one day I realised I don't have to be afraid of that pain any more. That pain is a part of me. But that doesn't mean I have to let it win."

"So what did you do?"

"I let myself feel it . I faced it. The only way I could let mom go was to stop running away." He pats your shoulder. "You need to set the girl in that script free, so you can move on."

And just like that, you're swimming...up, up, up, until you reach the surface of the water tank and you can take a heaving breath for the first time.

You throw your arms around his neck. It feels weird to hug him like this, but it's nice. "I missed you, Tae. Thank you.”

"I didn't do anything." He says. "The strength is inside you, you just need to find it. Just like you need to stop holding on to the past and let the new you shine for once."

You shake your head. "I need to talk to Jungkook. I don't know why I stormed off like that and..." You trail off. "Wait, how did you know I was here?"

Taehyung grins. "I didn't. I got called in to sort some paperwork and I noticed the back door ajar. Good thing it was you and not some crazy with a baseball bat, right?"

"At this time?" You nod to his still pyjama clad state. "Is it important?"

"Y/N," He laughs lightly. There's excitement shining in his eyes. "Someone just bought the Crestmont."

You scramble to your knees. "What?"

"We're staying open, and I get to keep my job."

And then you're hugging again, and laughing and crying because the Crestmont is going to be okay. You're going to be okay.

"That's incredible, Tae! Who is it? Who bought the Crestmont?"

"I don't know, it was an anonymous transaction. But the guy said he would be here...." He glances at his wrist watch, and as he does, the door creaks open. "Around now."

"Hello? Anyone here?" A familiar voice calls out.

"Jungkook?" Both of your jaws drop as you poke up from behind the seats. Sure enough your heart flutters when you see him, all wind swept and out of breath like he ran here.

"I thought you might be here." He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Can we talk?"

The car ride to the pier was mostly silent. Jungkook borrowed his dad's old beat up truck -- it was that or his old bike with the pegs on the back -- and it still smelled like leather and petrol like it used to.

Everything about Ocean City is the same as you remember it. The pier stands strong atop the rocky sand, sea air deliciously fresh as it fills your lungs. The rolling waves shimmer like gold dust below the wisps of pink clouds that greet the rising sun. The beach is a peaceful view at this time. No tourists, all of yesterdays sandcastles swallowed by the sea spray. It took a couple hours to work through the paperwork so by now it's early morning — 5:30am according to your phone lockscreen.

It's chilly, and your skin is covered with goose bumps even despite Jungkook's suede jacket wrapped loosely around your shoulders. But you don't mind.

You've missed this. You've missed Ocean City.

"No ice cream, I'm afraid." The breeze ruffles Jungkook's hair as he emerges from the fairground and settles beside you with his legs poking through the rails. He flashes you an apologetic smile. "I guess the parlour doesn't open until 9..."

You feel a pang in your chest. Being here is like a serious case of deja vu. Countless hours spent in this very spot, eating vanilla scoops with rainbow sprinkles beside Jungkook used to be so normal. When did you grow so far apart that you're surprised he even remembers?

"Jungkook..." You swallow hard when you meet his eyes, hands longing to reach out and stroke the stream of sunrise on his cheek that makes his dark eyes sparkle. "We...we need to talk. About everything."

There's a moment of silence filled only by the calls of seagulls greeting the morning before he speaks. "I sold the script."

He sounds nervous. Like he's not quite sure what your reaction will be.

You swallow. "And you used the money to buy the Crestmont?"

"Yeah." He says matter of factly, scratching a phantom itch at his nape. "I guess I did."

"Why?" Your voice is small.

"I can't loose you, Y/N." He murmurs. "Just like you can't loose your mom. The Crestmont was her everything. But you are mine. And loosing the Crestmont would be loosing a piece of you, and I couldn't stand that."

The breeze ruffles his hair as he reaches for your hand and links your fingers and squeezes hard. You don't make any move to stop him. You know what it means, so you squeeze back and return the sentiment. I'm sorry.

Before you can stop yourself you lurch forward, arms curling around his neck and it's like coming home. His hands pull you flush to his chest, hearts beating in sync and you know everything is going to be okay now.

"Thank you." You whisper against his nape. A tear rolls down your cheek and soaks into his collar and before you know it you're blubbering. "Thank you so much, Kook."

"You aren't mad?" His voice is muffled but you can hear the quirk of his brow.

"Mad? No..no..." You lean back and wipe your eyes with your sleeve. "But what about the movie? And your dream to be a director and--"

Jungkook grabs your shoulders. His own eyes are glassy as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.

"That was never what mattered to me, Y/N. Not even a little bit. There's one reason I went to New York and it's the same reason I came back to Ocean City tonight. You."

"But--"

"No but's. As long as we're together, I'm already living my dream." His lips turn up into a smile, his eyes tracing your face like it's the first time and he can't get enough. "And I never ever want to wake up."

You shift in your spot to face him properly for the first time, and emotion hits you like a tidal wave. It's like all of a sudden you realize how stupid you've been; to fight with the man before you, a man who only knows kindness, about the trivial when the things that mattered the most were always right here, in front of you. The things that mattered most were always in Ocean City.

You brace your hands on his shoulders and lean up so your lips are inches apart. His eyes fall shut naturally, and you can't help but laugh with what you can only describe as one thing: happiness.

"I love you." You whisper against his lips. A warm palm cups your jaw and closes the distance between them and you're almost too lost in the way Jungkook's kiss takes your breath away to hear his response.

"I love you too."

"Sooo..." You bite your lip with a coy smile when Jungkook pulls away, the blush upon his cheeks scarlet beneath the sun which is rapidly rising. "I take it we're no longer broken up?"

"Well duh," He swats you playfully. "You think I'd do all this just to dump your ass?"

"Hey!" You pout. "I dumped your ass."

Jungkook shakes his head with a laugh.

"Besides," He glances out over the horizon nonchalantly and shrugs. "I'm gonna need help if I'm gonna start my own film company and run the Crestmont."

Your jaw drops. "A what now?"

"A film company." He explains. "A different type of film company, right here in Ocean City. For the outcasts like me who have a vision that even the biggest names in New York can't see yet." He smiles, so big and bright it makes your heart leap. "I'm gonna show them, Y/N. And everything I need to do it is right here in Ocean City."

"I know you will. I never doubted you for a second." You take his hand and link your fingers, squeezing hard. "And you bet your ass I'll be front row to watch each and every one, Jeon Jungkook."

Epilogue.

"Just keep your eyes shut!"

