#lecture me on how ashamed I should be when you fucking HAD to send your kids to private christian school and go off on trips all the time

[androidemotions]

god not to like talk about being white trash or whatever but literally thinking about how its like my aunt and uncles philosophy seems to be like maybe if we put on enough of a show we'll stop struggling for money

#like they still all have the lastest iPhone or w/e they have 40$ water bottles and 100$ backpacks they have nice clothes and a nice car #like they're acting like we're the fucking devils that are holding money from them #I fucking remember growing up with eenough jeans for each day of the week.I grew up on ramen and koolaid like. like .... can you PLEASE not #lecture me on how ashamed I should be when you fucking HAD to send your kids to private christian school and go off on trips all the time #like shut the hell up I know what its like to feel ashamed and I know when I shouldn't need to and you're not going to tell me shit. #like god. my dumbass little cousins really thought they had shit to say to me when they don't know fucking anything about my actual life #like I'm fucking glad you don't know what its like to feel the kind of grief I do you little shitheads so never fucking tell me I'm grieving #wrong or that I don't care ever again #thing that makes me angriest is that it actually.got to me because that's what I'm like stuff gets under my skin no matter what #but like!!!!!! god. Just shut up. when you're 14 and trans and going to public school with 8 pairs of jeans that fit then you can fucking #talk to.me #vent / #so fucking agry and sad tonight kings sorry about this one.

[moonctzeny]

baby, we're two strangers

pairing: jeong jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: smut

word count: 2,255

summary: "When you attend your company's black mask party, you expect free booze and boring small talk with your co-workers. What you don't expect is to meet a cute stranger, who's more than willing to take you out of your misery. You don't know anything about him, not even his name, only the two deep dimples adorning his cheeks"

warnings:  alcohol consumption, fingering, cunnilingus, smut in public (what else did you expect from me), jaehyun is a little on the subbier side at some point(??) but not really

a/n: happy birthday to our precious jaehyun! hope you like this anon, sorry it took so long :(

You always thought those business parties were a pain in the ass. You barely managed to go through 5 days a week with your co-workers without committing first degree murder, now you had to see them during your precious weekends too? The thought of you starting small talk with the lady at the front desk, or having to laugh with your boss’s terrible humour all night made you sick to your stomach. But alas, you know how much your supervisor loved those kinds of parties, and your wallet needed that promotion. He’d lecture you about how they cultivate group spirit and strengthen the company’s teamwork. You just saw it as an excuse to get drunk free of charge.

Catching your reflection in the mirror, you spot a stray hair that escaped the adhesion of your new hairspray, and you quickly brush it to place with your fingers. Your favourite black dress hugged your body, simple jewellery decorated your skin. You don’t even know why you bothered with eye makeup, the obligatory black mask for tonight’s dress code hiding most of your face already, with the exception of your red lipstick. You wonder whether the people who just quickly rushed by you in the hallways, too focused on their own deadlines and to-do lists would even recognize you.

The party was boring, just like you predicted. You’d given up long ago in trying to keep the conversation going with Matt from the IT department (who proved to be the most boring man on earth, apparently) and planted yourself right next to the booze table. You had your own little wine tasting party in the past hour, trying aged drinks from 10 years ago up to vins ordinaires. The alcohol relaxed your muscles and left a pleasant buzz in your head, effectively drowning out the dj’s playlist that only had hit songs from 2016. You were content in your solitude, satisfied with just staring at your co-workers interacting with each other, noticing who disliked who, who were the funny ones, who needed help with social interactions. But your comfortable loneliness wouldn’t last for long. 

“Mind if I join you?”

Ugh. Just what you needed. Matt from the IT department probably told his buddy, Ben - who keeps rudely staring at your skirts at work - that you’re here and informed him about your location. Maybe if you ignored him he would go away. Or maybe you’d just tell him that you suddenly need to go to the bathroom. Had he ever heard you speak? You wonder if he’d believe you if you told him you were deaf, actually.

You turned around to face the man, hoping that he didn’t know sign language when you finally made eye contact with him. This definitely wasn’t Ben. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen in your life.

He was tall, with loose curls adorning the top of his head. His porcelain skin seemed to absorb all the light in the room, then send it out three times as bright. He looked fit, his small waist cinched in with the buttons of his suit, filled in fully in all the right places. You could only manage a deranged hum that barely sounded human. 

Through the small holes of the black mask he was also wearing, you can tell he was staring at you. You tried to keep the eye contact but failed miserably, your heart picking up a pace that sure can’t be healthy.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around. Do you work in the IT department on the bottom floor, maybe?”

You clear your throat, begging the wine in your system not to mess this up for you by making a fool of yourself. “I also work on the top floor. Maybe you just didn’t notice me before.”

“No no”, he insists, taking a sip from his drink as well while raking up and down at you with his eyes, “I would definitely remember”.

Your cheeks are burning up at this point and you leave your drink at the table, not trusting your clammy hands to not drop the 2017 Merlot all over the floor. You were done acting like boo boo the fool. You weren’t gonna let this one slip away.

“It’s weird, I don’t remember you either. And you seem like such nice company”

He smiles at your reciprocation and you almost gasp at the appearance of two deep dimples on his cheeks, framing his lovely smile. He looks like a mixture of a prince and what you pictured Edward Cullen to look like when you were reading The Twilight Saga as a teenager.

“What department do you work at, then?”

You have to roll your eyes. The wine has made you a little impatient, and the heat of your body was getting hard to ignore.

“Here’s the thing Dimples, one thing I really fucking hate is small talk. So how about you really entertain me out of this boring party?”

He seems taken aback by your sudden confidence, yet amused either way. He doesn’t miss the fact that you’re the one checking him out now, your whole body leaning against him.

“I figured I should be a gentleman first”

“I don’t want a gentleman. I need a distraction”

He flashes you those dimples again and you get the sudden urge to tackle him.

“I see. Wanna get out of here?”

You didn’t need to hear more. Taking his hand, you lead the mysterious stranger outside the hall area the party was held at, finding an empty bathroom. You felt naughty dragging a man - a stranger at that - to a place like this, reminding you of your days as a teenager. A cold breeze sneaking through the little window spread goosebumps all over the skin of your legs that was uncovered by your short dress, yet you were hyper aware of the heat emitted from the man’s body.

The moment your hands left the rotating lock, you felt his body towering over yours, then the pressure of his soft lips. He tasted sweet, like the liquor he had enjoyed earlier, his hands snaking around your waist to bring you even closer against him. You kissed with vigor and a passion that was burning in your belly, and you suck on his tongue to show him a sneak peek of your talents. He moans in your mouth, a deep rumble that you gladly swallow up, your fingers tugging on his locks in hope you get another one out of him.

You do, and he’s had enough, wrapping his hands around your legs and lifting you up on the counter. He’s sitting right between your legs, right where you want him most, and your dress has now well ridden up, only one layer between you. He seems to be thinking the same thing as his teeth are breaking the skin of your neck, one hand behind you on the mirror, staining the glass.

“Can I make you feel good?”, he asks with a voice filled with arousal and the want to please. In that moment, you wanted to moan out his name, followed by a ‘yes, please’ but you realised you never asked for it, and it didn’t really matter at this point. 

You nod back pleadingly, your eyes watery with how much you’re desperate for any sort of friction. He lifts the hand that had been kneading the soft skin of your hips, and places his thumb right over your lips. Like a reflex, your tongue peeks out from between your teeth, tasting the saltines of his finger. He moves it further inside, satisfied with the feeling and your tongue dancing around it, and when he has finally pushed half of it in you start to suckle the digit. 

The stranger’s eyes haven’t left your lips for a second, completely mesmerized by your mouth’s work and he messes up your red lipstick a bit, dragging his finger down your chin, leaving a red line behind. Dipping his thumb back in your mouth again, he lets you suck a little more until you have coated it with a satisfying amount of spit, then brings it right over your panties.

They are cotton, dampened from the moisture of his fingers and your own arousal. He applies pressure right over your clit, just enough to see you squirm on that counter, then continues to draw figure eights over the fabric. His finger dips in your opening on the lower curve of the number and you feel yourself get wetter, holding on tightly to the man’s broad shoulders and moaning in satisfaction.

He shuts you up with a kiss, nibbling on your lower lip as he pushes you panties aside, and you’re a little embarrassed with the printed watermelons they have on them. He toys with you a little, spreading your wetness around before finally dipping in, smirking at the way your head falls back. 

The heels of your feet are sitting stubbornly on the marble surface of the counter, knees next to your shoulders to give your new friend as much access as he needed. There was no time for you to be ashamed for showing him all of you, the pleasure was overflowing and ripping out your seams. He starts a trail of kisses from the junction of your next, sucking and licking his way to your chest, and frees one of your boobs with his other hand. The cold and arousal has your nipple stay erect and he seems to enjoy the view, sucking lightly and then harshly, while following the same pace petting your pussy. 

“Am I a good company?”, he asks you then, and you’d expect his tone to be teasing but it’s anything but. He’s looking back at you with wide eyes, expecting your feedback and you pet his hair, lowering his head down with the tiniest bit of pressure so that his mouth reconnects with your chest.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Are you going to make me cum?”

He nods eagerly and you lift him up with the collar of his shirt, and you know his expensive cologne will dwell on your fingers after you’re done. You bring him into a kiss, tasting his lips before you whisper over them.

“Then you have to try a little harder”

You could practically see the determination in his eyes, and he wastes no time as he immediately gets on his knees. His breath is cool over your hot core, the feeling sending tingles down your spine. The anticipation is so high that when his tongue finally comes in contact with your sensitivity you almost yelp. 

His talent isn’t limited to his fingers, you think as he leaves kitten licks over your clit, giving the bundle of nerves a gentle suck periodically. Just as you’re getting used to the soothing circles of his tongue he dips one more finger in, successfully stretching you open and you bite your hand to stifle your moans. You’re worried that your wetness will drip down to the floor but then you’re reminded of your panties, the friction of the fabric stimulating you even more. 

“I’m gonna cum”, you moan in a high pitched tone, bracing both you and the man feasting over you on his knees. One last suck and you’re thrown over the edge, legs shaking as you’re desperately trying to hold yourself in place, before you fall or crush his head with your thighs. He lets you ride out your high, still dipping his fingers in and out slowly, prolonging your pleasure as much as possible. When you both feel like you’re done he gets up again, drying up his chin that is wet with your come. The tent in his slacks is painfully visible, and you rub over it seductively as you also rub your still exposed nipple.

“How about I pay you back”

The stranger doesn’t have time to answer, a loud knock making you both jump in shock and you quickly get decent again.

“Is someone still in there? I really need to use the bathroom”

“Coming!”

“Yes!”

You facepalm at the dumb mistake, exposing yourselves so easily at the man on the other side of the door. He lets out a rumbling laugh, and if there was really such a thing as ‘the end of the world’ you wish to any god out there that it happens right now.

“Ahh, I get what’s going on. You keep at it kids, another bathroom became available just now. And use protection!”

You bury your face in the stranger’s shoulder, and you feel him laugh silently at the ridiculousness of the situation. He opens the door just a slither, and when he makes sure no one is waiting for you outside the bathroom, he leads you back to the main hallway.

“So that was…”

“...hot”, he finishes your sentence with a naughty smile and you swear those dimples are gonna kill you.

“My name is y/n”, you say and firmly shake his hand, the gesture too formal compared to the things you’ve just finished doing together, “I still want to thank you for that, if you do too, of course”

“Jaehyun”, he says right back, then rubs the skin right under your lips with his thumb, and his fingertip comes back red. “Sorry for that, I got a bit carried away. You have nice lips.”

“Thank you, Jaehyun”

#neosmutcollective #neowritingsnet #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #nct 127 #nct u #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct smut

[hoodieofholland]

Handsome Man // Professor!Tom

Summary: you think your professor is a really good-looking man and let it slip out of your mouth.

Word count: ~2.9k

Warnings: none, except for some swearing.

A/n: I really liked writing the prof!tom universe and made it longer now (thanks anon that motivated me to write more about it). taking a moment to add that i always get this feeling that first encounter between reader and professor tom would be like fluffy as hell, he'd be so polite and that fucking accent of him ugghhh. Perfect. Anyways, enjoy!

Masterlist

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Good morning, everyone!"

You raise your head abruptly, snapped out of your thoughts. Which, by the way, were all directed to the man who was walking down to his desk with a sweet yet confident smile on his face.

"You all are looking so excited with Monday" he says playfully and the class laughs. "Hope I'm worth your tired time here this morning".

You straighten your back, picking pen and book from your backpack as Professor Holland organizes his materials on the wood desk.

You weren't a square at classes or anything like that. But surely you were never late for English classes, neither badly dressed up. You always made sure to pick your best outfit, not leaving out the professional look, all to impress your favorite professor.

Not that you were silly enough to believe something would come out from that strictly professional relationship, but it was inevitable for you wanting to feel pretty around him, as your imagination flew wild whenever he stepped in the classroom.

Professor Holland was really something else. He wasn't only a handsome man, with a noticeable muscular body hidden behind the much formal clothes he wore. He wasn't only the youngest professor in that department. He was intelligent, had a good sense of humor and was incredibly polite.

You could tell by the way girls always seemed to be extra interested on this class that you weren't the only one in the room to feel attracted to your professor.

You always made sure to ne early so you could take a seat in the front row, not to claim for his attention, but to be able to pain attention to the lecture and also get the opportunity to have a good look at him once in a while, mostly when he was distracted, sitting at his desk and taking notes on the classes' essays.

By the end of the lesson, he dismissed the students and you started to pack your things, barely motivated to your next classes. Now that you wouldn't have your professor's look to distract you a bit, it really felt like fucking Monday.

There were only around four students left in the room, and you, who was caring your notebook and pencil on your hands, walking directly to Professor Holland's desk clarify his small notes he took on your essay from last week.

Three girls were standing around his desk, smiling widely as he explained something that were on the board.

"But, Professor Holland..." one of the girls asked the same stupid question again, letting his name roll along her tongue, as she was savoring it. You roll your eyes, flicking your feet as you waited impatiently for your chance to have a time with him.

Professor Holland sighed and gently tried to reassure the group of girls that they could have the assistant to solve their other questions, as he was running out of time and there was another person he had to assist.

Finally, the girls gave in and passed through you, taking the time to send you a look. You just shrugged it off and walked to the Professor's desk.

"Miss. Y/l/n" he greets your, a small smile forming of his lips. Your stomach felt like flipping inside of you and you tried to keep your composure as you reached his desk. "Any questions left?"

"Actually, Professor..." you handed him the paper, a bit ashamed of he remembering it was yours and connecting the words you wrote down with your face. It was so much easier when you didn't see your professor reading your text. "I marked some of the notes you wrote and didn't understand, if you could help me".

He looked over the text, a wrinkle of concentration between his brows, and just when he lifted his gaze back to you, you felt your heart fastening.

"Of course", he gives you a tightlipped smile, grabbing a pen to point some of the corrections to you. "See, there weren't any big mistake on this, you could say I'm just a perfectionist. Actually, this was one of the best essays from the class".

Your eyes light up immediately, feeling too enthusiastic for the compliment. "Thank you, Sir. It means a lot".

Professor Holland nodded once, averting his eyes from you for a moment, his face taking on a more stern look. Then he started to explain his notes and you felt more relaxed as you notice it wasn't really that big of mistakes. You listened with full attention and commented on what you felt like could improve on your writing.

"I feel like if you take your time to rewrite it and survey some of your constructions, this text will be more than excellent" he pointed, handing you the paper again, a proud smile on his lips. Then, he chuckled a bit, playfully, "Obviously, the first score is the one that will be considered for your grade, so it's up to you. But I think it'll be a great work".