"I already know where we're going, so why can't I look?" You laugh, attempting and failing to tug Jungkook's interlocked fingers away from your eyes.

"Shush, it's a surprise! Just roll with it."

A surprise. That's what Jungkook said earlier too when he woke you up at the crack of dawn by throwing a dress at your head and telling you to meet him outside in the truck in 10 minutes or else.

By the time you pulled up into the familiar parking lot of your not-so-mysterious destination, the sky was already aflame with the glow of morning skimming the horizon, and Jungkook practically leapt out of the truck, palms unusually sweaty as he grasped your hand and pulled you towards the path quicker than your feet could carry you.

"What's the hurry, Kook?" You get out between heavy breaths, quads burning as the path gets steeper beneath your feet.

Come to think of it, your boyfriend has been acting strangely all week. Like hiding things behind his back when you walk into a room or talking in hushed whispers on the phone to Taehyung when he thought you were sleeping.

"You'll see." The path levels out and you stop. Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist, chin tucked into the cleft of your shoulder like a perfect puzzle piece. "Okay. Now you can look."

You round the corner, heart racing when your eyes flutter open and your vision is filled with a sea of yellow flowers. Your place.

The meadow is just how you left it, tall grass and sunny blooms dancing beneath the rays of morning sun peeking out from between the clouds. A warmth spreads through your chest and you both laugh when Gureum lets out an excited yelp, before bounding off between the stems playfully.

"I think the little guy wants us to follow him." Jungkook raises a brow and throws you a knowing shrug.

Excitement flutters in your stomach like a butterfly trapped between cupped palms. "How could I refuse?"

Fingers interlinked, you part the sunflowers and jog after the ball off fluff bouncing across the meadow, the breeze cool and forgiving as it ruffles the strands of hair that billow behind you.

Eventually you reach the clearing, and Gureum wags his tail at you proudly when you stoop down to scratch him behind his ears.

The sun reflects in Jungkook's eyes, turning them a warm golden brown. "Turn around."

You spin on your heels with a questioning glance. "Why?" That's when you see it. The spot where everything began. The tree where Jungkook kissed you all those years ago has bloomed with fragrant blossoms, and twinkle lights glow like tiny stars around it's branches. A blanket is laid out in the sun flecked shade beneath it, littered with feather cushions and lanterns and a trail of sunflower petals that begin at your feet.

"You did this?" You take his chin in your palms, face beaming despite the tears that have started to blur your vision. "Oh, Kook."

"Surprise." He smiles knowingly, grabbing you from behind and spinning you round and round until you both land with a soft thump in the middle of the outdoor cushion fort. "You haven't even seen the best part yet." He says with a nod to his right.

It's then that you notice the white sheet that's strung up a couple meters away between the trunks of two trees, Jungkook's vintage projector set up in front of it.

"What is this?" You ask, bewilderment evident in your voice.

"Gureum, would you do the honours?" Jungkook chuckles, extending a finger to point at a remote that your puppy obediently picks up with his teeth and drops into your lap with a wag of his tail.

Jungkook tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and takes a deep breath, like he's been waiting for this moment for a long time. "Go ahead. Press play and find out."

Your head shakes fondly, but your fingers tremble with anticipation as they find the PLAY button. You press it and the projector starts turning, a light flicking on at the top that makes a grainy image appear on the sheet.

The first scene is you. A teenager, dancing through the sunflower field, laughter spilling from your lips. The first time you hung out. And then it switches. You, again. Cleaning up a spill at the Crestmont, unaware of the camera. You. Paint in your hair as Jungkook chases you around the apartment in New York. You. Tears in your eyes as you hold baby Gureum for the first time. You. Asleep on Jungkook's shoulder on the subway, the camera panning to his face which lights up in a big grin, lips mouthing three words.

I love you.

Tears are hot on your cheeks, laughing as you remember the good moments and the bad, the funny and the sad, all immortalized forever through Jungkook's eyes.

The film fades out, and you throw your arms around your boyfriends neck. He chuckles when you tackle him to the ground, throwing a leg over his lap so that you can lean down and capture his lips between yours in a kiss that says all the words you want to say but you don't know how to. I love you too.

"I take it you liked it, then?" Jungkook says coyly, thumb stroking your cheek.

"It was beautiful Jungkook." You place your hand over his. "Now I know why you're always goddamn filming me."

"What can I say? You're my muse."

"Shut up." You punch him playfully. "You're gonna make me blush."

It's Jungkook's cheeks that flush pink. "Actually..." He starts to sit up, fumbling around in his back pocket. "There's something else."

"Oh?"

He clears his throat. "The first time we came to this place I knew I loved you. Back then, I said I wanted to show you what I found most beautiful. And it was you. It's always been you." He takes your hand, grip tight. "When we met we were just kids with big dreams. We might be older now but heck -- I still don't know what I'm doing. All I know is dreams come and go but you never left. You always stayed by my side. Which is why I want to promise you something."

"What, Kook?" You manage to whisper. Your heart is beating a million miles a minute in your ears. Is this what you think it is?

Jungkook swallows hard, eyes boring into yours.

"That I'll go wherever you go. New York, across oceans, up mountains -- you name it. As long as we're together, everything will be okay. So that's why I wanted to ask..." His fingers tremble as he produces a tiny black box, flicking it open to reveal a ring that sparkles see through in the sun. "Y/N, will you marry me?"

"Oh Jungkook," You throw your arms around his neck, overcome with emotion now as you capture his lips with your own. "Of course I'll marry you. You didn't even have to ask."

He lets out a sigh of relief, and then he's spinning you around in circles until you're both dizzy with love and belly laughter.

"I love you." He whispers, eyes shiny. His hand gently grasps your wrist as he slides the ring onto your finger.

You've heard him say it a hundred times before, but this time it's different. This time it's forever. Your heart flutters.

"I love you too, Kook."

Where there are new beginnings

Ocean City is the same as it always was.

You wake up each morning to the distant crash or waves, and you fall asleep each night to the tinkling fairground music that makes your heart sing. Tourists come and go, flooding the casinos and eating churros on the beach.

The Crestmont is doing better than ever. Once Taehyung took over as owner, the theatre became the heart of the city, attracting visitors from near and far to see the renowned plays directed by none other than Jeon Jungkook, the most sought after playwright and filmographer in all of the East Coast.

And then there's you. Ever since you starred in one of Jungkook's plays, about a girl from a seaside city moving to New York with big dreams, there's been no shortage of movie deals and acting opportunities thrown your way.

But in the end, you always find yourself coming back to Ocean City.