You smile happily. "Sure, I'll do it", you take the paper back again and put it inside your folder. Looking at the wall clock, you just notice it's too long past the break between classes. "Shit, I didn't realize it was past your lessons' time already. I'm sorry, I should be going-"

"It's alright, Miss. Y/l/n". He sends you a reassurance smile, putting a hand over yours for a brief moment, but that didn't make it go under your notice. "I'm always satisfied to waste a little more time on my most dedicated students, and even more glad that your questions wasn't about lessons itself", he grimaces and you could tell what he was referring too. "Not in my best behavior saying it out loud, but I was starting to think I wasn't doing a great explanation".

You laugh a bit and shake your head. "Oh, you shouldn't worry about it. I'm pretty sure you're the best professor from this department. Plus, those girls weren't seriously having a problem with the subject" you roll your eyes softly, still smiling, but not quite realising what you had just said.

Professor Holland scowls, face confused as he catches your last sentence. "What do you mean?"

You froze, eyes widening as you gulp. "I-I mean- like, you were explaining it for the fourth time already... it wasn't possible that they didn't get it. I think they were more interested on... you know?".

He narrow his eyes, quirked his brow questioning, expecting you to explain yourself. A shiver pass through your body, embarrassment running right to your blushing cheeks as you struggle to find a proper answer.

"I mean, I think they were interested on... you". You almost cough, looking for somewhere else to stare in the room, avoiding your Professor's concentrated eyes. But as silent is completely made, you have to make sure he isn't mad at your stupid comment. Averting your eyes back at him, you are surprised to be met with his brown ones filled with what seemed amusement.

He was supporting his chin on his fist, a curious look covering his soft feature, hiding a smile behind the thumb pressed against his lips.

"Why would you think that?" He asked in the same amused tone and you never felt more stupid.

You wanted to slap your forehead and hide your entire self on the closest bathroom, but Professor Holland had those glistening brown soft eyes on you, nothing but a relaxed face put in your display, his sultry voice - which you were pretty sure wouldn't sound like this on purpose - incentivanting you to continue.

You cleared your throat and collected your devilish thoughts to think straight.

"I guess most of the girls here think you're, y'know, a handsome man" you shrugged, wanting so much sound casual, as that wasn't your personal opinion.

Mr. Holland raised his eyebrows, you couldn't tell if it was surprise for your answer or for your courage on saying that out loud. Maybe both.

"Did you hear that?", he questioned, tilting his head a little to the side. "From those girls?"

He got you. You knew that. He knew you were just making assumptions, which meant that could only be your own opinion expressed on the vision you had over other students.

"No", you answered under your breath, gulping. "It's just a guess".

Silent was made and you felt terrified. You truly started to think that Mr. Holland was planning the most tough comments on your behavior, that he would try to show you how unprofessional and not ethic at all was your opinion about him, that he was your professor and you were his student, nothing beyond that. But then he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair as his eyes concentrated on you.

He looked like someone who was pondering something, but your nervousness calmed down a little bit at the way he had his gaze over you. Though his eyes were dark, that couldn't be so bad, if he didn't have a mad expression on.

"Is it what you think?" He tried again, the corner of his mouth threatening to quirk. "Do you think I'm a handsome man?"

You close your eyes briefly, feeling past ashamed of it. "I'm sorry, it's pathetic, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, Miss. Y/l/n" he chuckles softly. "Don't make a big deal out of it. After all, I'm not much older than you, am I? Shouldn't be so wrong to have an opinion about my looking".

He was taking it so calmly that you couldn't believe. Maybe he was right, maybe it wasn't a big deal. Or maybe he was so used to having girls head over heels for him that it didn't get on his nerves anymore.

You sigh and decide to agree better than discuss anything and make more shame on yourself. "Anyways, I just wanted you to know that-"

"Mr. Holland?"

A voice interrupt him, and you turn your head abruptly to see another professor standing in the door frame, a case on his hand, eyes going between both of you. "Sorry for interrupting, but I'm giving my next lesson here. Is it taking too long, or...?"

"Oh, no", Mr. Holland smiled fondly and stood up, gathering his things from the desk. "Pardon me, didn't realize it was so late. Miss y/l/n, do you have any more questions left?"

You narrow your eyes at him, a bit taken aback as you knew you weren't making any questions seconds prior. He was lying, lying about the reason why the two of you were stuck in his classroom for so long. So you just nodded back and corrected your face.

"No, I'm fine, Sir. Thanks for your time" you smiled a little before turning in your heels.

The other man entered the class and started to put his things above the table, with Mr. Holland beside him. You were about to step out of the room when you hear your professor talking to you.

"Oh, and Miss. Y/l/n?" You turned your head to look at him again. He smiled. "It'd be lovely if you rewrite that essay. You can pass by my office later to show me your corrections, if you want to".

You blink, too surprised to answer right away. With a pounding heart on your chest, you nod, wishing nothing but to work on that useless essay as soon as possible.

____________

The day passes quickly, your mind too occupied with your essay. Missing some of your later classes, you saved time to stay until 6pm in the library, trying to come out with the of your writing whilst correcting the mistakes Mr. Holland pointed for you.

Certainly, that was the most dedicated you've ever been for a work.

But you couldn't resist the anxiety running through your body as you thought about walking down that aisle in the Professor Holland's office direction.

Again, you weren't expecting anything beyond him reading your text again, but the thought of seeing him alone one time was exciting itself.

You finish your work and put the paper inside a case, gathering everything together and walking straight to the aisle of English department.

It was empty and quiet, not a sight of any students neither professors around, as it was past the last lectures for the day.

Taking a few good breathes, you smooth your hand down your skirt before knocking softly on Professor Holland office's door.

"Come in!"

You turn the handle and open the door, closing it behind you. Mr. Holland looked tired, eyes heavy under his glasses. He also seemed busy, reading a book and taking his notes.

"Oh, Miss Y/l/n", he smiles warmly when his eyes lift to your face, waving a hand for you to take a seat in front of his desk. "Glad to see you. I suppose you made the corrections on your essay?"

You smile and nod, sitting down before reaching your paper in your backpack. "I added some other points I thought about when reading again", you hand him your essay and he takes it, fingers touching yours briefly, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Great" he looked over the paper, reading more cautiously at some point in the middle, where the biggest changes were made. He seemed impressed with your work and you couldn't help but feel the euphoria by each time the curve of his lips seemed to form a smile.

You looked over his office. It was small, but enough for one person only. There was a shelf full of books and a pretty tiny table across the room, cups, water and what you assumed to be tea inside a bottle on top of that.

"It's really cozy here" you speak out loud, more to yourself, wandering and picturing Mr. Holland sitting beside his little table and taking his tea while reading one of the shelf's book.

He smiles, lifting his glance from the paper to your face, which was still looking around. "You like it?"

You blink a few times before answering, a bit embarrassed that he caught your vague comment. "Yeah". His face held nothing but a contemplating look. "It must feel really good to have an office all to yourself".

Mr. Holland laughs quietly. "I don't spend too much time here to appreciate that much, actually", he admits. "Most of my time in the building is spent in classrooms and I pretty much like taking my work home, so... But, yes, it's good".

"I'd like it. Y'know, having somewhere you can take a time off and even have lunch when everywhere else is so full of people". You make your point, shrugging.

Something crosses Mr. Holland's face, but he quickly make it disappear.

"Well", he says, looking at your essay again after clearing his throat. "I like it very much. Not a single mistake this time. I can say properly now that this is the best essay I received for last week's work".

You smile widely. "Thank you, Mr. Holland".

He look up at your again, a small and hesitating smile on his lips. "You can call me Tom", when you open your mouth and say anything, he continues, "If you want. Mr. Holland just makes me feel so old".

You laugh at his grimace. "Oh, you're nothing near old, no worry on that".

Tom smiles more freely, if not smugly, and you feel your cheeks darkening in pink.

"Yeah, you think I'm... a handsome man, right?" He teases you and for a moment, it's not like your formal and professional professor is the one in the room anymore. You smiles sheepishly, bitting your lips to try to contain it.

"I'm sorry for that again", you shake your head, but Tom whines.

"If you don't stop with your apologies, I'm going to give you another essay to write". He says playfully. "I'm just joking, y/n".

Hearing your first name coming out of his mouth warms your heart and you feel like exploding in excitement.

"Wouldn't be such a punishment, I think" you admit, looking to your hands.

Tom narrows his eyes, corner of his mouth raising in a smile again. "And why is that?"

You bite your lower lips, pressing your fingers in the palm of your hand nervously as you think about what you're saying next, "Well, if it meant I'd have to come here to show you, I'd gladly write one".

Tom takes your answer slowly, smile growing on his face and he chuckles softly. "Really?"

"Yeah", you nod.

Tom stares at you for the following seconds and it's just as when you glance at the clock in his desk that yiu realize you've spent too much time inside his office.

"I think I gotta go now", you say, standing up and picking your backpack and essay. It wouldn't look good a student getting out of a professor's office so late in the night.

Tom smiled sadly and got up too, watching as you made your way to the door. But before you could open it, you remembered you last talk in the classroom.

"Tom?" You tested the name on your lips, savoring the liberty he had just given to you. He looked at you, waiting. "What was it you were going to say before that professor entered the classroom?"

He took a few seconds thinking and then a trace of a small smile came to his features.

"I was just going to say that I appreciate your compliment" he licks his lips and you smile. "Also, that you should know I think you're pretty gorgeous too".

#tom holland #tom holland blurbs #professor!tom #prof!tom #professor!tom x reader #tom x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland imagines

[tinyboxxtink]

"Weird Secret Friends" *Chapter 11*

Chapter 10

Chapter 12

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Alright this one is kinda short but I needed a cliffhanger, and I need to get to fifteen now. Also, I had to write the ending of this in the car and it's difficult so I ended it where I did. Plus I love watching y'all squirm. SUFFER.

----------------------

Rafael hadn’t texted you back since you told him you didn’t care whether he believed you or not, maybe he had gotten the hint and decided to leave you alone. Why didn’t that make you feel any better? You knew what you had told Sonny was true; you couldn’t be in any kind of relationship with anyone but alcohol. 

You’d never admit it to Sonny since he was so proud of you lately, but the monster inside you may be present more than you let on. It wasn’t big things that set you off sometimes, sometimes it was just one bad grade on a test, or being lonely. 

You knew you needed to reach out to someone, anyone other than Sonny. Get some friends of your own, people you could talk to. But you were too ashamed of your problems and your life to ever approach anyone. Even when students in your class would ask you to go out with them after school, you’d always decline in fear of what you might do while you were out. You could keep yourself from having more than one drink on your own, but the social pressure of being around other people drinking made you just want to keep going. And you knew where that led. Where it always led. 

You had kept the monster at bay for so long, it was exhausting most days. And now that you had fed it and let it loose, you were too tired to even try and reign it back in. So here you were, practically unable to move from being so sick from drinking fucking mouthwash rather than ride out your cravings. 

You looked up at the sky and began to pray for God to just take you right there and then, just so you would have to stop feeling like this. Not just physically ill, but completely devastated and heartbroken that the one time you had ever opened yourself to someone, opened yourself to love, the monster inside you killed it. Just like it killed everything. Now you just wanted it to kill you. You were just about to grab some pure rubbing alcohol from under your bathroom sink to drink, you knew it was lethal if you drank about a capful. You had it up to your lips when you heard a banging on your front door.

“Y/N! Y/N open this door!” 

Were you still that fucked up or was that actually Rafael banging on your door? No, it couldn’t be. Could it? You decided it was worth at least checking, if you had hallucinated it you could always come back to the bathroom. You forced yourself to stand up and hobbled towards your front door, still afraid to open it. If it really was him, you didn’t want him to see you like this. Your t-shirt was covered in bright green vomit stains, your hair was messy from puking, your hadn’t checked but you figured your face was probably disgusting. 

“...I’m not home!” The words came out before your sense kicked in to tell you that was literally the most idiotic thing you could say. Clearly he’d know you were fucked up now.

“I’m not kidding! I’ll break down this door, I swear to God,” His voice was angrier than you’d ever heard him. Well, that wasn’t saying much considering you hadn’t known him that long but still. 

“Uh...okay, just a second!” You called nervously, doing your best to quickly change your shirt and fix your hair. 

You grabbed a semi clean t-shirt laying on your couch and threw your hair up in a messy ponytail, wiping the dried vomit and drool from your face. You glanced in the mirror, you looked messy but just messy enough you were pretty sure you could pull off “I’m emotionally destroyed because of you” not “I’m totally trashed and fucked in the head because of you,” You tried walking as straight as you could to the door and softly opened it a bit, not letting him inside.

“Hey…” You gave him a sheepish smile. Wait, weren’t you supposed to be mad at him? Don’t act nice now just because you’re trying to act sober. 

“I mean...that’s a pretty lively looking corpse there, counselor,” You smirked. 

“...What?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Weren’t you the one who said you’d never be caught dead in Jersey?” You smirked harder. Damn, even when you were on the verge of dying you were smooth.

“Let me in,” Rafael said flatly. 

“Uh, no,” You said mockingly. 

“Let me in,” He repeated more sternly. 

“Do you have a warrant?” You asked with an amused smile. 

“Dammit Y/N don’t make me shove this door open,” 

“Oh okay so now you’re threatening to break into my apartment? Why don’t you yell that a little louder, maybe my neighbor will call the cops,” You yelled at him while gesturing down the hall. 

“...Please let me in?” His voice lowered, his eyes softened. You were a sucker for those eyes, no matter how mad or worried about appearances you were.

“...Fine,” You sighed and released your hold on the door and walked away quickly to sit on the couch. You didn’t want him to realize you couldn’t stand without holding onto something. 

“Fuck, I knew it…” He muttered as he glanced around your apartment, then focused on you.

“Knew what?” You crossed your arms, playing it cool. 

“You’re drunk right now, aren’t you?” He looked at you pitifully, not livid like he was a minute ago. 

“What?” You kept your composure. “Uh, I’m sorry Rafael, do you see any empty bottles here? Any FULL bottles for that matter?” You gestured around your apartment while acting offended he would even think that.

“My dad was an alcoholic, Y/N,” He said softly which made you angrier, why was he doing this? 

“Um okay, so that has to do with me why--?”

“Tell me right now if I smelled your breath that it wouldn’t be overwhelmingly ‘clean’,” He talked over you.

“....What?” You blinked, trying desperately to act oblivious. 

Fuck, why did he know that was a thing? Well, obviously he just said it. If you weren’t so angry or out of your mind right now, you’d feel absolutely terrible for being like this around him now that you knew he’d been through this before.

“So it’s a crime to have dental hygiene now?” You smarmed.

“Dammit Y/N I know what you’re doing!” Now he was getting angry again, he couldn’t stand that you weren’t taking this seriously. He couldn’t stand watching another person he cared about completely shit faced in front of him, acting as if he was the one in the wrong. 

“And what am I doing, Rafael?”

“Sonny might be naïve, but I know what it looks like when an alcoholic is hiding their drinking!” He accused you.

“God dammit…” you muttered. 

So many things were buzzing in your head at that moment. One you now felt ashamed that he was seeing you like this, two you were upset that he knew all your tricks, and finally you were somewhat happy and hopeful that he cared enough to come for you. 

“Did you have an actual reason for coming over here, or did Sonny just send you to lecture me because he’s tired of doing it?”

“...Can you drink some coffee or something?” 

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “Why?” 

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” 

“What? Oh suddenly I must be out of my mind trashed because I’m mad at you? Guess what Barba, this is 100% snarky sober me,” You lied. 

“Mad at me?” He laughed. “Why in God’s name are you mad at me?!” 

“After the way you treated me--”

“The way I treated you?!” He cut you off angrily. “I treated you with nothing but caring and respect, Y/N. Even after you sat there in my apartment throwing a temper tantrum like a petulant drunken toddler!” 

“You--” You were livid at him calling you a toddler.

“Just because Sonny told you what I usually act like towards-- lovers, doesn’t make it true with you. Did I ever, ever act like you were some ‘conquest’?” He asked you.

“...No,” You bit your lip nervously.

“Did I ever make you feel cheap, or unwanted?”

“No…” You looked at the floor.

“Didn’t I tell you that you were different, that you meant something to me?”  He gave you a sad look, as if he was crushed that you didn't believe in him.

“But how do I know that wasn’t just a line?!” You protested.

“Because I’m here!” He gestured around your apartment. 

“And why are you here?” You pressed him.

“I don’t know!” He put his hands over his head.

“...That’s not an answer,”  You crossed your arms.

“It’s the only answer I can give you, Y/N,” He finally sat down next to you on the couch. 

You curled up your knees to your chest instinctively, still trying to hide your inebriation and the smell of your breath; even though you knew it was futile at this point.

“So, you come all the way here to bang on my door and yell at me, but you have no idea why?” You continued to be defensive, trying to keep him off your scent.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N? Huh?” He threw up his hands. 

“Do you want me to say it’s because I’m in love with you? Because for the first time in my life I found someone that I want to be with all the time, because you make me the happiest I’ve been in a long time, maybe ever?” 

“Uh no,” You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t ask you to lie,” 

“...I’m not lying,”  He looked at you very seriously, trying to take your hand.

“Yes, you are,” You shook your head and pulled away from him. “In fact I know exactly why you’re here,”

“....What is happening right now?” Rafael asked himself softly. He had just sat there and poured out his heart to you, and you were dismissing him completely. This is exactly why he should have just let you be.

“What’s happening, is that you-- you feel bad that you couldn’t... I don’t know, ‘deal’ with your Daddy issues," You air quoted Daddy, making him shift uncomfortably.

"That is so--" He tried denying it.

"True?" You gave him a look. "Let me guess, you couldn't 'save' him as a kid, right?"

"...That wasn't on me," He muttered, looking at the floor.

"You don't believe that," you scoffed. "I know you don't."

"And how do you know that?" He looked at you skeptically.

"Because I feel like I failed my parents, and they were the shittiest people on earth!" You exclaimed.

"How did you fail them? You weren't even--"

"By being born, Raff," You clarified.

"Carino, don't--"

"Look, my point is you've got this 'white knight syndrome', but you know what I learned? You can't save everyone, so you shouldn't even try,"

"That's a great philosophy," he scoffed. "So you don't even try?'

"Oh fuck off," You rolled your eyes. "I can't even save myself, let alone anyone else,"

"That's not true," he protested. "You saved me,"

"Oh my god," you made a fake gagging noise. "You're just saying that so it'll appease some kind of guilt,"

"I have zero to feel guilty about," he shook his head. For some reason that made you even angrier. 

"Alright well good! So you can leave,"  You pointed towards the door.

"No I'm not leaving, not until you acknowledge what I said," He crossed his arms.

"What? About you being in love with me?" You scoffed. "I told you that's a load of shit."

"And why do you say that?" He asked.

"For one, because you don't fall in love with someone just because they're good in bed," you gave him a look.

"That's not why--"

"And for two, nobody can be in love with a monster," You finished over him.

"You're not a monster--" he tried pulling you towards him but you stood up.

"Yes I am!" You screamed.

Well that was a bad idea. All of a sudden it was as if the chemicals from the mouthwash were sizzling around your insides. You doubled over in pain, the room was going dark. 

"Y/N? Oh my god, baby hold on--" he grabbed you and pulled you into his lap while he dialed 911.

"It's okay, you're okay...just...just hold on, please…" he pleaded with you while stoking your hair and kissing the top of your head, gripping you as if you were going to disappear if he let up.

That was the last thing you heard before everything went black.

#rafael barba #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #weird secret friends

[silverarmedassassin]

Please, Mr. Barnes

CEO!Bucky x Reader | NSFW, 18+ only please | 2163 words | Masterlist

You’ve just started a new job as the executive secretary to the one and only James “Bucky” Barnes - founder, owner, and leader of Barnes Bionics, the most successful prosthetics companies in North America. Everything is going smooth until your royally fuck up and Bucky is forced to punish you the only way he knows how...

Warning: Like I mentioned above, 18+ only, please! There’s a little tongue action here, some spanking there. Nothing explicit but, ya know.

Note: Listen, despite consuming more than my fair share of smut, I’ve never actually wrote anything remotely smutty, so this is very new to me. Please be nice 😭 I was inspired after seeing this post, where I accidently went off in the tags because I was feeling some kind of way. I’m also dedicating this to @wonderlandmind4​, because they called me out on my shit 😅 Enjoy!

To say you fucked up is an understatement. Forgetting to send an email is fucking up. Forgetting to water the plant’s in your boss’s office is fucking up. But this? This is a next level, idiotic, you-deserve-to-be-fired mess. And you haven’t even been here a full week.

You started at Barnes Bionics as an executive assistant to the CEO. You’d heard great things about the company - the relaxed and family-like corporate atmosphere, casual Fridays, and the down-to-earth, laid-back James Barnes, aka the founder, owner, and leader of the most successful prosthetics company in North America - and were eager to start your new position. Not only was it going to be a significant pay raise, but it was also going to give you a change of pace. You’d struggled for so long to find a position that would help boost your career, so when your best friend informed you she was stepping down from her assistant position to stay home with her soon-to-be-born daughter, you were ecstatic.

Except right now, on this bright and warm Friday afternoon, you wanted to be anywhere but your desk on the 90th floor of the One World Trade Center Building. While the executive offices began to empty, your new co-workers filing out in clumps, chatting excitedly about their weekend plans, you sat impatiently behind your desk, trying to make yourself as small as you could.

Earlier in the day, right after you returned from lunch, an email from James popped up on your screen. “Plan to stay after this evening,” was all you could read from the preview. In naive, blissful ignorance, butterflies erupted deep in your belly. Your boss was attractive. He looked like he could be sculpted from marble with the way his muscles strained against his smartly pressed button-downs, and the slight clench in his jaw when he’s concentrating on something was mesmerizing. The giddy feeling quickly dissipated, however, as you continued reading.

“I received a strongly worded voicemail from a distraught Tony Stark this morning. Asked why I’d waste his time by not showing up to a meeting that, the last time I checked my calendar, is scheduled for next week. I should be back at the office at 5:15. I expect you to be prepared for a one-on-one meeting before then.”

Your eyes flick to the small clock in the corner of your computer screen, and your stomach feels like it’s wrapped itself into a constrictor knot. 5:12. If your boss was anything, it’s punctual. As Sam Wilson, Barnes Bionics’ chief operations officer, closes his office up, the elevators just down the hall ding, signaling their arrival.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Sam laughs as he laughs before departing with a jaunty farewell.

You hear the two men exchange the usual pleasantries, the elevators shut, then the ominous echos of James loafers meeting the polished marble floor. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves, but as soon as he beckons you to follow him into his office as he passes your desk, you actually think you’re going to throw up.

“Mr. Barnes, I’m so sorry I-”

He holds his hand up to silence you as he leans back against his large mahogany desk and uses his free hand - the metal one, that one that started this entire company - to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You realize Tony Stark is one of my biggest investors, right?”

You open your mouth to answer, but he fixes you with a rather threatening, so you simply nod and look down at your heel-covered feet. He’s going to fire me, you think as you wait for him to continue with his lecture. I haven’t even received my first paycheck, and I’m getting canned.

“You could have cost me a lot of money today, Ms. Y/L/N.” He pushes off his desk and slowly makes his way to where you stand just inside his spacious office. “There is no room for such vital mistakes like the one you made in this industry. I didn’t build this company from the ground up by missing meetings with the men and women who fund our research. I didn’t become one of the world's leading tech companies by allowing my assistants to make careless mistakes and piss off my partners.”

“Mr. Barnes, please,” you beg. God, you sound so pathetic, but you really don’t want to lose this job. And the fact that you messed up so bad within the first week of being employed at Barnes Biotics is embarrassing, a total misrepresentation of how organized and punctual you usually are when it comes to the workplace. “I...I’m trying really hard, there’s just so much to learn in such little time and I...I don’t know what happened.. I’ve never made a mistake like this before, and I never will again. Please, you don’t understand how much I need this job. I’ll do anything, I’ll work overtime without pay. Please…”

“Fire you?” James snorts as he stops in front of you. He’s so close you can smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off his broad chest. “Oh, honey, I’m not going to fire you. But mistakes do come with consequences.”

You force yourself to look up at him. The anger and pure disappointment you expect to find on his face is surprisingly absent. In its place is something a little darker, dare you say a bit lustful. His powder blue eyes are almost covered with the black of his pupil, and a little smirk is playing in the corner of his lips.

“Go stand by the desk,” he commands. You go to question him, but he tuts his tongue. “Go on. You know how impatient I can be.”

Confused, you slowly make your way across the room, stopping in the space he had just been occupying. You’re about to turn around when two large arms around you. James’ metal hand settles on your lower stomach as his other arm wraps around your shoulder.

“Do you know,” he says, hot breath fanning across your exposed neck, “what happens to bad girls?”

You swallow thickly before you answer. “Uhm, no, Mr. Barnes.”

“They get punished.” Before you realize what’s going on, James pushes you forward onto his desk so that your bent over the top, his muscular torso resting gently across your back. Gently, almost agonizingly slow, he begins to drag his metal arm across your stomach, around until it’s just barely resting on your ass. “You’ve gotta tell me you want this, or I’ll stop,” he whispers. “But I’ve seen the way you look at me. I think you want this as bad as I do.”

“God, yes, please, Mr. Barnes!”

The words have hardly slipped past your lips before he’s bunching up your skirt and nudging at your panties. You should feel ashamed, you think, at how wet you already are at the simple action, but by god did you touch yourself thinking of this man.

“Soaked already,” he practically purrs as he teases at your entrance. Before you can get too much enjoyment from the sensation, he quickly pulls his hand away. “But you still fucked up. Still almost cost me millions. I need you to know,” he says as he eases himself from on top of you, keeping one hand pressed gently to the center of your back and the other resting on one of your exposed cheeks, “how bad that could have been.”

Before your brain can register what is happening, James’ palm connects to your asscheek with a loud smack. You jump, having been unprepared for the assault. Just as quickly as the last, his palm connects to your ass two more times before he is rubbing the sore spot in soothing circles.

This was...different. Never mind the fact your boss of five fucking days has you bent over his desk, ass and pussy exposed for all to see, but it was actually turning you more on. Spanking had never been something you’d thought of when it came to sex, something you probably wouldn’t have even considered with past lovers. But with James, it just felt right.

“No more silly mistakes like that, okay?” he whispers softly in your ear as he continues to rub your now burning cheek. “Or I’ll have to do this again.”

Smack. Smack. Smack.

A wanton moan drips from your lips after the last swat, and you’d be embarrassed if your boss wasn’t spinning your dazed body around, shoving the miscellaneous papers away to clear a spot for your to sit. You watch in stunned as he slowly lowers himself to the floor in front of you, lust-filled eyes never leaving yours.

“Something tells me you might like that, though,” James smiles as he grabs your ankle and carves a path of gentle kisses up to your skirt's hem. Both hands slid the material up your thighs, providing a peculiar sensation of both warm skin and cold metal at the same time. His metal fingers brush ever so slightly at your still-exposed bundle of nerves, and he smirks at the gasp it pulls from you.

“Would you like that, Y/N,” he asks, planting a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Because I know I would.”

He quickly buries his face between your legs, first with a flat-tongued swipe up your pussy before he begins to suck on your clit. The heat of his tongue, mixed with the shallows breaths he takes between sucking and lapping, causes your blood to run cold and the coil in your belly to twist so tight you’re sure it’s going to snap any second.

“Please, Mr. Barnes. Fuck,” you exclaim louder than intended, and you’re suddenly very aware of where you are. You can’t seem to find the thought to care, however, not with James drinking you in like a man just returned from the desert. He responds to your cries of satisfaction with a light bite to your clit.

As slides down, he tongues at your entrance, his nose applies just enough pressure to your clit to send you reeling. Your hands land in his perfectly styled hair, pushing and pulling at the chesnut stands as he helps you ride out the intense waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

As you begin to settle, James plants small kisses here and there on both your thighs before pulling away. He looks up at you, your juices glistening on his lips and the slight stubble of his beard. He looks as fucked out as you feel, and it makes you slightly self-conscious of what you must look like. He licks his lips and hums quietly, causing another jolt of want to rush straight to your core.

“You taste as good as you look,” he smiles and stands. When he’s back to his full height, he reaches a hand out to help you off his desk. You can’t help but catch the noticeable bulge straining at his slacks, and he must see your quick glance because he laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.,” he says, bringing his hand to his lips before making his way around to sit at his desk.

You left standing there, in the middle of an office whose furnishes cost more than your entire year’s rent, fucked out and in shock at what just happened. You don’t know how long you stand frozen, eyes fixated on a vintage Brookly Dodgers poster, but a deep chuckle and the rustling of papers draws you out of your trance.

You turn to find James straightening up the papers he had shoved out of the way, and cleaning up the pen holder must have spilled. You stagger forward, hands out ready to help your boss clean up the mess, but he simply waves you off.

“I hope you didn’t have any plans after work,” James says sheepishly, almost sounding guilty for keeping you over. Almost.

“No,” you say as you anxiously rub at your arm. “Just your average, boring Friday night.”

“Well, I hope I added a little fun to help kick off the weekend.”

You can feel your face heat up as you nod. He winks before turning back to tidying his desk, and you take that as your cue to take your leave. You scurry across the room quickly, and right as your hand touches the door, James stops you.

“By the way, great job on your first week. I was more productive than I’ve been in years thanks to your organization. I really appreciate it.”

You smile, face heating up even more. You take the compliment to heart, bathe in the way it fills you with pride. “Thank you, Mr. Barnes.”

“Hey, uh, call me Bucky. Mr. Barnes or James or whatever is too impersonal, and I think we’re well past that stage.”

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x female reader #James barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #James barnes x you #ceo!bucky #ceo AU #marvel x reader #marvel x you #Bucky Barnes fanfic #marvel fanfic #the winter soldier fanifc #marvel au #Bucky Barnes au #silverarmedassassin writes

[seaswalllow]

okay so letters from l'manberg did Not get posted, but let's run west did so! i'm giving that to y'all instead. pounded out ~2.5k words and this is the result for a songfic competition :P

inspired by west by radical face

link to the ao3 fic in the notes

i.

“You know,” Tommy grouses, “I can't see a thing with my hair all in my eyes.” Tubbo just laughs at him, while Niki hides a gentle smile behind her hands.

Jack rolls upright, and the crown of foxgloves tilts dangerously. There's a very dangerous way to how he’s puffing out a chest, a suggestion of I’m about to enter this argument and win and you’re not going to like it.

Eret has a sixth sense for when this trouble starts brewing, it seems. They scoot backwards, minding the cape slung haphazardly over their shoulder, and bump Niki to do the same, out of the line of fire.

“See, this is why short hair is superior. Your hair’s a sanitary hazard- actually, just a hazard all around.”