Tonight the Crestmont reopens for business after some much needed renovations. Taehyung is throwing a party, and there will be plenty of big Hollywood faces attending to see the brand new theatre and the updated __.

But one thing will always remain the same. The picture of your mom hung in the gallery. Her big smile is the heart of the Crestmont, greeting each and every visitor with pride.

And in the empty frame at the end of the wall of fame, there's a new picture.

You. Smiling, with your hair over one shoulder, just how you imagined. And beside you is Jungkook, with his arm wrapped around your waist and Taehyung holding Gureum and making a silly peace sign behind your head.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

Okay so hi if you’re still here!! I decided to put this at the end because I didn’t wanna spoil the ending so please send love to @brekkiejeon​ !! They sent me the request for the ending of this fic all the way back in January and i’m trash and took like 7 months to finish writing it so i hope you enjoyed it even so lovely !!! <3 thank you for the request and sorry for the wait, this one really got me creative lol! 

Also I’d like to dedicate the smut in this fic to @atastefulwonderland​ because I know you love some good ole JK loving!! Hehe, ily~~

Also lemme know if this was bad because I never usually give OC so much backstory because I want it to be as relatable to the reader as poss obvi but these characters wrote themselves lmao like i’m just the writer i had no control okay???? I just do what these mfkers say. LOL.

[thesauropodpaddock]

Puck; S.Rogers

— A series: pt four—

♡

— “Over it?  Your face says otherwise, Sunshine.”

Pairing: Brothers best friend hockey player!Steve Rogers x midsized!OC

Word count: 2.4k

masterlist

Warnings: smut, lots of lube, unprotected sex, edging, praise kink, slight authority kink, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, angst, lots of teasing, forbidden romance, of age drinking, — 18+ MINORS DNI

Summary:  in which sage barnes finds herself in a forbidden situation with her brother’s hockey-playing best friend, steve rogers, who finds her to be the annoying little sister of his best friend...until he doesn't. The only rule? don't get caught by bucky.

♡

Sage

We crammed, well crammed wasn’t the right words, into Siobhan's restored VW van, claiming our spots, bright and early at five-thirty in the morning. I put in my earbuds and pulled out my book. I crossed my legs and pulled at my hoodie sleeves. Get as comfortable as possible, were Siobhan's words. We had a seven-hour car ride to get through. Bucky offered to drive halfway, and then Siobahn said she would pick up the last half because she knew exactly where her family’s lake house was. The van wasn't exactly small, but it felt like it. We definitely had more people than it seated on a typical day. 

My eyes were burning from the bleariness, and I dug my palms into my eyes, rubbing them. Did it help? No. But it was worth a shot. 

“What’re the sleeping arrangements?” Steve asked, his groggy voice muffled by the headphones. I put my music low on while opening my book. “Because I'm not rooming with Siobhan or Sage.”

“Steve, shut up!” I groaned.

“Steve, shut up.” he mocked, mimicking my voice. I rubbed my eyes again and groaned.

“Do you ever get tired of hearing your voice, Steven?”

“No, you clearly haven’t been paying attention for the last decade or so.” I glanced up and saw Steve peering over my shoulder, and I closed the book and pulled out my right earbud. 

“Can I help you?”  He shook his head with his lips etched into a smirk. It was way too early for this. I just wanted to pass the time quickly. And that meant a book and my earbuds.  

“Nothing, just uh, seeing what you're reading.” He held back a grin, and I glared, looking past him briefly, watching the trees whiz past through the window. He raised a brow, and my eyes flitted to his. 

“It’s none of your business,” I grumbled, crossing my arms. “Why would you want to know?” 

He shrugged and sat back on the bench seat. “What’s it about?”

 I shrugged, trying hard to ignore the eyes I felt were watching my slightest movement. “I just got it, and I don't really know,” I said through gritted teeth.  It was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that. (Oh great, Sage, you're a YA novel cliche). I wrote something down and highlighted it without another word. 

“Steve, stop antagonizing her.” Bucky grumbled from the driver’s seat, “Just let her read.”

“Oh, Buck, I'm just trying to see what little Sage is reading.” 

“No, you're purposely antagonizing me when the sun isn't even up!” I shouted, making everyone in the van jump at the tone change. "What's going on in that head of yours? That says I'm going to annoy the fuck out of Sage every goddamn day!"

I put my earbud back in place and reopened the book. I dug through my backpack and pulled out my pen. Crossing my legs, I started annotating the chapter I was on, underlining and jotting my thoughts down. It got to the point where only Bucky and I were awake. And it was finally peaceful. No bickering or whining, and I could finish half of my book. I tucked it back into my bag and put my arms under my head like a pillow. It wasn't comfortable, but it’s not like I had a choice. The sun wasn’t up yet, so I was trying to take advantage of this darkness that shrouded the inside of the van. 

“Are you okay?” Buck’s voice asked, blue eyes looking at me in the rearview. I glanced up and raised a brow. 

“Sebastian won’t stop.” I didn’t elaborate. He knew exactly what I meant. 

“He's still bothering you?” 

I nodded. 

“Still texting, he’s mad I cut him off for that video, ‘it was just a joke,’ according to him.” I twirled my pen and shrugged, “Honestly, that was the last straw. It wasn't just about the video.”

“You mean the video of him mocking you and making fun of you while drunk?” he questioned, “the one that made you look bad?”

“I'm a big girl; I can handle it,”  I told him. He frowned and focused back on the road.

“I know. I know, but it is still dangerous.”

—

“No, absolutely not,” Steve said as we entered the house. “We have to figure out a different sleeping arrangement.”  It wasn't a little lake house. Still, it was initially only meant for four people: Siobhan, her sister, and their parents. Not Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Wanda, me, and herself.  

“It's only for one night, Roger’s. Get a grip,” Siobhan snorted. “You’ll live.” 

“We can share a room like two adults, and we aren’t children,” I stated with an exasperated sigh.  He kissed his teeth, and I rolled my eyes. Bucky joined his side and had his arm draped over Natasha’s shoulder. “A queen is plenty big.”

“What’s your hang-up, Steve?” 

“All the beds are queens, Buck,” Steve said between gritted teeth. And Siobhan snorted a laugh, and I crossed my arms; he knew about the limited space.  I rolled my eyes and scoffed.  

“Ehem, I'm right here and can speak for myself.” I groaned boredly. “And if you’re so concerned, you can sleep on the floor.” Siobhan and Nat giggled, and Wanda rested her head on Siobhan's shoulder sleepily. “What are you? A moody teenager?” The rest of us erupted into laughter, and Bucky spoke between laughs. Steve leveled him with a scowl.