“You’re a hazard all around,” Tommy snaps back. He pushes the hair out of his eyes- and grumbles as it flops back in. This time, the titters around the group echo louder. Eret has the grace, at least, to hide their laugh behind their hand.

Tommy rounds on the nearest offender; Niki, as it happens, and backpedals as quickly as he starts when he sees the set to her hip. That’s a straight ticket to one of Niki’s I’m not mad, I’m disappointed, really, you can do better lectures and Tubbo still hasn’t let him live down nearly crying after that lecture. She's terrifying, okay? She’s terrifying, and he’s not ashamed to say that. (He’s told her that exactly once; she had laughed gently as she’d drawn a warm loaf of bread out of the furnace. She hadn’t contradicted him, though. So: no thank you.)

Jack is next in his line of fire.

“What’re you laughing at? ‘least I’ve got hair to impress the ladies with- oh, have you seen Tommy Innit’s hairs? luscious, luscious locks, look, healthier than me!”

“The ladies like my hair,” Jack protests. “Makes him right spiffy, they do say, right spiffy and proper; that Tommy Innit looks like a hooligan who’s just crawled out of the woods. Jack Manifold- now that’s a man of esteem and grace.

“Esteem, grace, oh what lovely qualities,” Tommy parrots back in a voice pitched four tones too high. “They look at you and say oh my, where has his honour gone? He’s got none, just a patchy head of fuzz and glasses that look like they’ve just been dug out of the bin-”

“You take that back- these glasses are top of the line-” Jack’s hauling himself up, and Tommy’s squaring his shoulders, and Tubbo’s laughing hard enough to be doubled over in the grass, despite the gentle shove from Niki and the cautious look from Eret. He’ll get to Tubbo next- it’s not like his hair is much better, kept out of his eyes only by sheer force of will.

They get to about three steps within each other when Wilbur's voice cuts through the argument.

“What's all this, then?” Tubbo's still choking down his laughter, and Jack's sputtering something about high tech, and they’re all really being incredibly useless, so Tommy asserts himself as the loudest. (And most correct. Obviously.)

“Jack Manifold is insulting the honour of my hair,” he proclaims, drawing himself up. Chest out, shoulders back, head high- just like they were taught.

Wilbur must notice this, because he musses Tommy’s hair gently, not a minute later. Or maybe it’s to prove a point, because it falls back over his eyes, to Wilbur's laugh. Traitor.

“There's enough here to make a shag carpet, Tommy. I don't know if he’s wrong.”

Tommy folds his arms, and- okay, he doesn’t pout. He just… lets his face settle into something more disgruntled.

“I've had bigger things on my mind. things like incredibly important-” incredibly important wars, he realizes he was going to say, moments before the words spill out of his mouth. There’s a line of tension in Eret’s shoulders where there wasn’t before.

He clamps his mouth shut.

“I’ve just been busy, and so have you, and you’re the only one who knows how to get our trim decently,” he finishes.

Around Wilbur's eyes, the exhaustion softens.

“C’mon, Tommy.” Wilbur gestures to a nearby chair, dragged out to the shade. “Sit down, we’ll trim it up to something more respectable.”

Tommy squints at him. He's not sure if the effect comes across the same way, obscured as it is. Which- may be proving Wilbur’s point. Damn it.

Begrudgingly, he slinks over to the chair of shame, letting his steps fall a bit heavier. Niki pats his knee gently, while Eret calls over to Wilbur. “You might need to do Tubbo’s next. goat boy’s going to start bumping into things.”

“I’ll just go around the circle,'' Wilbur laughs. “We all need a little trim and care.”

Reaching up to poke at the curls hanging around Wilbur's face, Tommy arches an eyebrow. “Are you planning to cut your own hair?”

Wilbur waves a hand, before he takes up his position behind Tommy. His fingers are gentle as he sorts through the long mess, a soft snick echoing as he starts cutting away at it.

It's a familiar sound, and Tommy lets himself relax as Wilbur continues combing through the tangles.

“It’s not the first time I would've done that. I can take care of myself too.”

“Doubtful,” Tommy huffs at the same time as Eret murmurs. “That's what they all say, don’t they?”

Wilbur pauses in his actions. Tommy darts a peek at Eret underneath his hair. Niki and Tubbo, engrossed in their debate with Jack, aren’t paying too much attention, but niki sends a fleeting, if concerned look, their way.

They’re technically not wrong. Wilbur can roll his shoulders back and step with military, practiced precision, and it won’t hide the bruises under his eyes that grow by day.

It won’t hide the ever-lengthening shadows on his face, the ink-stains on his fingers that never seem to wash out.

But if Wilbur says not to worry about it- well. There's already a lot on their plate. He knows what he’s doing.

(Right?)

(Right.)

So Tommy squares his shoulders and grins at Eret. “He's a disaster, isn’t he?”

Eret hardly smiles at that. Niki, Jack, Tubbo- they’re all listening now. Tubbo meets his eyes, and sits up fully, rolling his eyes. Silently, Tommy thanks prime.

“There’s a saying about glass houses,” he begins, and Tommy splutters, retracting any and all thanks.

“Oh, don’t you go pulling out the wise shit on me now- I’ll have you know I’m the best around here at-”

“At raising the disaster rates? Yes, yes you are.”

“You’re lucky I'm stuck on this chair,” Tommy points threateningly at Tubbo. “when I’m off of it-”

Tubbo simply pulls out a sword with the same shit-eating grin. “You’ll give me the beating stick?”

“You’ll wish you had the beating stick.” With that lovely parting line, he sticks out his tongue, only to immediately hiss and spit into the grass to the side. Jack cackles.

“Shouldn’t have opened your mouth while your bird’s nest was getting cut!”

“Oh, you-” Wilbur clamps a hand on Tommy's shoulder. He stills immediately.

“Stop wriggling. Your hair doesn’t need to get any worse.”

Tommy narrows his eyes in Wilbur's general direction, but he does settle down. The tension’s dissipated- somewhat, at least. They should be okay.

(Later, he’ll look back. He’ll wonder what Eret saw before them; he’ll wonder if it was the sleepless nights, or the way that Wilbur shies away from a blade outside of dinners and nights reserved for haircuts. He'll wonder if it’s the ashes of letters that pile, and pile.

He’ll wonder if that’s what scared Eret away, and goaded him into lacing the very ground that they had rolled in a play fight on just days earlier.

When he hears it was never meant to be, he’ll wonder if it was a threat. Later, he’ll understand it was the writing littered on crumbling walls. But for now, they sit, and they laugh, on the home that they built.)

ii.

There is, quite simply put, too much happening.

Tubbo sits to his side, kicking his feet over the ledge; Tommy’s insisted they both sit by a railing to hold onto, one of the few that they’ve diverted Wilbur's attention from.

Below them, the ravine buzzes.

Techno is not in the farm- hasn’t been for a bit, in fact. This is the first they’ve seen him around Pogtopia in days.

He's facing Wilbur, in the far corner. Tommy doesn’t take his eyes off of him, while Tubbo nudges him, attention elsewhere.

“Fundy’s arguing with Quackity in the corner,” he mutters. “Think they know something about the Schlatt situation?”

Tommy spares the two a quick look. Fundy's ears are pinned flat against his head; quackity’s eyes are obscured by his sunglasses, but even his printed smile seems strained.

“Could be worth checking out,” Tubbo presses.

“I’m more worried about whatever those two have going on in the corner,” Tommy says tersely. “Wilbur’s not in his right fucking mind as is- and Techno’s not good fucking company.”

“nobody here is,” Tubbo replies, and doesn’t elaborate.

Which is. just fucking great, honestly. Everybody here is either stressed out of their mind, scared out of their mind, or both. This is fine. This is fine.

He forces out a noisy breath that does nothing to calm his racing heart.

“It won’t matter in a few hours,” Tubbo finally adds. “The waiting’s the worst part.”

Tommy forces the image of Tubbo staring down the crossbow, waiting, out of his head, and folds his arms.

“It’s the aftermath that sucks the most, innit?”

“Not really. By then, it’s happened. You can’t change it. There’s no what-ifs. You just move forward. You can’t move while you’re waiting.”

Can they stop with the fucking metaphors?

He works his jaw free from where he’s clenched it tight enough to crack a tooth.

“Think Schlatt’s going to pussy out of it?”

“No.”

Of course it can’t be that easy.

Tubbo leans back, mindful of the bandages winding up his arms. He keeps an ear tilted towards Tommy.

“It depends on how much we corner him,” he amends.

“If he can run to preserve himself? He will. If it’s a last stand? He’ll take us down with him.”

Plant his feet and lower his head for the charge. Great. Just what they fucking need, with Wilbur ready to plant the button, and a trigger-happy anarchist.

Is this how Wilbur felt? ready to scream ‘til his voice cracked, as it kept piling? Tubbo, as schlatt got louder and angrier?

He hates it, honestly.

“Great. So we don’t give him a chance to do either.”

“Easier said than done.” There’s a thoughtfulness to Tubbo’s voice. “Doable, though. The night of- you didn’t see him. If Wilbur’s a mess… Schlatt’s not better.”

Tommy cuts a sideways look. Tubbo's still staring down, not a single emotion escaping the neutrality he’s plastered across his expression.

They’ve all gotten rather good at their masks. Some more than others.

“Hardly coherent. Passed out on the speech he was writing.”

Making a face, Tommy scoots back to fold his legs upon the ledge as well.

“That place sounded like it reeked. It lingered on you for ages.”

“You get used to it,” Tubbo replies. “You get used to a lot of things.”

Down below, someone’s raised their voice. Judging by the stuttering speech- they both swing to look as Wilbur’s voice bounces off of the walls.

A summons, then.

“Time already?”

“Techno said he had something to show us, before… before.”

Tubbo’s expression doesn’t change. Tommy doesn’t need it to, as he watches Tubbo’s ears carefully press against his head before forcibly relaxing again.

He makes sure he steps first into the vault.

Takes the first step towards Schlatt.

(it still doesn’t matter in the end.

it was never meant to be, a sovereign once said.

Tommy’s beginning to think it was an apology.)

iii.

“You know,” Tubbo says. “This would be L'manberg's last life.” He laughs a little as he says this; Tommy can't bring himself to laugh with him, the words sour on his tongue.

They've always held themselves differently.

Tubbo laughs even as he aches, shrugs it off while he bleeds.

Tommy rages, and he rages loudly. He grieves- though he grieves quieter, holds on to his hurt tight enough to bleed.

They have that in common, he guesses.

“You sound like you're already burying it,” he settles on. Tubbo slants a sideways look at him. The fringe of hair curling around his face isn't obscuring his eyes yet; Tommy catches every sharp thought flicking through Tubbo's eyes, and a few that he doesn't know how to read yet.

(This concept of unfamiliarity sits awkwardly in his hands; he's not sure how to hold its weight, so he sets it aside. He can't help but pick at the splinters that it leaves behind.)

“I'm preparing to,” he says simply. He doesn't have to say why. The angel's shadow hangs heavy on their doorstep. So efficient. So practiced. The memory of building their country's coffin lies engraved in their muscles. They sing its funeral hymn in their sleep.

“You're killing it before it's had a chance.”

Tubbo doesn't answer.

A whetstone passes over the sword glittering in his lap once, then twice more. Tommy turns back towards the grid hanging over them.

“Like Schlatt? Or like Wilbur?” Tommy flinches, unexpectedness slamming bodily into shame, a full-body reaction that unbalances him from where he's kicking his feet over the dock's edge; he pulls himself back.

Out of neglect, or out of fear? Do you think it’s because I never understood what L'manberg stood for to us, not like you did? Or because I was too afraid to hope, and look what that did to us, Tubbo doesn't say- or maybe Tommy's just filling in the blanks with fear and a memory of two exiles.

Maybe Tubbo really does just sound tired. Maybe they're all just tired. He swallows hard, and this time reaches out first, to bump Tubbo on the shoulder.

He forces out a breath, and forces them out of his head.

“You were better than either of those two bastards ever were.” Tubbo only raises an eyebrow at him.

He doesn't argue, though, and so they sit. Axe at Tommy's side, sword in Tubbo's hands.

At midnight, the angel's- the blood god's- the smiling god's- hounds bay, a resounding death knell. At midnight, the angel's wings darken their skies.

“It’s not- it’s not dawn,” Tommy shouts to empty air. Around them, the streets murmur, crescendoing to a wail as a wither, then another, then another barrels through their streets. “It’s too early! This isn’t fair!”

It’s too early.

They hadn’t said good-bye.

“This is war, Tommy,” the skies tell him. (At least they graced him with a reply, the tone suggests.) “War isn’t fair.”

None of this is fair. None of it was meant to be, none of it will be.

At dawn, the sun finds them at the bottom of L'manberg's grave.

(What do you do with a country taking its last breath?

You bury it where it can’t hurt.)

#dream smp #kit writes #tommyinnit #tubbo #wilbur soot #eret #nihachu #jack manifold #this fic was like. painful. im used to short oneshots not extended fics but i hope yall enjoy LOLOLOL #let's run west

[twokinkybeans]

Seven Inches - Starker Tailor!AU

Find it here on AO3

Wrote this piece for the lovely bean Lien for a very unplanned fic exchanged that somehow blew itself into existence! <3 She needed a tailor!au in her life. Well, here ya go sweetie!

Summary: Peter's hands are a little shaky as he wraps the tape measure around Tony’s chest and huffs a frustrated breath when the tips of his fingers slip past his ribcage. “Kid, it’s okay. You can touch me,” Tony smirks, clearly amused at Peter’s awkward attempts to avoid touching him.

-

Aside from being in college and keeping his neighborhood safe in the evening hours, Peter Parker works in May's Tailoring shop as a Tailor In Learning. One day, Tony Stark, Peter's all-time-favorite idol, sets foot in the shop. It doesn't take long for Peter to figure out Tony wants more than a suit.

---

Seven Inches

Peter hums along with the soft beat of Señorita as he hits the ‘send’ button for yet another order. The man that had been here earlier had wanted a special jacquard wedding suit. Peter loves tailoring wedding suits. Loves it when his customers have specific requests. In the end, they opted for a black tropical print as that matches the man’s dark slicked-back hair perfectly. The print is going to look perfect on the jacquard fabric and he can’t wait to see the end result of this particular piece. He hopes the man will love it but he feels pretty sure about this one. He glances at the clock behind him and smiles. Two more hours to kill before he gets to go home and finally play that new video game with Ned. His best friend had been bragging about for weeks in a row now. It’s hard balancing working in May’s shop, attending lectures, and studying to pass his exams and on top of that also being Spider-Man at night. Ned understands that Peter doesn’t have a lot of time to spend with him, but whenever they do it’s definitely some high-end quality time. 