“Are you that afraid of her?” Another glare. “Plus, I fully expect her to kick your ass if you try something.” Steve shot him a look, and Bucky raised his brows.

“You haven't,  have you?”

I looked at my brother, horrified.

”God, no!” 

“You’ll be fine.” Buck patted Steve on his shoulder. “Queens aren't twins, Steven.”

Siobahn and I broke away to clear the contents of the van. She opened the van door with a low huff of annoyance. And I did the same on the other side without the huff of annoyance. As she and I unloaded some of the van's contents, snacks, food, and the basics, I grabbed my bag, pen, headphones, and book, shoved them in the big pouch with my laptop, and zipped it shut.  She gathered more stuff in her arms and shut the van door. 

“Fuck, I have an awful headache right now, and nothing I’ve tried has managed to get rid of it.” She said,  setting what she grabbed next to her on the ground.

 "His name is Steve. Don’t be rude.” I shook my head, tucking my hair behind my ears.

Siobhan laughed, and we cleaned in comfortable silence before it hit me. I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"What?" 

"I have an assignment due at midnight." 

She shook her head adamantly, the tips of her hair twirling into a red blur, "No, no! This is supposed to be a fun weekend!" 

I eyed her. "I'm almost done with the assignment. It needs some editing, then turned in, and it's done.”

“Good, because it’s a distraction-free weekend.” 

“What's the plan for tonight?” Bucky asked, making me jump, and he raised his brows at me. “What?” 

I shook my head. “ Nothing.”  He gave me a strange look and shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He was wearing his stupid bun. “Do you even brush your hair?”

“Yeah, Barnes, how matted is that mop you call hair?”  Siobhan asked. He gave her a mocking smile and crossed his arms.

“Ha ha, very funny. Do you ever get tired of hearing your voice?” 

She smirked, “No, it's quite lovely, isn’t it?” 

“No, it's quite annoying.” he deadpanned.

“You’re both annoying,” I grumbled as I walked away. “And help her clean out the van, Steve, too!”

Siobahn snorted, and I didn't hear her reply because I was too far away. I reached the porch of the lake house and set the items down, stopping to tie my hair back into a ponytail. There were footsteps, and I looked up to see Wanda, her arms wrapped around herself to preserve the warmth she could, and Natasha was with her.  I raised a brow, and she smiled. 

“Need some help?” 

I nodded, and she bent down the box that contained the snacks for the bonfire tonight, and we headed inside. 

“So what's Steve's deal?” Nat's voice asked, her face hidden by a cardboard box packed to the brim with snacks,  Chips, marshmallows, chocolate, the works. And Wanda held a cooler of more realistic meal items. 

—

“No, because why are you always at my place and not your own?” I indicated to Bucky and Steve, blowing on the slightly on-fire Marshmallow and sandwiching it between the graham crackers and chocolate.  Steve shot back in the same tone as me.

“Why are you using a Reeses’s cup between your s’mores?”  I took a bite and licked my lip. Giving him a strange look when he took a swig from a  water bottle.

“Have you never seen me eat smores before?” my words are muffled by my full mouth. He shook his head, and I raised my eyebrows. “Well, this is... awkward.”

 “I’m pretty sure the word you’re looking for is terrifying,” Steve said, eating a roasted marshmallow. 

“What on earth are you drinking?” Bucky questioned, making another s’more.

“Uh...some... milk?”

“In a water bottle?” Buck asked again, eating his s’more.

“I’m still growing. I need calcium.” Bucky laughed and wiped his eyes because he was laughing so hard.

“Maybe if you stopped getting into situations that result in broken bones. You wouldn’t need so much calcium,”  I muttered. 

 —

“Sage, come lay down.” I crossed my legs from where I sat on the floor,  dressed in a hoodie and shorts, laptop in my lap, typing up my paper. I was taking a short break from the bonfire. I did not want the paper to be late. I glanced at him, not really registering what he had said. Steve laid face down, his face buried in a pillow, wearing a Flyers hoodie and black plaid PJ pants, his silver ring shining on his left middle finger. I continued typing and hardly noticed him getting off the bed. The slight sound of blankets moving out of the way and footsteps on the wooden floor creaked. They stopped when they reached where I sat on the floor. “Did you hear me?” 

It was then that I looked up at him. “Huh?” I shook my head. “Uh, no. I need to finish this paper.” 

A few beats of silence. 

“You didn't tell him,” he said it more as a statement rather than a question, which was odd. I resumed typing, not answering him. He glared, bending down to grab my laptop and shut it before shoving it into a side table drawer. 

A glare filled my eyes as I stood up.

“That's my laptop! And my assignment is due tonight! It's not even late. It’s like nine!” I exclaimed. I tried going for it, but he blocked my path. “And it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m over it.”  He rubbed his face, hand scraping against his beard, raising his brows with a sarcastic smile. He towered over me and looked down at me with a shadowed, dark seafoam green stare.

“Over it?  Your face says otherwise, Sunshine. You won’t even say what ‘it’ is.” 

“That you saw me in my underwear?” I snapped. He nodded. I let out a dry chuckle and rolled my eyes.  “Steve, we’re adults; you’ve seen me in a bikini. Besides, you walked into my house unannounced. I'm not gonna be fully clothed one hundred percent of the time. ” 

Or at all.

“I had to feed Alpine, and I thought you either had class at Ridgewood U or were at the coffee shop.” he retorted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It's not my fault that Buck gave me a key.”

I rolled my eyes so hard that you could probably see the whites of my eyes.

“It's my house, and that’s bullshit. I practically live on campus. Oh wait, my house is on campus!” I shouted over my shoulder, slamming the bedroom door behind me. I made it halfway down the stairs before I heard his heavy steps behind me. I whirled around and growled, “Leave me the fuck alone, Steve!”

“You aren’t going all the way to the van. It’s pitch black outside!” 

“Why aren’t you at the bonfire outside with everyone else?” I countered. He crossed his arms. I kissed my teeth with a nod, moving my laptop in my arms. 

“Why aren't you?” 

“I was going right back down after I finished this paper, dumbass.”

“I'm going to work in the van. It's not that far.”  Well, I didn't get that far. He had me beat in the height department and agility.  He had thrown me over his shoulder effortlessly, and it pissed me off.  And he managed to grab my laptop without dropping it. I squirmed, and he tightened his grip on my waist. 

“Put me down, or I'll scream,” I warned.

 He scoffed, “No, you won't,” 

“What makes you think I won't?”

“If you were, you would have already,” he stated as he climbed the stairs. I fell silent, ignoring him. He laughed, and I hit his back. “See? Proved my point.” He set me on my feet at the top of the stairs and looked down at me, arms crossed. “Are you going to run?” 

—

Trembling in fear and horror, I watched in shock as blood dripped from the creature's claws to the ground below. It was standing over the bodies of the people It had killed. It kept its teeth bared with a scornful sneer, a deep rumbling growl ripping from its throat every time it looked at the mangled bodies. Though Its breathing was heavy, I could tell it was due more to its rage than physical exertion. After all, it wasn’t like killing these people had taken much effort. Lifting its head, it finally turned its glowing gaze towards me, eyes narrowing as it took my cowering body against the wall. Never once looking away, It slowly started to stalk closer, each step silent and calculated as It neared.

Despite their slow approach, I couldn’t find it in me to move from my position, remaining weak, limbed, and frozen with fear as it drew closer and closer to me. My panicked breaths and slowly calming breathing echoed in the now silent clearing.

It wasn’t until it had gotten close enough to touch that I finally moved.

And I ran. 

It was faster, and I let out a scream. 

The images started to fade as a voice called my name.

“Sage. Sage, wake up!” 

[alexsfictionaddiction]

12 Lesbian Books Everyone Should Read This Pride Month

I need to point out how wonderful the updated version of the lesbian flag is. It’s inclusive of lesbians of all skin colours and that’s exactly what I’ve tried to do in this post. Pride is a time for acceptance, love and inclusivity and it feels especially poignant with everything that is happening in the world right now. So here are my favourite sapphic books that definitely need picking up, if your life is lacking a little girl power. -Love, Alex x

1. Something To Talk About by Meryl Wilsner.

Rumours flood the media that Hollywood starlet Jo and her assistant Emma’s relationship is something more than it is but could that actually be true? This brand new release is a sweet slow-burning romance set in a believable contemporary Hollywood that will help you escape.

2. Under The Udala Trees by Chinelo Okparanta.

When war breaks out in Nigeria, 11-year-old Ijeoma is sent away to safety where she falls for another girl -an experience that will forever change her. With elements of both Nigerian folklore and Christianity, this is a life story set against an eye-opening backdrop of African history, cultural attitudes towards sexuality and the effects of war.  

3. In At The Deep End by Kate Davies.

Twenty-something Julia hasn’t had sex for three years, when she gets her sexual awakening at a warehouse party and so transpires her new life as a lesbian. It’s a filthy, hilarious British rom-com with a Bridget Jones level of heartwarmth to it that reminds us that you don’t have to have it all figured out before you’re an adult. 

4. Juliet Takes A Breath by Gabby Rivera.

Juliet’s coming out didn’t go down well with her Puerto Rican family but now she’s interning with Harlowe Brisbane, a leading voice on feminism and being a lesbian, so surely she’ll get her life figured out, right? Funny and charming, this is a fierce educational novel that you will eat right up.

5. XX by Angela Chadwick.

When Rosie and Jules become the first lesbian couple to fall pregnant through innovative ovum-to-ovum technology, someone leaks the news and the whole world becomes incredibly interested in their lives. XX is a feminist, speculative critique of misogyny, inequality, homophobia and multiple other ills of the world that will pull you straight in.

6. The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily M. Danforth.

In 1989, Cam meets and falls for beautiful cowgirl Coley in their small conservative Montana town but her religious aunt has other, much darker, plans for her niece. Cameron Post is a heady daze of a novel full of angst and heartache that deals with very real issues for many LGBT teens, making it easy to see why its largely considered a seminal work in YA lesbian literature. 

7. Of Fire and Stars by Audrey Coulthurst.

Princess Denna is about to become queen of a land where magic is forbidden, while harboring a secret power of her own, but things get even more complicated when she meets her betrothed’s sister Mare. Intense friendship, conflicting loyalties and saving the world makes this fantasy novel a gorgeous read.

8. The Deep by Rivers Solomon.

Descended from pregnant African slavewomen thrown overboard, Yetu’s people have formed their own underwater society, free from sexual or gender labels, and Yetu remembers everything for them. This beautifully written novella is a very original, captivating and moving experience that is of paramount importance right now.

9. It’s Not Like It’s A Secret by Misa Sugiura.

When Sana moves to California with her family, she meets gorgeous and unique Jamie but both home and friendship dramas rear their ugly heads. As well as being a cute awkward romance, it also tackles racism, damaging stereotypes and celebrates interracial love.

10. Gideon The Ninth by Tamsyn Muir.

Tired of a life and afterlife of drudgery, Gideon plans to escape but her lifelong nemesis, necromancer Harrowhark has one last task for her. Gideon the Ninth is a very unique intricate fantasy with extensive world-building and a snarky, complex relationship at its heart.

11. The Color Purple by Alice Walker.

In the deep American South, Celie is separated from her sister Nettie, when she meets vivacious Shug Avery, who teaches her how to be her true self. The Color Purple is a classic within the black literature canon and explores race, abuse and feminism with wonderfully intriguing sapphic undertones. 

12. Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me by Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O’Connell.

Laura Dean is Frederica’s dream girl but their on/off relationship is starting to ooze toxicity and Freddy realises that she needs to decide what -and who- is really best for her. This stunning graphic novel is a lesson to us all to go after the love we deserve as opposed to settling for the love we can get.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Don’t Feed The Flames - Bucky Barnes x (f)reader, Natasha x platonic (f) reader

Summary: Bucky has made you angry after a tough mission with the crew, why you ask? Apparently he thinks it’s totally fine to run inside a burning building to help you complete the mission in question. 

Warning: bit of angst, mostly a good time with the team, Bucky fluff shoved in ur welcome

-reader has fire powers btw, I don’t wanna confuse anyone lol

Masterlist

The mission was difficult to say the least, successful in its own right, but tough for everyone involved. All the Avengers were needed for this clusterfuck of a mission, minus Bruce and Thor who are elsewhere in the universe, lucky them.

All the team needed to do was infiltrated one of the last highly armed Hydra bases left in existence, get rid of the artillery and boom, slither right on in. Objective? Snatch valuable intel as to where the other bases are hiding, and surprise surprise, you and Wanda had to take care of some very pissed off experimentees who were unfortunately brainwashed beyond the point of helping them recover.

Ending the night in everyone quickly evacuating the premise with the essentials while you stayed back to blow up the base to nothing more then bricks and ash. Although during this, Bucky stayed back to shoot some freelancers who tried to take you the fuck out, with what would you know it; flame throwers.