Peter looks up startled at the jingling noise indicating that another customer has walked into the shop. Peter looks up from his clipboard and a smile immediately finds its way onto his face. After years of working in May’s shop, it has become an automatic reaction. A Pavlov reaction to the bell. Peter grins at the thought. “Good afternoon, Sir, welcome to-” Peter’s voice catches in his throat when he sees that the man is no one other than Mr. Tony Stark. He gulps and mentally kicks himself for his reaction. “-welcome to May’s Tailoring, how may I help you?” Mr. Stark sends him his characteristically charming smirk and doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he eyes at Peter, causing the boy’s cheeks to flush. “You’re not May Parker, are you?” Peter is dumbfounded for a moment until he spots the man’s playful demeanor and laughter bubbles up in his throat. He shakes his head sheepishly and relaxes. “No, Sir. Peter. Peter Parker. I work here every now and then.” “How convenient. You’re her son?” “Nephew.” “Fair, fair-” Tony teases and walks up to the counter, still eyeing him. “We must’ve missed each other the other times I’ve been here, I-”

“You’ve been here?” Peter blurts only then realizing his mistake. “I-I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to pry, I just-” Peter cuts himself off before he makes this situation even worse. He always told himself he’d act cool if he would ever meet his idol. Well, so far for keeping it casual. Mr. Stark must get this all the time and Peter wishes he’d been able to contain himself instead of exposing his inner fangirl from the very first second. Tony waves it off nonchalantly. “Don’t stress it, kid. I’m flattered.” He clears his throat to break the slight tension. “I need a new suit, obviously. Do you take measurements too or are you only in here for sales?” “No, no I do. Aren’t your measurements in our system already, Mr. S-” “No.” Peter cocks an eyebrow at the man and the billionaire rolls his eyes. “Well, they are. However, I’m not exactly consistent in my health habits so,” he gestures at his own body. “-I want to make sure it actually fits.” “Of course. What are you looking for?” Peter opens the right tab in the computer’s system to fill our the information and have a quick check at the old numbers anyways. Any reference would only make his job easier. He can’t believe May never told him about this. She knows just how obsessed he is with the CEO of Stark Industries, or Iron Man. Both. The dark-haired man in front of him is both genius and hot. Peter looks up to him, only hoping to ever be that smart or handsome. He sighs quietly and a faint smile plays on his lips. This, this is exactly why his aunt kept it in the dark.

“Well, I have this stupid gala coming up and I’m looking for a royal blue lounge suit. Preferably with three buttons, single-breasted. The linen May used last time was perfect, is it still available?” Peter quickly scribbles down the man’s requests on the little notepad he keeps at the counter and then glances up at the screen to figure out what exact fabric the man’s talking about. “Oh, I’m afraid that one only comes in either burgundy, black, or a cloudy gray. We do have a very similar fabric that might come in blue, let me check, and-” “Burgundy.” “What?” “I’ll go with burgundy. I love that fabric and I don’t think I own any piece of clothing in that color yet.” “Are you sure, Mr. Stark? It really is no big deal to find something blue,” Peter tries, not wanting to make the man feel as if there are no options to choose from. Heck. The options are endless for a man so wealthy. Tony shakes his head adamantly.  “I want this one.”

Peter shrugs as he decides not to question nor judge the man’s impulsive choice and he picks up his pen to cross ‘royal blue’ and add ‘burgundy’ instead. He opens the top right drawer to take the tape measure - which of course isn’t there. Tony snorts at Peter’s displeased face. “You’re exactly like your aunt.” “She’s the only reason things are never where they’re supposed to be.” Peter sighs, his tone playful though. He loves his aunt, and there should be enough tape measures around the shop to make up for the one he can’t find right now. They’re scattered everywhere. “I should be able to find one… Here!” Peter grins triumphantly as he grabs one from the bottom shelf in the closet behind him.  “Let’s get to the back, Mr. Stark.” “Tony, call me Tony.”

Peter has to force himself to not stare at Mr. Stark’s gorgeous body in front of him. All the man is wearing now are the tight black boxers and it has Peter half-hard in his jeans. He can’t stop glancing sideways as he expertly takes the necessary measurements for the sleeves and shoulders of the lounge suit. Blushing every time his finger’s brush past Tony’s warm skin. He tries. He really tries to keep his hands from touching but completely dodging it is simply impossible with this job. He scribbles down the numbers on his little notepad and bites down his lips as he realizes the next step is the man’s chest. His waist. His hips and then, oh god, his thighs. Peter gulps as he steps towards Tony’s right side. He’s a professional. He’s done this countless times. Fuck, May trusts him to run the shop by himself, and here he is, thinking the most inappropriate thoughts about the richest man of the States. He has to get a grip on himself, but it sure doesn’t help that the man stars basically all of his dirty little fantasies. His hands are a little shaky as he wraps the tape around Tony’s chest and huffs a frustrated breath when the tips of his fingers slip past his ribcage. “Kid, it’s okay. You can touch me,” Tony smirks, clearly amused at Peter’s awkward attempts to avoid touching him. “Mr. Sta- Tony. I’m so sorry. I don’t usually get like, well, this-” his cheeks flush even more and he groans. He couldn’t even keep his mouth shut if his life would depend on it.  “Mmh-” Tony hums playfully. “-get on with it then.” Peter looks up at Tony’s face and the blatant flirtatious grin knocks the air out his lungs. Oh, God. This isn’t happening. He feels the little surge of arousal in his groin and licks his lips, casting his eyes down at hands. At the number that indicates the perimeter of Tony’s chest. Right. He’s taking measurements. The sooner he finishes this, the sooner he can forget about his embarrassing behavior.

“I’m just gonna…” his voice trails off and he bites down on his lip as he sinks down onto one knee at Tony’s side. Peter wraps the tape around Tony’s thigh shakily and he’s ashamed to admit he loves the strong, lean muscles underneath his touch. Tony shifts his weight, causing the muscles to tense, and Peter nearly gasps. “Boy, you alright down there?” “Yes, yes Sir. I-” “Tell me, kid. How old are you?” Peter’s head shoots up at that, searching the man’s face. He isn’t exactly certain why the man is asking him that. He has an idea, though, and the mere thought has his breath hitch in his throat. “I’m nineteen, Sir.” “Good to know. Now, finish up.” “Of course,” Peter rushes out and scribbles down the number. The stern order finally clearing his mind a little and his hands find back their usual rhythm. It doesn’t take long for him to finish. His eyes scan past the page quickly to see if there’s anything he’s missed, but nope, he’s all good like that, so he gets up from the floor, taking a step back.

“Alright, Tony, you can uh, dress again. I’ll see you at the counter to discuss the details.” “Sure thing, Peter.” The man doesn’t move though and Peter wonders what would happen if he’d drop to his knees again. Would Tony take the offer? He wants to ask. He’s so close to actually going for it. He can’t, though. He wouldn’t be able to stand the rejection. This is Tony fucking Stark, and he’s just some kid working in his aunt’s shop. Surely Tony must’ve had better offers. Without another word, he turns his back to Mr. Stark and makes his way to the counter to fill out the digital form to complete the order.

He almost asked the man to fuck him, and he’s not sure whether he’s relieved or disappointed that he didn’t. 

-

“May?” Peter squeaks and he groans at the way his voice betrays him. He hopes May will simply see it as his usual nervous babbling and won’t blink an eye. “Can I work this Thursday?” May looks up from her iPad and smirks, rolling her eyes at him. Peter blushes. She knows what he’s up to. “This is why I didn’t tell you, Pete.” “I know, I know!” He exclaims and sinks into the couch. “But now that I found out, surely you can’t deny me that little bit of pleasure?” May grins at him, shaking her head. “Fine, fine, I’ll take a day off. God, he’s sexy isn’t he?” His aunt wiggles her eyebrows at him. “May!” She laughs and Peter blushes. She found out just how deep his obsession with the billionaire ran one day a couple years ago when she walked in on him jerking off to one of his many posters. It’s hands down one of the most embarrassing moments of his entire life. She didn’t judge him for it, though, Peter is still very grateful about that. It also had been his coming-out to her, the first time he ever told anyone he’s gay. She simply gave him time to get dressed and then they talked about it for a bit. No matter how mortifying the start of the conversation had been, the moment definitely made him grow a stronger bond with her. She’s so much more than his aunt now. She’s his big sister. His friend. Maybe even his parent - something he still finds hard to wrap his head around but it’s the truth.

“Well, isn’t he? I don’t believe you didn’t watch at his abs.” “Hnnngh, I did actually.” “See?” “Fuck, he’s hot, May.” Peter groans, hugging a pillow into his chest. “Should I even help him again? Isn’t that like, against tailor-ethics?” “Oh you, don’t worry so much about it. Just don’t do anything stupid.” She pauses for a moment and Peter figures he shouldn’t tell her how he almost offered the man to fuck him right there and then. “No matter how cocky the man presents himself, he’s not like that at all.” “What do you mean?” “I can’t say I know him, but… I’d say deep down he’s genuinely a sweet man.”

Those are the words that echo in his mind when Tony walks into the shop that Thursday. Peter musters a smile onto his face and can’t help the tingly feeling from spreading through his chest when he sees Tony’s eyes light up as he spots Peter behind the counter. “Morning, kid!” “Good morning, Sir.” Peter beams, knowing he doesn’t have to address Tony like that. He wants to, though. It has a nice ring to it. “You’re too polite for your own good, kid,” Tony grunts, walking up to him. “-good to see you again though. I was hoping you would be here.” “You were?” “Yeah.” Tony sniffs and leans forward on the counter. Peter’s breath catches in his throat. The man’s face mere inches away. His eyes so daring and playful that Peter is almost dreading the next string of words. “You’re cute.” 

Peter’s cheeks burn up and he swallows, a sudden bold feeling overcoming him when he too leans on the counter and grins. “What exactly are you implying here, Mr. Stark?” The man grins at the question.  “I like boys like you, Peter. Young. Handsome. Cute.” Tony licks his lips and stands up straight again. “I’m no predator, though. I’ve laid out my cards, and I’m leaving the choice up to you.” Peter can’t believe what he’s hearing. Can’t believe how straightforward Tony is. Oh God, Mr. Stark thinks he’s handsome and cute. Fuckable.  “I-I-” he stutters, fingers digging into the counter, only to let go quickly. He doesn’t want to accidentally break the wood with his super strength. Tony doesn’t give him time to answer. “So, how’s my suit?”

Peter inhales sharply, trying to recompose himself. He’s at work. He should do his damned job. May wouldn’t forgive him if he didn’t.  “You can try it on in the back. There’s a large mirror directly on the right. Call me if you need me.” Peter picks the right suit from the rack behind him and hands it to Tony. Smiling innocently. Two can play a game. He knows the man has worn so many suits in his life that he would never actually need Peter’s help. He hopes Tony will pretend, though, pretend not to know how it works. Calling for Peter to rescue him. He sighs out loud, glancing at the doors. Peter isn’t usually very confident with things like these, but Tony is so clearly hitting on him that he wants their little game to continue. Please, please call out for me.

“Peter? I think I need some help.”

-

Ever since that day, Peter checks May’s work schedule obsessively. She notices but doesn’t really comment on it. She’s sweet like that. Peter knows Tony could drop in without an appointment as well, like last time. He tries to work as many shifts as he can with his college schedule. Just in case. Just in case the man will step in to demand yet another suit. Peter’s not gonna lie, he’s been watching the new interview with Mr. Stark where he actually wears the burgundy suit they had with him right before the gala. The color just fits so well with the man’s tanned skin and his dark hair. Watching him wear it makes Peter’s mind flash back to the teasing that occurred in the shop and he can’t help think of it as his suit. Peter’s.

Peter is actually splayed out on his bed now. He’s got half an hour to kill before he leaves to the shop again so he scrolls through Tony’s Instagram account, gawking over the beautiful pictures from the same night. He remembers his fingers brushing past the man’s skin. Remembers kneeling, feeling his strong thighs flexing underneath his touch. Most of all, he remembers the soft “Pretty boy,” the man had whispered, fingers dragging through his curls while Peter had checked how well the suit fits him.  It’s been three weeks. Three long weeks in which Peter has jerked off every single night just thinking about those words. Imagining how it’d feel to have the man pushed balls deep inside of him. His fingers swipe up on the phone screen and tap on his contact list, scrolling down until he sees Tony’s name appear on the screen. He knows it’s not exactly fair but he saved it in his phone from the information Tony gave them for the shop’s clientele system. Tony’s only one call away.  However, Peter can’t bring himself to follow through. He hates it. He hates how he doubts everything. He isn’t sure whether he just wants to fuck the man or go on a date with him. Perhaps both. Maybe nothing at all. He’s worried he only likes the man because he’s been idolizing him for years now. Because when he thinks about it, even in the store, they haven’t actually talked much. Some jokes here and there, some basic information he needed for the suit and the sexual innuendo from last time. That’s it.  But then, people fuck actual strangers. Peter at least knows who this is. That’s already a plus, right? Gosh, sleeping around has never been this difficult. Not that he’s done it often but it’d definitely been different.

He sighs, dragging his ass out of bed to leave for the shop. The longer he waits here the more he’ll start to doubt himself. At least work will distract him for a bit. With Valentine’s Day coming up there are more requests than usual and Peter loves keeping busy. He fastens the shoelaces tightly and smiles at himself in the mirror, readjusting the collar of his white button-up shirt.  “May, I’m off!” “Wait- Pete hold up!” May’s voice comes from the kitchen and he cocks an eyebrow as he waits for her to catch up with him. “I just got a phone call. Guess who?” Peter’s eyes widen. Either it’s Mrs. Cortes from the apartment beneath them or Mr. Stark. Seeing the shimmer in May’s eyes, it’s the latter. “No way!” “Yes, Peter. He asked for you, specifically. He’s coming in at two for a new suit.” Peter’s mind is spinning. He’s seeing his crush again. Tony Stark asked for him. “Peter, is there something going on that I should know about?” “No? I mean? I don’t know?” May raises her eyebrows at him and Peter groans. “I think he wants to fuck me?” “What?! Peter!” “I know! I don’t know!” He exclaims and adjusts the backpack sliding off his shoulder. “He’s been hinting at it?” “And you want him to, that’s why you’ve been working at the shop so much lately.” May groans and shakes her head. “Peter, I don’t even know what to say. Did something happen?” Peter shakes his head frantically, blushing. “Just… Flirting.” “Flirting. You’ve been flirting with our most important customer.” “He started it!” May huffs at his words and Peter knows he fucked up big time. “Look, May, I’m sorry-” “Peter. I don’t… I’m not angry with you. It’s just...” May sighs and Peter presses his lips together. “Mr. Stark is handsome. Sexy. I know that he’s your superhero and all that. He’s charming and sweet, but I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

What?

“You’re not going to fire me?” “No. I guess I’m not. I probably should, but, you’re old enough to decide who and who not to fuck. And I can’t blame you for wanting to ride his di-” “May!” Peter’s cheeks are glowing hot with embarrassment now. “What? I’ve been young too. You think I never did anything like that?” Peter squeezes his eyes shut to banish the intrusive images from his thoughts. He did not want to know that. “Just be careful. He’s more than twice your age. I want you to really think about this.” May sighs, shaking her head. “And please lock the door, I don’t need to lose customers to this.” Peter can’t believe what she’s saying. Is she really telling him to go for it?  “May, I don’t-” May simply grins at him and presses a kiss on Peter’s forehead.  “Have a good day at work, honey!”

It’s safe to say Peter anxiously waits for 2 pm to come around. He’s a wreck. Now that May knows about this it’s so real. So very real that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s an easy day, only one appointment at 10 am for a simple black tux. The man bought one by himself but the sleeves were two inches too long. He promised the man it would be ready tomorrow and Peter was thanked for the quick service. Peter mindlessly worked on both sleeves and stored the jacket away carefully when he was done. May still needs to teach him a lot, but the sleeve work is something he can do himself. He stares at the clock. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes until Mr. Stark will walk in here again. God. Peter is horny. And scared. What if it’d been nothing more than a silly game? But then, the man had told him he’d wait for Peter to make a move. That seemed to be a pretty serious offer. 

Right?

The door jingles and Peter jumps up startled, his head whipping around only to find the devil himself standing in the doorway. Peter gulps. He’s wearing the burgundy suit. Tony Stark is wearing his suit. “H-Hello, Mr. Stark,” he stammers. “You’re early.” “I arrived precisely when I meant to,” Tony joked, referring Lord Of The Rings, and Peter can’t help chuckling at that.  “Didn’t take you for such a nerd.” Peter snorts and visibly relaxes now that Tony is actually here. The man fake-gasps. “Did you just call me out on my fantastic taste in movies?” “I may have.” “Well, then you’re a nerd too. Knew that from day one though.” Tony jests. Peter raises an eyebrow at him and shakes his head slightly. “What gave it away?” “Are you aware that you wear batman vans to work?” Peter blushes and glances down at his feet. Dammit. He wears the pair so mindlessly that he hadn’t given it a second thought. Ever. Okay, he is a nerd. 

“So, how can I help you, Gandalf?” Tony snickers and shakes his head.  “Need a new suit.” “Something wrong with this one?” Peter waves at the burgundy one he’s wearing now. “No, I love it. I’ve got a little press conference coming up though, and well, I need to spend my money on something now don’t I? I was thinking a deep blue tweed suit. Do you two work with that?” “A tweed suit? I- Yes, we do.” Peter scribbles it down again and then searches for all the possible options in the system. “Alright for deep blue we have two options.” Peter turns the screen around so Tony can see. “The first one is woven using the herringbone structure. The color is slightly darker than… This one, woven using a twill structure. It might feel more sturdy but the color is lighter.” “Which one do you recommend?” “Depends. Herringbone is classier, twill more casual. Most people won’t see the difference...” “But you do.” “I do.”

It’s silent for a moment. Somehow, those words were spoken like a confession and they both feel it. Peter looks up at Tony and sends him a little smile before reaching for the tape measure that’s dangling from his neck this time.  “Peter,” Tony breathes, his nostrils flaring. “-is this you making your choice?” “Well, Mr. Stark…” Peter grins and walks to the entrance. The loud click when he turns the key is his answer. He turns the sign, stating that the shop is now closed. When he turns around again, he tilts his head slightly.  “Follow me.” Peter walks past Tony, not waiting for the man’s response. This is his chance. He knows the man wants him.

“Alright. If you would please undress yourself, Sir? I can take your measurements.” Tony raises his eyebrows at him. “You already have my-” “Wouldn’t want to risk your suit not fitting due to your fluctuating health habits now would we.” Peter teases, repeating the words Tony had spoken to him the first time. Tony licks his lips and moves his hands up to unbutton the burgundy jacket. Peter watches how Tony undresses himself slowly. He’s not even trying to be sexy about it. Quiet. Practical. Almost authoritative and Peter’s already hard again. When the man pushes the pants down, Peter’s pleased to see the man is hard too. And fuck, he’s… Well, big. “Get to it, boy.”  “Yes, Sir.” Peter rushes and he takes the tape between both his hands to work through the little measuring ritual. Just as he did the first time. As he always does. Starting with the wrists, lower arm length, upper arm length. This time he doesn’t try to minimize the contact with Tony’s skin. The opposite. He takes every chance he gets to trails his fingertips past the man’s body.  He deliberately steps in front of the man when he measures his chest. It’s unprofessional to stand in front of a customer instead of at the side, and yet that’s why it feels so exhilarating. He takes a step closer as he wraps the tape around the man’s hips, his hands lingering just above the hem of Tony’s underwear. He doesn’t cave in yet. Instead, he looks up at Tony who’s staring back at him, eyes full of lust. “I just need to measure your legs, Sir.” “Get on your knees, then.” Peter moans and obeys, slowly sinking down until his knees hit the floor. His face is just inches away from Tony’s crotch but he doesn’t break eye contact with the man towering over him. “That’s it,” Tony coos, his hand reaching out for Peter’s curls. The boy gasps when Tony grabs a handful and tugs slightly. “Such a pretty boy.”

The sparks that rush down Peter’s spine have him gasp. For the first time he realizes how this man will be a complete different fuck than than the handful he’s had. This man is older. Has a shit ton of experience. He’s impatiently patient. He’s going to make Peter work for it and the thought alone sets off another surge of desire coursing through his veins. His hands are sweaty and trembling as he brings them up to circle the tape around Tony’s strong thigh.  “You’re so strong, Mr. Stark.” “You like that?” “Mh-mh, I do.” “If you’re good for me and finish the measurements, I may just allow you to kiss them.” Peter whines at the blatant promise and his hands move down, mindlessly finishing up his measuring series. He can’t really concentrate on it. All he notices is how the grip in his hair changes, tugging more, making him tip his head to expose his neck. Pushing him down, making him bow. He’s a puppet, Tony controls his every single move. He’s never submitted to someone so easily and he’s never loved it as much as he does now.  “Peter, look at me.” Tony forces Peter’s head to tip back and he gasps, staring up with his big brown eyes. With his free hand, Tony pushes his boxers down and Peter nearly chokes at the sight of just how big he actually is. It’s a beautiful cock. Hard, fierce, massive. Peter wants to taste it. Wants to lap his tongue at the hot skin to taste the salty precum.  “Measure it.” “Wh-” “I’m not repeating myself.” Tony smirks and Peter shuffles closer. Bringing his hands up carefully. He whimpers when his fingers touch the cock as he presses the tape against both the base and the tip. “Tell me how big it is, Peter.” Peter moans as he looks at the number. Oh god, that’s bigger than average for sure. “S-Seven inches, Sir.” “Have you ever had anyone that big?” “No, I haven’t.” “Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you, sugar.” Tony growls. He opens his free hand and curls his fingers in a demanding motion. “Give me the tape measure.” Peter easily complies and gives it to Tony. The man grins and wraps it around Peter’s neck to pull him in closer. Peter wants to lean in, wants to take that pretty cock into his mouth so badly, but the grip in his hair holds him back. “You sure you want this, Peter? Do I have your full consent?” Peter nods furiously. Yes, he wants this. Wants everything. “Yes, Mr. Stark. I do.” “Good. Suck.” Tony yanks the boy forward using both the tape around Peter’s neck and the grip in his curls. Peter gasps, scrambling forward and parting his lips to catch the man’s cock in his mouth. He moans, lips closing around the soft flesh and drags his tongue across the tip, eliciting a moan from Tony. Oh god. He just made Tony Stark moan. For him. The thought spurs him on and he sinks deeper onto it, loving how it fills his mouth. He’s got the worst gag reflex, already knows he won’t be able to take it fully, but he sure as fuck knows how to work his tongue to make the man’s knees buckle.

“Oh, oh damn, boy, you’re so fucking good at this. Been wanting this the second I laid my eyes on your pretty face.” Peter whines around the cock and shuffles closer. He doesn’t use his hands, somehow he knows Tony wouldn’t allow him to if he tried. He’s bobbing his head up and down, the musky smell pleasing him to his very core as he manages to suck deeper and deeper with each thrust the man makes. “I want you to touch yourself, dear. Take that cock out and stroke it for me. Don’t go slow. I want you to wreck yourself, understood?” Peter nods as much as he physically can in this position and moves both his hands down. Quickly unbuckling the belt and shoving the fabric down just enough for his hard-on to jump free. His right hand wraps around it and he strokes. Hard. And fast. And rough. Making himself see stars the way Tony told him to. His eyes flutter shut. It’s overwhelming. The rumbling grunts rolling of Mr. Stark’s tongue while the grip in Peter’s hair tightens. The burning pit in his stomach that only burns up more and more and more the faster he strokes himself. He wants to swallow every last bit Tony will give him. He swirls his tongue around the head, sucking and hollowing his cheeks. Gasping, moaning, taking and taking and taking what the man gives him. 

“Are you close, boy?” Peter nods desperately. He doesn’t stop, though, doesn’t stop from flicking his thumb around the head, squeezing his own shaft with every little pump. Hips bucking wildly into his touch. His moans muffled by Tony’s hips thrusting forward in a fast, unforgiving pace. “I want you to come like this, baby. Desperate and needy and without shame.” Peter mumbles a short please around Tony’s cock. He’s not sure if the man got it, but, his eagerness as he keeps going down on the man clear enough. “Fuck, sugar, ‘m gonna cum inside of you. You’re gonna take it all, uh? Isn’t this what you’ve been dreaming of? Being used by me? I can hear the fucking awe in your voice when you speak my name. You were ready for me before I even met you.” Yes, yes, yes! Peter gasps, abs clenching tight as he collapses forward. His hands moving up and down in a killer pace until-

“F-fc!” His broken curse around Mr. Stark’s cock when he spills his cum on the tile floor. Another spurt leaves him. And another. His thighs are trembling and his mind is spinning. The explosion in his stomach is so wonderfully sweet and he feels so filthy and good and used in the exact way he loves it so much. Tony growls at the sight.  “Good boy, Pete. Fuck, good boy. ” Peter doesn’t exactly follow what happens next, but suddenly Tony is no longer holding the tape around his neck. Both his hands tangled into his hair tightly to fuck his mouth, pounding into him relentlessly. Peter just submits to the complete and utter control the man has over him. Moving his face where he wants him. Setting the pace. “Yes, oh, you’re going to swallow for me, pretty little thing. Feel so good, so hot around me. Prettiest mouth I’ve ever had. You’re perfect, Peter. Fucking p-perfect, I’m go-” Tony’s voice breaks off into a loud growl, hips stuttering and rolling forward desperately. “Take it, take it! I- Aaah!” Peter’s eyes widen when he feels the hot load spill into his mouth. The familiar taste exploding on his taste buds. He whimpers, swallowing. His mind hazy and floaty and he just wants to devour every single drop of it. Make the man proud. Please him. 

Peter moans quietly when he feels the man’s cock softening up in his mouth. He’s not sure why he’s still on his knees. Still gently suckling on the hot, sticky skin. All he knows is that he feels good. That he doesn’t want this feeling to end. He’s never had such good sex and jokes on him, it’d been nothing more than a quick blowjob. It’s only when Tony gently tugs on his hair that he opens his eyes again, staring up at the man when the cock slips out. A soft breath leaving his slightly parted lips. His jaws ache and he loves it. Loves the enamored look the man sends his way. “Peter, sweetheart…” Tony whispers. “Are you alright down there?” Peter nods, a smile playing on his lips as he closes them. He nuzzles his face into the man’s leg. Only vaguely aware that he might be displaying a tad too much affection for someone he barely knows. He simply feels so happy. “I feel good, Mr. Stark.”  “God, you’re precious.” Tony kneels down as well, cradling Peter into his arms. Stroking his back, whispering the sweetest praise into his ears until slowly the veil lifts from his mind and he becomes aware of his surroundings again. The tape measure dangling from his neck once more, the cum staining on the tiles. The fact that he just fucked Tony Stark in his aunt’s tailoring shop. Oh my- “W-We should probably get dressed before anyone wonders why we’re closed,” Peter mumbles and he slowly leans back from the embrace, smiling at Tony apologetically. He slides his cock back into his jeans and buckles his belt tightly. Tony nods. “Of course. I… Should probably get dressed too.”

They don’t speak when Tony dresses, when Peter grabs a towel and soap to clean up the little mess he made. Not when they walk back to the counter and Peter finishes Tony’s order for the tweed suit. He’s not so sure what to say. Doesn’t know why he’s so silent all of a sudden. What could he say? Thank you, Mr. Stark, that was the best fuck of my pathetic little life. See you never? It’s Tony who breaks the silence. “Are you alright, kid?” “Y-Yes. I’m just finishing up this section of the form and then I can send-” “Peter, look at me.” Peter looks up reluctantly. The man is so fucking gorgeous in the burgundy suit. Peter doesn’t know how he’ll ever find someone to live this up with. “I… Here, this is my business card. It uh, has my phone number on there in case you- well.” Tony sniffs. “I guess I’m telling you to call me if you ever want to come by my penthouse.” Peter’s eyes open wide.  “You’d want to do this again?” Tony nods.  “I like you. You’re pretty, funny, nerdy enough for my liking. You’re smart, I can tell. And that mouth of yours…” Tony grins. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that, Sir.” “I like it when you call me that.” “I like calling you that.” 

They’re silent again for a moment. Now that the sexual tension is out of their system - already building again a bit - Peter feels so many things and he can see the same emotions cross Tony’s eyes. He wonders what it means. Wonders how badly he wants to find out. “Please, Peter. Give me a call.” “I will,” Peter whispers, but he looks up at Tony and smiles widely. More resolutely, he repeats himself. “I will.”

“So,” Peter chuckles as he hands Tony the receipt for the tweed suit. He doesn’t tell Tony he completely forgot to write down any of the measurements he did, but he’s fairly sure that the man’s body didn’t change that much in just three weeks time so he used the once he took before. “-what are you doing tonight?” “Oh, it’s nothing. Some shit for the Avengers.” Peter’s cheeks flush. Oh, how he wishes he could ever be a part of it. He never thought he’d get the chance, but now that he knows Tony Stark personally. Who knows if he ever has the guts to ask. “Avengers? Is there a threat?” “No, no, nothing to worry about. There’s someone I want to recruit. You may have heard of him, some dude calling himself Spider-Man? He’s…” Peter freezes. He doesn’t quite follow what Tony says next. So casually. So- unwavering. He should come clean. He has to, he has to, he has to!” “I-I’m Spider-Man!” He squeaks. The look on Tony’s face is priceless. “Fuck, well kid, welcome to the team.”

---

Part Two: Inch By Inch

Are you curious about the Stripper/Prostitute!AU Lien wrote for the fic exchange? Find it here! Seriously, it’s amazing.

#starker #adult peter parker #peter parker #peter x tony #tony x peter #tony stark #ironspider #iron man #iron man x spider man #spider man x iron man #ironman #spiderman #spider man #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #ao3 fanfic #fan fic #marvel #mcu #tailor #tailoring #alternate universe #au #fic exchange

[hotpinkhoshi]

the pact (4)

pairing: jinyoung x reader

genre: romance, smut, a lil angst

warnings: explicit sex, cursing, unprotected sex, dirty talk, spanking, orgasm denial

word count: 6.3k

summary: you desperately need to get over your decade-long crush on lim jaebeom, and your close friend jinyoung needs to get over his ex—so the two of you make an arrangement: just sex, no feelings. what could go wrong?

a/n: first of all i hope everyone had a great holiday and a happy new year 😘 i was verrrry busy which is why this update is a bit delayed. thank you guys for being patient with me while i get my shit together! i hope you enjoy this part because i loved writing it. also please check out the playlist i made for parts 1-4 right here :) 

↳ index here

Jinyoung: Y/N Jinyoung: I need you to come over immediately Jinyoung: It’s an emergency

You: what?? what’s wrong??? You: …. You: this isn’t like a sex emergency right

Jinyoung: No. Please just come over.

“What’s wrong? What’s the emergency?” you asked urgently as you slipped inside of Jinyoung’s apartment. 

Jinyoung welcomed you in, and the first thing you noticed was his casual attire—gray joggers, a hunter green hoodie, and a pair of wire rimmed glasses you hadn’t seen him wear since high school. It also looked like he’d just recently gotten out of the shower, judging by the damp locks of hair clinging to his temples.

Funny enough, your own outfit mirrored his. A gray sweatshirt and black joggers. After all, you had been halfway ready for bed by the time he texted you, even though it wasn’t really that late. It was Sunday night, you’d spent all weekend working and you weren’t ashamed to call it a night before ten o’clock. 

“I have… two hours,” Jinyoung started, glancing at his watch and then back at you, “to pack for a week and a half in New York.”

You blinked at him. “You what?”

Jinyoung let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed your hand, tugging you back towards his bedroom. You nearly passed out from shock at the state of disarray that greeted you; suitcase wide open on the floor, piles of clothes everywhere, shampoo bottles laying around haphazardly. Never, in all the years you’d known him, had you seen his room anything but spotless—not even in that shitty third floor walk up he and Jackson lived in before they both got grown up jobs. 