Apparently Hydra is greatly lacking in weapons and functioning brain cells, among other things. Granted, you understood Bucky’s concern for your well-being when he ran into the fire. But oh dear lord were you not happy with him one goddamn bit.

Luckily Sam was able to pluck him out before anything fell on your idiot boyfriend while you were producing mass destruction in the giant airplane storage area. In the aftermath, you came out unharmed but covered in smudge marks and burnt off cloves yet again.

Bucky? Well he came away with a pissed off girlfriend and his life to say the least. And let’s just say the long four hour ride back was a tad bit awkward, even if you were too damn exhausted to show your irritation with Bucky. The team sure as hell knew he wasn’t going to be spared of your wrath when the jet landed.

It took approximately ten seconds for your man to shuffle out of your line of sight, using Steve as a shield to hide behind while they walked out. You had been distracted when Natasha asked for something picked up, then suddenly your mind was on Bucky. A moment later you stomped out of the Quinjet in pursuit of the one and only James Buchanan Barnes as he awaited your fury.

“James!” You growl fiercely, “You are the most fucking reckless person I’ve ever fucking met and I’m literally friends with Tony!” You snap while the rest of your teammates go about their business, trying to listen yet smartly staying out of everything.

“I know.” Mutters Bucky like a kicked puppy suffering his mother’s wrath, blue eyes looking at you with regret clearly visible on his handsome face.

“You know! You know!? Then why the fuck would you just run into the flames like that!” You shout while throwing your arms into the air in frustration, “You’re not fire proof Bucky!”

“Y/N...”

“Do you have a goddamn death wish!?” You interrupt, giving him a dumbfounded look as he glances from Steve to the floor then back to you again, trying to find something or someone with enough pity to help him. 

He finds none, “Well....no.” Your brows raise yet again at his short and annoyingly blunt answers to make up for his stupidly daring boldness. 

“Then why-ugh, whatever never mind.” You dismiss with a wave of your hand before quickly turning on your heels to walk for the metal doors into the main part of the facility, while the others keep their distance from your heated state.

“Wait Y/N, come back I’m sorry!” Exclaims Bucky desperately while you continue to ignore your reckless man, “You’re right I shouldn’t have....ugh...come on babe....shit...” Mutters Bucky as he watches you leave him in such a heated state.

“Dude just let her cool off, oh uh well....no pun intended.” Jokes Sam with a shrug as Bucky watches you stomp away in frustration, your body almost sizzling with actual flame.

“I didn’t mean to....well...ugh, shit I guess I kind of did.” Admits Bucky with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as you slam the door shut with a loud thud, “Sometimes I forget fire can’t hurt her. I should have just let her handle the burning building herself instead of going inside when she uh, told me not to.”

Steve walks out of the Quinjet with a bag in hand to greet the two, “Y/N seemed a bit...”

“Pissed off.” Adds Sam with a light chuckle as Bucky frowns at the giant glass window.

“Yeah.” Mutters Steve awkwardly as he side eyes Bucky, “Well ugh, see you guys at dinner, I think Wanda and Vision are getting takeout from somewhere.”

“See ya Steve.”

“Bye.”

Sam and Bucky watch as Steve heads for the metal doors, soon he’s gone and the two are the only Avengers left in the giant parking garage of sorts.

“She’s going to hate me for the rest of the day I know it.” Sadly mutters Bucky, already missing your beautiful face no matter what state your in.

“I wouldn’t say it’s hate.”

“She’s going to be very disappointed in me then.”

“Yeah probably.”

Bucky gives him an offended look, “You’re supposed to say something uplifting or positive.”

“Man don’t look at me for relationship advice. This is Y/N we’re talking about, just give her a couple hours she’ll simmer down.” Inquirers Sam with a friendly pat on the back before he starts walking away for the door, as casually and unbothered as ever.

Bucky keeps silent for a moment while his mind swims with what to do next, suddenly he looks up at his retreating friend, “Hey Sam!” Shouts Bucky just as Sam opens up the door, causing him to stop and give his friend a quizzical look.

“What?!”

“Fuck you!”

Sam immediately snorts, “You brought this upon yourself brother!” And with that he shuts the door leaving Bucky alone and full of regret for putting himself in danger today when you specifically told him you could handle yourself.

Why is caring for someone so hard, wonders Bucky.

——

After taking a greatly needed shower and putting on a fresh new pair of comfortable clothing for the evening, you slipped past your friends rooms and away from where Bucky may be hiding.

Until at last you made it to Natasha’s door without being caught by anyone in the hallway and stopped for a needless conversation. Soon enough you slip into Nat’s room and saunter around for a bit as you wait for her to end her shower.

“Oh shit!” Gasps Natasha as soon as she opens the door and notices you poking around her stuff, “Jesus Y/N how’d you get in here!?”

“I opened the door.”

“I thought I locked it?”

“You did.”

Natasha gives you a puzzled look as you wander over to her nightstand, nonchalantly minding your business while picking up her current novel as she watches you curiously, “So uh, how’s it going?” She asks cautiously, well aware of your irritation with Bucky earlier that day.

Flipping through the pages you answer her honestly, “I’m fine now.”

Natasha nods before turning around to search through her drawers for an outfit, “I figured that much, considering if you were still pissed you’d be throwing fireballs into the cement wall downstairs.” She quips with her usual smirk as you gently close the book and set it back in its rightful place.

“That is.....true.” You agree with a shrug, “I’m just sending a message at this point.”

“Oh really?” Laughs Natasha while slipping on a shirt, “Poor Bucky then.”

“Yeah well he was being an idiot tough guy so....it’s what I’m doing.” You add with a lopsided smug grin, “Serves him right for being reckless with no regard for his physical safety. I love him but at what cost?”

“Someone needs to tell Steve that.” Mutters Natasha as she pulls on some sweatpants.

You chuckle, “What? That someone needs to tell Steve they love him? Not a bad idea.”

“That too.” Points Natasha, “I seriously don’t know how he’s not dead yet.”

Your brows furrow in thought for a moment, “He’s built like a stone sentinel with a will greater then many, he fears nothing.” You deadpan, face stoic and serious.

“Just about.” Laughs Natasha as you begin to cackle right along with her, in the middle of your laughing fit does the door suddenly burst open to reveal...

“Hello ladies.” Chirps Tony with an award winning smile, usual old T-shirt on and hair a bit of a mess though somehow managing to keep his Stark charm.

“I really need to get an automatic lock on that thing.” Mutters Nat to no one in particular.

“What’s up Stark.” You add with an acknowledging tilt of your head, “You here to bother us or tell us something interesting?”

“Everything I say is interesting my dear sparky.” Quips Tony with a brow wiggle.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Right, anyways. Foods here.” Chides Tony as he sets a hand on his hip, “Unless you’re both too cool for movie night. More for us then, I’ll have Vision drop off our half eaten tacos.”

“We have tacos?” You ask with an intrigued raise of your brow, just wanting to confirm and make sure he’s not bluffing, you fucking love taco night.

“Yep.”

“How long have they been here?”

“Wanda and Vis just arrived so you’re the first two I found.” Oh, fuck yeah!

Turning your head to a smirking Natasha you smile back before bolting for the door, “Move Stark!” You snap before shoving him to the side and cackling as you and Natasha book it down the hall with Tony trying to keep up in the background. What can you say, Natasha always makes it a competition and its taco night. Sometimes you gotta play dirty.

Soon you and your assassin best friend who you tripped up before reaching the door finally skid into the Avengers giant lounging area. The room is relatively empty with the exception of Wanda and Vision who are seated at the large metal table near the kitchen where all the various paper bags of tacos are seated. And ripe for the taking.

Smelling absolutely delicious all tucked snug in their wrapping and filled with the most divine ingredients, you could just about die of happiness. With a beaming smile upon your face and the surprised expressions from your two friends you belt out loudly, “Tacos FUCK YEAH!” Before racing for the bags and getting tripped by Natasha.

Whipping your head up to watch her snatch a bag you growl half angrily, “You bitch.” While she happily smiles back down at you, taco in hand.

“What are you doing on the floor? Foods here.” She jokes as you quickly walk over to the counter with all the bags.

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious now give me that.”

After about ten minutes of eating and shooting the breeze with Natasha, Wanda, Vision, and Tony; you’re ears immediately catch the sounds of thundered running down the hallway and other muffled curses from two familiar individuals.

“Fun’s arrived.” Whispers Natasha with a friendly nudge to your arm as it lays on the flat surface of the table while you absentmindedly crumple up a wrapper.

Biting your lip you anticipate the impending commotion, “Fantastic.” And this whole evening could be more enjoyable if your hundred year old boyfriend would have used some common sense.

A second later the door swings open to reveal a panting Sam before Bucky slides in after him, equally as flustered, those two idiots. As they stand there collecting their breaths, Steve casually steps into the room, walking past them and over to the bags of tacos, “Aw sweet, taco night.” He confirms excitedly, hungrily eyeing up a particular bag.

Rolling your eyes, you slouch carelessly into your expensive swivel chair before turning to Wanda who’s seated across from you, “Hey, Red Riding Hood, you’re up.” She turns her attention away from Vision and nods before giving you a sly smirk and using her power to send a balled up piece of taco wrapping straight for your head.

In one calculably swift motion do you incinerate the paper material before its able to reach your face, “Y/N you’re going to set the fire detectors off.” Laughs Tony as he crumbles up a new ball.

“Eh, we could afford a renovation.”

Tony fake scoffs, “Rude.”

“Well Y/N, I thought you did great.” Applauds Wanda with a chuckle as the three other men walk around to the far end where no one is seated, “Alright Tony you next.”

You refrain from making any eye contact with Bucky who steals a few longing glances at your smiling face, instead he follows Sam and Steve to the opposite end and watches as you quickly turn another balled up paper to ash. The sounds of your laughter and the rest of the tables almost enough to drive him insane.

Yet he refrains, Bucky knows he’s essentially in time out, reason for almost getting himself killed today; and you’re not breaking anytime soon, or so he thinks.

Ignoring the three boys hungrily attacking their poor tacos away from the main groups theatrics, Vision suddenly gains your attention, “Well I suppose I should participate with this game or fear feeling left out....uh, what is the objective? Or perhaps the name?”

“They throw wrappers at me and I set them on fire before it hits myself or the ground.” You reply while crumbling up another piece, leaving Vision to process the possible deeper meaning to your brief explanation, though there really isn’t one. It’s just for fun.

“By the way I’ve been able to get her exactly once.” Brags Tony with a shit eating grin, causing you to scoff at that memory. 

“Oh fuck all the way off you flicked water into my face and then threw the paper.”

“And it was very much worth it.” He confirms as you roll your eyes at his cheating from last taco night.

The rest of your friends fill the room with snickers and some louder laughter coming from Sam down at the far end, with a raised brow you snap your head in that direction and stand, “Something funny bird boy?” You quip in a half threatening manner.

Sam’s smirk immediately drops from his face as his expression appears nonchalant, “What nooo. That was Steve.” He mutters before taking another bite out of his taco.

“Y/N that was definitely not me.”

“Uh huh.”

“Maybe it was Bucky.” Jokes Sam as you shift your fiery attention over to a fearful Bucky who quickly shakes his head before smacking Sam on the arm.

“No.” You confirm with a knowing smirk, “He doesn’t have a death wish.”

“Well neither do I please have mercy.” Pleads Sam with hands raised in defeat, “I would like to finish my taco.”

You stare down at them for a brief tension filled moment before casually shrugging, “Yeah alright.” Before sitting back down again.

——

Opening up the trash can you quickly shove down three giant paper bags from dinner with a bit of effort considering how full it is. Natasha and Vision are cleaning up in various areas nearby while Sam, Bucky, Natasha, Steve, and Tony sit in the lounging area discussing if it was necessary that Dobby was killed off in the Deathly Hallows. You know, normal things you discuss with your superpowered friends.

Well Bucky is mostly just listening and stealing glances over to you every couple of minutes, really wishing you would just walk over to him and let him show you how sorry he was with the biggest hug he could possibly muster. Probably never letting you go again, though you wouldn’t mind.

Ignoring your own longing to be cuddled up next to Bucky, you instead fight with the damn trash can to fucking shut its dumb lid already. With one hand forcefully shoving down bags, paper plates, and banana peels you start to think if volunteering for clean up was even worth it.

A blue flame suddenly erupts from your palm and makes a big black hole through the paper bags and plates, your eyes go wide in surprise as you immediately retract your hand from the trash and shut the lid just as quickly.

Taking a single step back you let out a breath before turning your head to find Bucky watching your whole ordeal go down with a drink in hand, guess he must have gotten up to get some juice and stayed for your one on one brawl with the trash can. Rolling your eyes, you wave it off, “Completely under control.” You mutter as he slowly nods.

Well this is awkward.