“Why does it look the toiletries aisle threw up all over your room, Jinyoung?” 

Jinyoung, frazzled as you’d ever seen him, ruffled the back of his own hair harshly. “My boss called me an hour ago asking if I’d go to this convention because the girl that was meant to do it got mono. So now I’m flying to New York in four hours.” 

Your eyes lit up as you smacked his chest excitedly. “That’s great!”

He’d mentioned the convention a few times in the last few weeks. He was excited about it, you knew that much, but that was when his responsibility was to organize the event from afar. In your opinion, it sounded like your personal heaven. Thousands of avid book readers came from all over the world, just to share their excitement over books. You couldn’t imagine anything better.

He groaned, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “It’s terrible. You know I hate unexpected surprises, Y/N. What if I screw it up?”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not going to happen. They probably asked you to do it because they know you’re capable. You’re basically the head of your department, right?”

Jinyoung shrugged modestly. “I mean, yeah. I’ve been in charge of planning the entire thing for the last two months.”

“Exactly. So it’ll be fine—you worry far too much. Now, how can I help with… all of this?” You looked around at the chaos dispersed throughout his bedroom, not sure where to start. 

Jinyoung took in a deep, calming breath, then pointed to the pile of clean clothes on the floor next to the suitcase. “If you can put those clothes in the packing cubes and get them into the suitcase—why are you laughing?”

You covered your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laugh as you sat in front of his pile of clothing. “Nothing. I just… of course you use packing cubes.”

Jinyoung pursed his lips—giving you his trademark unamused look. “Don’t make fun of me, I’m in a crisis.” 

“You’re so dramatic. I swear.” You rolled your eyes at him, lips forming a smirk. “Stop scowling at me and get to packing, mister.” 

Jinyoung mumbled something under his breath, which sounded a lot like not the boss of me, and they’re practical but you couldn’t be too sure. Still, he settled on his bed, picking out items from the massive pile of mini sized hair and skin products and stuffing them into a travel bag. 

Comfortable silence filled the room as you two focused on your separate tasks, but you could practically hear Jinyoung’s racing thoughts from across the room. It was almost annoying how well you could read his emotions, which you chalked up to your many years of friendship. 

But you knew he’d feel better once the daunting task of packing was done with, so you sorted his clothing as he asked. Once the cubes were full of his clothes, folded and organized into his suitcase, you stood from the floor and crawled onto the bed. 

You perched on your knees behind him, leaning your chin onto his shoulder. He smelled nice, you noticed. Like fresh linen. “Are you done yet?”

He grunted, shaking his head as he tossed a bottle of face moisturizer into his bag with more force than necessary.

You hummed, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Can I interest you in a short distraction? Since you’ll be gone for… how long again?” 

Jinyoung didn’t respond, just continued stuffing items into travel sized bags as if he didn’t hear you. You pouted, squeezing him tighter. His entire body was tense, from his shoulders down to his abs. 

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching for his hands to pull them into his lap. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?” 

He just lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Just don’t want to screw it up,” he mumbled. 

You sighed and shifted next to him, crawling into his lap to straddle his waist. Reaching for his chin, you lifted his eyes to yours. You would’ve had to be blind not to see how nervous he was about this.

“Hey,” you said again. “That’s not going to happen. Trust me. Remember that time, in college, we both wrote down the wrong date for our European Lit exam and we were completely blindsided when we walked into class? You passed with a 96. You’re great under pressure, Jinyoung. You’re smart, you work hard, and you’re quick on your feet.” 

Jinyoung’s features, ever so slightly, softened as he listened to you. He knew you were right. You had seen him come out on top of so many stressful situations, and you knew this time was no different. 

“What’d you get on that exam? I don’t think you ever told me.” 

You cringed at the memory. The big, fat red marker the teacher had used to scribble your nearly failing grade across your test flashed in your mind. “65. Dad lectured me for about three hours about that one.” 

“Ouch,” Jinyoung began, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. It seemed he was already feeling better. “Maybe I should have tutored you. I could have gotten you some extra credit…” 

Though it was his attempt at trying to sound sexy, it just came off cheesy and you couldn’t help but snort. “You’re lucky you’re really good in bed, because your pillow talk leaves something to be desired.” 

Jinyoung grinned, leaning in to nip at your neck. “Hmm,” he hummed against your skin, hands slipping up the back of your hoodie. “All I heard was really good in bed.”

“Mm,” you tilted your head, allowing him more space to kiss your neck. You didn’t even care about the marks he could leave. “Did I say that? I meant terrible in bed. Like, so bad.” You smiled at the laugh he pressed into your skin.

You shivered as he grazed his fingertips up and down your spine, goosebumps forming wherever he touched. No matter how many times he put his hands on you, it never stopped having such an effect on you. 

The last month, after Bambam’s party, you’d set out three rules for yourself: no cuddling, no sleeping over, and no unnecessary kissing. So far, you’d held your ground. If Jinyoung noticed anything weird, he didn’t show it. Just nodded and walked you to the door each time you chose not to sleep over. 

But the sex was still worth keeping your arrangement. Jinyoung had shown you a side of yourself you weren’t aware of until now, and you couldn’t deny he made you feel desirable in a way that was totally new. You had no hesitation telling him what you wanted or needed in order to feel good—unlike how you’d been in past relationships. 

“So how about that distraction?” you whispered, threading your fingers through Jinyoung’s hair and pushing it away from his face. 

He laughed again. “We don’t have time.” 

You stuck your lip out, pulling back enough to look at him. “Yes we do. I’m not going to see you for almost two weeks, can’t I just… have something to remember you by?” 

Jinyoung glanced at the clock on his wall, then back at you. The clock, then you again. “Alright, fine. You’re lucky you’re really good in bed.”

Your pout turned into a pleased grin. “I know.” 

To shut you up, he reached for your sweatshirt to pull off, throwing the material to the floor. He cursed under his breath when he saw you were completely bare under your hoodie. “God. I swear you live to drive me insane.” 

“Hmm, maybe, maybe not,” you said, as you slipped your hands back into his hair and gave the strands a firm tug. 

“Fuck,” he started, hands squeezing your hips. “Want to come to New York with me? Just curl up in my suitcase?” 

You laughed, hips rolling down against him almost instinctively, craving more contact. “Sounds uncomfortable.” 

“Mm,” he shook his head and leaned in, kissing across your chest. “Don’t know how I’ll live without these.” 

“By ‘these’ do you mean my boobs?” 

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“You’re dumb,” you replied with a laugh, hands traveling down his torso until you could tug his sweatshirt off of him. “I’ll send you a picture every day, just so you don’t miss them too much.” 

Jinyoung flipped you over onto your back, kicking his pile of toiletries out of the way and cringing at the sound of about a thousand lotion bottles falling to the floor. “You’re too good to me.” 

“I know,” you responded, quick to remove his shirt as well, revealing the toned torso you never got sick of seeing. “You’re so lucky to have me.” 

“Something like that,” he said as he looked down at you, eyes shining with desire. His hips were grinding into yours so perfectly, the bulge in his sweats pressing into your center just right. 

Your eyes fell shut as you groaned, only encouraging him to push into you with more force. He could bring you to the edge just like this, and you made a mental note to test that theory someday. Tonight, though, you wanted him inside of you. 

Jinyoung leaned down, closing his mouth around one of your nipples and rolling his tongue over the hardened peak, over and over. You arched into him, wanting more. In a matter of minutes, he’d already reduced you to a pliant mess underneath of him. 

His mouth traveled downwards and more bottles were knocked to the floor, though you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You’d clean up the mess later. He sucked a hickey into your hip as he pulled off your joggers, making you shiver when the cold air hit your skin. 

“The snowmen underwear,” Jinyoung mused, a smirk on his lips. You’d forgotten you had grabbed those from your drawer today--the same pair you’d worn the first night you slept together. At this point, you’d given up trying to always be wearing sexy underwear when you’d see Jinyoung. He truly did not care what you had under your clothes, as he reminded you so many times. 

“Shut up,” you told him, squirming your hips as he stared up at you. 

“They’re cute,” he said, just as he did that first night. “I might rip them off you, though. Wanna fuck you so bad.” He leaned down, licking right up the line of your covered slit. 

You bit back a moan and gripped the sheets underneath of you, already feeling restless with need. 

“It’s a shame we’re tight on time,” he muttered, nose nudging against your clit. “I’d love to spend the whole night between your thighs. Just tasting you, making you crazy…”

You wouldn’t have minded that at all. Jinyoung was a perfectionist, and it was never more apparent than when he had his mouth on you, determined to make you feel good. It was an experience, every single time. 

When he finally pulled your underwear off, he glanced up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Your panties dangled off his index finger. “Want to give me something to remember you by?” 

You stared down at him, skeptical. “Yes…?” 

Jinyoung sat up on his knees, balling up your underwear and tossing it into his opened suitcase. You gaped up at him, reaching to hit his arm. “Jinyoung! You can’t steal my underwear!” 

He laughed, leaning back down to hover over you. “I didn’t steal them. You said yes. Come on, please?” 

“You’re so weird,” you told him, relenting. As shocked as you were, you couldn’t deny that it was hot, him wanting to take your panties along across the world just to remember you by. Whatever that meant. 

“Shh, tight on time, remember?” he dipped down to kiss you, smiling against your lips and causing you to do the same. 

Your hands roamed his body, trying to memorize the lines and curves of his skin just so that you wouldn’t forget. It would be the longest you’d gone without seeing Jinyoung since you started sleeping together two months ago. At this point, you knew his body better than your own. You were going to miss it. 

“Hey,” you spoke against his lips, pulling away to push his hair away from his eyes. “This is the first time you’ve fucked me with glasses on.” 

“And?” he asked, thick brows pushed together. 

You shrugged. “And I think you look hot. You’re like my sexy, visually impaired teacher.” 

Jinyoung’s eyes narrowed slightly just before he rolled them. “Oh, I see, you think you’re special because you have perfect vision.” 

You grinned up at him. “At least I said you were sexy.” 

He grumbled, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip. “Careful, or you’ll get detention.” 

You stifled a laugh, which further annoyed him. “Sorry. Not funny.” 

Jinyoung hated to be teased, and you knew it, but you couldn’t help getting a kick out of it. You loved that grumpy, unamused frown he threw at you whenever you challenged him. 

“Turn over.” 

You raised your brows, smile dropping from your lips. Oh. He looked down at you, eyes darkening with that familiar lustful glare. Your breath hitched in your chest as you flipped over onto your stomach, laying sideways on the bed with your ankles dangling off one end. 

When you tried to prop yourself up on your elbows, he pressed down onto your shoulders with a light pressure to keep you down. “Face down.” 

A tingle spread down your body, right to your core. What had started as a playful joke was quickly turning into something more, something you’d only fantasized about late at night when you were alone. 

Jinyoung sat on his knees, straddling your thighs, his weight just barely resting on you. Your heart was pounding in anticipation. His fingertips grazed down your back, starting between your shoulder blades until he was brushing against the curve of your lower back. 

“I thought we didn’t have much time?” you asked, turning your head to look back at him with one cheek pressed into his blankets. 

He glared down at you. “Every time you talk back to me, that’s one.” 

You gulped. “One what?” 

He barely hesitated before his hand came down against the center of your ass cheek. You whimpered, pressing your face into the blankets. The sting only lasted for a moment before you felt a pulse of pleasure low in your stomach. 

“Now,” Jinyoung started, his hand massaging the area where he’d just smacked. You took a deep breath in, desperately trying to keep your hips from squirming. “Are you going to be good for me?” 

You nodded vigorously, stealing a glance behind you. The look on his face reminded you of how he’d looked after Bambam’s party, demanding you to touch yourself. A look you’d thought about many, many times since. 

He shocked you when he smacked your ass again, your back arching involuntarily. “Use your words, angel.” 

“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good.” 

You were certain if his hand drifted down the few inches away from your ass to your entrance, he would feel just how wet he’d made you already. 

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I believe you. You don’t always listen. Always trying to make it difficult for me, aren’t you?” 

You shook your head. “N-no. I wanna be good for you, Jinyoung.” 

His tongue ran over his bottom lip slowly, giving you that familiar predatory gaze. “You’re gonna have to prove it to me.” His hands were massaging your ass again, stopping to squeeze the soft flesh every now and then. 

“How?” You asked, fear and arousal blooming in your chest. You knew whatever he had in store for you wouldn’t be easy.

Jinyoung trailed his right hand up your back again, pushing your hair aside so that you could see him without any obstruction. “Don’t come. No matter what.” 

Again, you swallowed hard. You wouldn’t be good at this game and you both knew it. He got you so hot so fast that you could never hold back, which wasn’t usually a problem, until now.

His hand traveled down your back, fingers grazing over the curve of your ass until they slipped down to your entrance. You watched his face, enthralled, as he gathered the wetness that had already dripped out of you and brought it to his lips to taste. You moaned. 

Jinyoung looked down at you, smirking. “Oh, that’s not a good sign. I barely even touched you. Try to control yourself, okay, baby? You can do it.” 

You bit down onto your lip again, nodding at him as you slid your hands up underneath of your head, gripping his blankets. “Okay.” 

When he finally slipped his fingers inside of you, your eyes fell shut. Only two fingers and you could tell you were squeezing around him, your current position doing nothing to give him easier access. 

He began a slow, torturous pace inside of you with his two fingers, scissoring them inside of you every few thrusts. You were whining and moaning into the blankets, your fingernails digging into the fabric. 

“So fucking tight. I wish you could see what I’m seeing right now—it’s heavenly.” 

You pressed your forehead into the blankets, teeth pressed hard into your lower lip as he twisted his fingers, turning his hand so that his thumb could massage your clit. You couldn’t help rolling your hips towards his fingers, wanting him deeper inside. 

“Jinyoung, please...” you whispered. 

“Hm? What was that?” he asked, squeezing your ass with his free hand. “You want more?” 

You opened your eyes to look back at him again and nodded. “Please.” 

The sight of him was enough to have your walls clenching on his fingers again. Eyebrows knitted together, completely focused on fucking into you with the perfect pace. The glasses were really just an added bonus. 

With no warning, he slipped a third finger inside of you.

“Fuck,” you groaned loudly, arching your back and fighting to spread your legs, even though they were caged in by Jinyoung’s thighs. 

This earned you another smack, followed by a gentle caress. 

“You’re not controlling yourself very well, are you, angel?” 

You fought back a sob and shook your head. “No, I’m sorry, I just-” you couldn’t finish your sentence, because Jinyoung had curled his fingers inside of you on his next thrust, pressing into your g-spot. 

Then he did it again. And again. 

You had never tried for anything as hard as you were now, desperately trying to keep your orgasm at bay. Heat spread through your entire body but you fought it, even though it made tears form in the corners of your eyes, even though it felt like you were about to explode. 

Jinyoung was receptive, he knew your body well enough that he knew just how close you were and how much effort you were putting into denying your body what it wanted so badly. 

He finally withdrew his fingers from you, but not without another harsh spank. His hands immediately soothed your skin, gently massaging your flesh as he leaned down over your back, kissing the spot between your shoulder blades.

“Such a good girl. You did so good.” 

You melted under his touch as your orgasm retreated. It had been so close, you wouldn’t have lasted much longer if he’d continued. Your skin burned where his hand had made contact and you knew it would hurt to sit tomorrow. 

“Want to stay like this, baby? Looks like it hurts.” 

You nodded with a pout, unfolding your arms from under your chest and stretching them above your head, relieving some of the tension from clenching the sheets in your fists. 