Shifting your gaze from Bucky to your friends and back to Bucky again, he finally speaks, “Is that why the lid has smoke coming from under it?”

“What?” You wonder in puzzlement before looking back down at the trash can to find smoke indeed rising, “Oh fuck!” Ripping the lid off you’re kindly greeted with a burst of flame and smoke. Well, shit.

“Uh, Y/N?” Asks Bucky with an uncertain chuckle, “You’re positive everything is under control?” Quips your smartass boyfriend.

With more flames rising to an almost alarming level, though not quit yet, you glance at your oblivious friends before racing for the sink, “Yes! Everything is fucking fine!” Wanda skips to the side as you snatch a cup of something from the counter by the sink.

Running back you skid in your tracks and dump the clear liquid onto the flames which causes them to rise even higher and gain the attentions of everyone sitting down and relaxing, “Why is my trash can on fire?” Asks Tony as casually as ever.

“I don’t know maybe it looks better this way?!” You sass before giving the glass a double take, “The hell? What the fuck was in this!” You shout, holding up the glass while fire burns in the trash from behind you.

“Oh that had some Quinjet fuel in it, why do you ask?” Replies Tony, he’s gotta be fucking with you.

Squinting at him in bewilderment, you shake the empty glass in frustration, “Why the fuck would there be a random glass of fuel sitting in a clear unlabeled glass on the fucking sink of all places!”

“What did you think it was?”

“Oh I don’t know!? Water?!” You snap causing the fire to roar even higher at your outburst.

Looking almost like a demon princess standing there with flames rising from behind you, your fists ball up with blue flame, something that you don’t even realize is happening as you give Tony a (what the fuck are you actually stupid) face.

Sensing your obvious irritation and rising anger, Bucky comes to the rescue with a whole bowl full of actual water and promptly dumbs it onto the flames which causes the unless materials to sizzle and whine. Soon the oranges and reds are gone, leaving the contents turned to ash and nothing more then wet soot.

Distinguishing your own flames, you hang your head low, revealing a tired heavy sigh as you mumble, “Shit.” Suddenly you feel admittedly quit drained and annoyed from the events of the day, even if they weren’t all bad.

Your friends keep silent for a moment before Steve quickly stands, “Movie night anyone?” Gaining the attention of everyone in an instant; you bless the blonde for his intuitive ways of helping you out in the smallest of moments. He truly is a great friend.

“Yeah I could watch something.” Adds Sam with a shrug, “I’m thinking Deathly Hallows Part 2.”

“Yeah it’s pretty good I’ll join.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah I’m in.”

Everyone get up and begins walking for the door as you stay standing in your spot near the wet and ash covered metal trash can, everyone exiting for the home theater except for Bucky who’s back is to you while he tells Sam you’ll be there in a minute.

Folding your arms, you suddenly feel like it’s the first time you and Bucky have ever talked one on one with each other, you’re typically a pretty damn confident and fiery person to begin with, it’s just. Being mad at your favorite human in the whole entire world and then embarrassing yourself with accidentally setting the trash can on fire can take its toll.

Also not to mention the mission many hours ago was admittedly hectic and stress inducing and then, Bucky....perhaps a moment to calm down would have been smart if taken earlier. God your life moves to damn fast.

“You are so intense sometimes.”

Breaking out of your self reflective trance, your eyes quickly dart up to see Bucky who’s giving you a soft smile, “If you wanted my attention you could have just asked.”

“Very funny.” You scoff, “I was actually too busy being mad at you.”

“Ah, right.” Nods Bucky as he mirrors your defensive positioning, deciding to cross his arms and make a pouty face like yourself, “So I guess we’ll just stay here and brood then?”

“I’m trying to make a point.” You mutter, you’re not gonna crack, you’re not gonna do it.

“I’m trying to get my girlfriend to watch a movie with me.” Admits Bucky with an affectionate head tilt as you frown, “I know they’re not going to wait for us so....uh....okay let me start over.....I’m sorry for being reckless and almost dying. And I mean it too, with all of my heart. I love you Y/N.”

Although you’d like to throw his dumb reckless ass some sass and strut away leaving him guessing and begging for more, you just can’t find it in you at this point. He looks at you with those big beautiful blue eyes full of love and adoration for you and only you, how could you possibly resist them?

You know with every ounce of your soul that he means every single word, and you also know that he’s missed you since the second you yelled at him and slammed the facility door, leaving him alone and regretting his past decisions that could have potentially ended him then and there.

“Sometimes James, sometimes.” You mutter, shaking your head in disapproval before a small smirk pulls at your lips and in that moment he knows you’re his, “Come here.”

Heeding to your wonderful command that he’s been waiting to hear all day, he swiftly makes the short distance to gather your smaller body into a giant Bucky bear hug, his strong arms wrap protectively around your back as his head falls into the side of your neck as he quickly steals a small kiss.

You pull him in even tighter and fully enjoy the sensation of himself flush against you, metal arm squeezing your rip cage and long dark hair that falls into your eyes; god you love him so much.

Giving you one last little squeeze of affection, Bucky slowly pulls away and presses his head against yours, “I gotta be honest, I have no idea what this movie is about.” Reveals Bucky as he continues to holds you close.

Chuckling you press a kiss to his lips, “I’ll tell you what’s happening. Let’s go before we miss anything else.”

Nodding, he tilts your head up to press a sweet kiss to your lips one last time before letting you go, so that the two of you can begin walking for the door. Opening up the metal and glass door for you like the gentleman that he is, Bucky quickly jogs over to your side.

“So Sam told me these guys are wizards or something? Like they can teleport and fly I think?” States Bucky in question while walking in step with you.

Looking over at him you smile at how cute he’s being right now, giving him an agreeable nod, “Yeah they can do cool stuff like change form and set things on fire.”

Bucky suddenly starts laughing much to your confusion, “Y/N does that make you a wizard?”

Shoving him to the side you snort as he keeps laughing, “Shut up.” You mutter humorously as he stumbles from your friendly push.

Making quick steps to catch up with you, Bucky pulls you into his side, “Forgive me I didn’t mean it...” Snickers your adorable idiot, “I bet you’d be the best wizard, pointy hat and all.”

Shaking your head you can’t help the smirk that tugs against your better wishes, “I’m gonna set you on fire.” You jokingly threaten him with as he affectionately squeezes your side, causing you to be pressed even closer against him.

“Wizard.” Muses Bucky as he plants a kiss to your cheek as you try and push him away.

“Bucky, shut the fuck up.”

“But, I love you.”