Jinyoung didn’t waste much time, pushing his sweatpants and underwear to his thighs. He looked hard as a rock, and you cursed the fact that you didn’t have enough time to give him a goodbye blowjob. The sight practically had your mouth watering. 

Then he was scooting up your legs, until the head of his cock nudged in between your thighs. He slid between your flesh a few times easily, as your skin was covered with the juices that had dripped out of you. 

You both let out satisfied moans once he slid inside your heat, already wet and beyond ready for him as you always were. 

Jinyoung leaned over you, bracing his hands on the bed on either side of your shoulders. With the rest of his weight resting on his knees, he rolled his hips towards you, pushing his length inside of you to the hilt. 

“Oh my God,” you moaned. It felt new, this depth that he’d reached inside of you. You leaned up on your forearms to arch yourself to a better angle, hips lifting up slightly. 

You were grateful he wasn’t gentle with you, you couldn’t handle that right now. You needed him, quick and deep, and that’s exactly the pace he began inside of you. The only sound in the room was his skin slapping yours and the desperate, throaty moans and pleas for more, more, more. 

Jinyoung ducked his head down to press kisses to your shoulder. It was the affection you needed, suddenly overwhelmed with the fact that he was leaving you. Only for a week and a half, but at the moment you couldn’t imagine living without him inside of you for one minute. That was how crazy he made you. 

“Jinyoung,” you begged, bending onto your elbow so that you could grip a hold of his arm next to you. Your name fell from his lips in response, over and over. You craned your neck to find his lips for a messy kiss, somewhat awkward from the angle, but it brought you even closer to the edge. 

“Close?” he asked against your lips before pulling away to press kisses against your jaw. You nodded, squeezing his arm tightly until your fingernails dug into his skin. 

Your nerves were on fire as the familiar tension built inside of you, beginning at your rib cage until it spread lower and lower. Jinyoung lowered onto his elbows until his front was pressed to your back, his hips never slowing or relenting. 

“Gonna come,” Jinyoung said with a groan, digging his teeth into the soft skin of your shoulder, the sharp pain sending a wave of electricity right to your clit. 

As the tension in your body snapped, you finally allowed yourself to tip over the edge, made more intense by the sensation of Jinyoung reaching his orgasm as well. Your thighs shook as you took every drop from him, letting him fill you. Your own climax hit you like a ton of bricks, fast and hard, your body quivering underneath of him in waves. 

Your body fell limp under his as you finally relaxed, absolutely exhausted from your orgasm. Jinyoung panted behind you, his lips still kissing your skin and whispering how good you were for him, how you fit him perfectly. You wished you weren’t in a daze, or you would have been able to focus on the husky, fucked out tone of his voice. 

Finally, he rolled off to the side, pulling his sweatpants back up over his hips. You were too worn out to move yet, so you just laid there on your stomach while you heard Jinyoung get up for a washcloth. He was always quick to clean you up and you were eternally grateful, especially now. You were pretty sure he’d just taken years off of your life. 

You let him move you however he needed in order to clean you up, and as Jinyoung tossed the washcloth to the side, he stared down at you with raised brows. 

“You okay?” he asked. You could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Mm,” you replied, arms unwinding from underneath yourself again to stretch them out, wiggling your fingers. “You just fucked the life out of me. Officially.” 

Jinyoung chuckled, a hand caressing your back as he laid on his side next to you. “Do you think it was the glasses?” he asked as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

You opened your eyes to look at him, your lips spreading into a grin. “Probably.” 

Even though you had a no cuddling rule, and a no unnecessary kissing rule, you didn’t fight it when Jinyoung brought you into his arms and melted your lips together. 

You blamed it on your exhausted state. 

~~~

“Forrest Gump! Forrest Gump!” Sana whisper-shouted, slapping her pencil down on the restaurant table. “Why isn’t anyone listening to me?!” 

“Because you’re wrong,” Yugyeom replied. “It’s Shawshank Redemption.” 

You sat between Bambam and Jackson in the crowded diner booth as Sana and Yugyeom argued across from you. This was how it’d gone all night. It had been Yugyeom’s bright idea to participate in a trivia night instead of your usual movie night for the month and you were quickly regretting it. 

Jinyoung hated trivia games and never wanted to go when it was suggested, which you suspected was because he hated being wrong. Now that he was away on business, you’d decided to give it a try. It had been a mistake.

Yugyeom was, apparently, fiercely competitive, which would have been okay if Sana wasn’t exactly the same way. You wanted to win, sure, but your two friends were starting to get out of hand with their arguing and butting heads. 

“Okay, okay,” you said, trying to get them to simmer down. People had been staring at you all night, clearly bothered by the constant bickering. “Someone just write down an answer because he’s coming around to get our sheets!” 

Yugyeom snatched the pencil from Sana, scribbling down his favored answer just in time for the host to collect your papers. It was the last round, and you had been in first place the last time they’d checked scores. 

“I hope you’re happy,” Sana sneered, crossing her arms. 

“Oh my God, stop,” you told her, slapping her arm lightly. “It’s just a game! And here we thought Jinyoung would be the problem.” 

The familiar fluttering bloomed in your heart as you spoke his name, which you did your best to shove down just as you had for the last five days since Jinyoung had been gone. You tried to convince yourself your body missed him, not you specifically. 

You pulled out your phone as soon as the host announced you were free to do so, scrolling through your texts until you found your message with Jinyoung. You’d been talking a lot this last week. The convention was this weekend, and in New York it was about time for him to be waking up to get ready.

You: so… we decided to go to trivia tonight You: it’s a blood bath in here

Jinyoung: Ugh. Trivia. 

You: yeah yeah. good morning, by the way :)

Jinyoung: Good morning. How was your day? 

You: good. busy, but in a good way You: are you excited for today??

Jinyoung: Excited? No. Prepared? Also no. But I’m ready to just get on with it already. 

You: it’s gonna be so much fun!!! you get to talk about books all day!!!!!

Jinyoung: Ugh. It’s way too early in my day for all those exclamation points

You: soooo dramaticcccccccc

Jinyoung: Hey, be nice to me, I’m nervous

You: okay okay. you’re going to do great today you know

Jinyoung: I’ll do my best. 

You: shhh. it’ll be great. i’ll stay up late tonight in case you need to call me.

Jinyoung: Good. I miss you. 

“Why are you making that face?” Sana asked, snapping you out of your text trance. 

Your head shot up and you looked around with wide eyes. You’d literally forgotten where you were in the last five minutes. 

“Huh? What face?” 

“Are you… blushing?” Sana replied. “Who are you texting?! It better not be-”

“It’s not Jaebeom!” you said, defensively. 

You hadn’t even talked to him since Bambam’s party when you’d left him on the dance floor. You still felt guilty, but couldn’t bring yourself to reach out to him and open that can of worms. 

“Who is it?” 

You brought your phone to your chest, hiding the screen from your friends. Yugyeom looked confused, Bambam looked mildly amused, and Jackson was eating cheese fries. It truly summed up your friendship. 

“No one.” 

A look of hurt flashed in Sana’s eyes. “Why won’t you tell me who it is?” 

You deflated a bit. It had been difficult in more ways than one having to keep your arrangement with Jinyoung a secret from Sana and the rest of your friends. You hated lying, period, but especially to your best friend. 

“Because it’s…” you looked around at the rest of the table, then down at your phone. “It’s not, like… a real thing.”

“She’s texting Jinyoung!”

Your head whipped in Jackson’s direction. He had blurted the words out like word vomit, and now looked as if the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders. 

“Were you looking at my phone?!” you asked, feeling somewhat violated. 

“No!” he replied. “I’ve known for…” his eyes looked upward as he counted on his fingers. “Six weeks.” 

“Six weeks?! You’ve been dating Jinyoung for six weeks?” Sana asked, her jaw practically dropping to the table. 

You cleared your throat. “Two months. And we’re not dating! We’re just having sex.”

Sana stared blankly at you, not even noticing when the trivia hosts began going over the correct answers. “I knew you were seeing someone, I just thought it was Jaebeom. What… how…?”

“Wait, when did you find out?” you asked Jackson. 

“Well…” he looked down, heaving a deep breath. “At Bambam’s party, he chewed me out in the bathroom for dancing with you and being, you know, touchy. I feared for my life, but also figured something had to be going on for him to get jealous like that. I asked him the next day and he spilled everything.”

You had no idea he’d gotten angry with Jackson. If anything, you’d assumed all his anger had been directed at you. And, besides, you’d settled it later on at his apartment. 

“Hold on,” Yugyeom cut in. “You’re not dating Jinyoung, you’re just sleeping together? Like… friends with benefits?” 

You shrugged. “Yeah. We were both lonely and trying to get over feelings for other people, so we figured…” 

Sana was rubbing her temples, clearly having a tough time coming to terms with this revelation. “Just sleeping together?”

“Yeah. Why is that so hard to believe? People do it all the time.”

“Uh, no. I don’t know anyone that started sleeping with their friend of ten years so they can get over their crush, also of ten years. This is possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows together. “Okay, it’s really not that bad. It’s casual, we're just having fun.”

“Are you telling her that or yourself?” Jackson interrupted. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” You held your hands up. “This is exactly why we didn’t tell anyone. We knew you’d all be judgmental and worry that I’m going to get hurt-“

“Maybe you aren’t the one we’re worried about!”

The entire table fell silent, all eyes on Sana. Including the trivia host, who’d just announced that the correct answer to the last question had been Forrest Gump. 

When the chatter started to pick up again and another team was crowned the winner, you shook your head, confused. 

“What do you mean? Why would you be worried about Jinyoung?”

You looked around at your friends, but nobody would meet your eyes. Jackson looked especially tortured, clearly conflicted with his loyalty to you and Jinyoung separately. 

Finally, Sana sighed, relaxing back into her seat. “A few years ago, when you had gone home for your mom’s birthday, we all went out one night. The four of us, Jinyoung, and Yeri. Those two started bickering about an hour in, and Yeri ended up leaving. So Jinyoung got absolutely hammered, and we went to some shady pizza place to sober up. Before we even got our pizza, he told us how he’d liked you since middle school, but was ready to finally give up because you were obsessed with Jaebeom and you’d never see him that way. He vowed to get over you if it was the last thing he did.” 

You could only blink at your friend. It all sounded… not right. How could he have liked you without your knowledge? When had he stopped liking you? It made no sense. 

“But he was with Yeri then,” was all you could say. 

“Yes, he was,” Jackson replied. “And he’d been texting you all night before she got pissed off and left.” 

It had never, not even once, occurred to you that Jinyoung had feelings for you. Certainly not before you started having sex. You’d been friends, and he had never crossed any lines with you, even after he and Yeri broke up. 

“I don’t…” you shook your head, staring down at Jinyoung’s last message. 

I miss you. 

“Listen, I don’t know when he stopped liking you, but this just… doesn’t seem like a good idea.” Sana reached for your hand across the table and gave it a squeeze. “Is it worth risking your friendship?” 

The question had entered your mind more times than you could count in the last two months. But after a while, you’d just gotten used to it. You liked the bubble you lived in, where you could just enjoy the present without worrying about the consequences. 

Your heart felt like it was going to drop into your stomach.

“If it helps,” Bambam said, placing a comforting hand on your wrist. “I was blacked out that night and had no fucking clue until just now.” 

It didn’t help. You just shook your head again, reaching down between your feet for your purse. “I need to go. Sorry. I just need…”

You never finished your sentence. Jackson let you out of the booth and you rushed out of the diner, greeted by the warm summer air. You placed your hand between your ribs, willing your heart to slow its pounding.  

So, he’d liked you. For a while. At least until a few years ago—while he was with Yeri. Why hadn’t he ever said anything? 

Would it have mattered? You had tunnel vision for Jaebeom until this whole arrangement had begun, and you’d never seen Jinyoung in that way before that first night. You knew yourself, you would have let him down easy and continued chasing after Jaebeom. 

You started to walk in the direction of your apartment. It was a long walk, but it was doable. You needed the time to clear your head. 

More puzzle pieces started to fall into place the more you thought about it. 

He and Jaebeom had been so close, like brothers, until you graduated high school. Then Jinyoung started getting a sour look whenever you asked about the other boy and you learned to avoid the topic. 

Yeri had never liked you. It hurt your feelings the entire span of their relationship, because you couldn’t figure out why. If she knew how Jinyoung felt, or even suspected it... of course she wouldn’t like you. 

As much as you wanted to believe it was all a misunderstanding, you couldn’t deny the truth staring you in the face. Jinyoung had liked you for years, and you had no idea. 

You needed to figure out your own heart. You didn’t have feelings for him, you were sure of it. It was just biological—good sex messed with your head, that’s all. 

And yet…

The only thing that made sense was that Jinyoung no longer felt this way about you. He’d decided to get over you, and you knew he accomplished any goal he set his mind to. 

You should have felt relief, but you didn’t. You couldn’t quite identify the sadness in your heart, the utter hollowness at missing something you never knew you could’ve had. 

When you finally got back to your apartment, both your mind and your feet were tired. You dragged yourself to the bathroom, wiping off your makeup and brushing your hair into a ponytail. 

Maybe it was your exhaustion. Maybe you were tired, in general, of holding that barrier up. The one thing separating you from what could either be the best thing that ever happened to you, or soul crushing heartbreak.

As you crawled into bed and pulled your knees up to your chest, you finally let the wall come down and held the feeling that fell into your palms safe and close to your heart like a firefly. Just this once, you recognized the terrifying truth you’d been denying for weeks.

You were falling in love. 

#writing #got7 #park jinyoung #jinyoung #got7 fic #got7 fanfic #jinyoung fic #jinyoung fanfic #got7 smut #jinyoung smut #got7 scenario #got7 reaction #jinyoung imagine #prettywordsyouleft #travelleratheart101 #peayourdailysoftie #nosnakeuthankyou

[amjcpvr]

Green Apple, Sadly.

“Green Apple for sure!” He calls out.

Guessing Skittle flavors is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my fucking life.

“Wrong!” I cackle and he continues to name the rest of the flavors, one after the other until he only has one choice left.

“Damn it, it was orange!” He cries and I laugh at him.

He scrunches his eyebrows at me, immediately bringing his competitiveness out. I smile, because this is definitely the Changbin I know.

He yells at me to close my eyes and I laugh before obeying and putting my palm out.

“If you get this right, I will say it’s wrong anyway,” he jokes, I hear the class go silent and he laughs nervously as he faces the professor.

“Haha, just kidding, guys, it was a joke,” I can’t help but to laugh because I can just see him fidgeting in his seat after suddenly being the center of attention.

“Grape!” I easily say as I swivel the small candy in my mouth. He groans and marks down another tally mark for the amount I got correct.

“Ten for ten!” I brag to him and he just rolls his eyes with a small smile.

I am about to place another skittle in his hand when he opens his mouth with his eyes closed.

“I think my sweaty palms are taking away the flavor, put it in my mouth!” He exclaims as he eagerly opens his mouth even wider.

My eyes widen and I tense up for a moment.

I have never felt this way before. My stomach begins feeling queasy and the back of my neck begins sweating like crazy.

I gulp and smile nervously.

I toss it into his mouth, carefully planning every angle so I don’t have to touch his lips.

“Strawberry?” He asks unsurely and looks at me with hopeful eyes.

I shake my head no with a big grin and he stomps his feet childishly.

He begins whining and I feel my chest squeeze. What was this feeling?

————————

“Hey! I’ve been meaning to introduce you two!” Changbin runs up to me and I smile the best I can because I already know what’s coming.

“This is her, babe,” He continues and the beautiful girl standing next to him smiles brightly. She’s everything he told me about.

I feel my lips shake and I clear my throat and try to compose myself.

I guess it’s my fault for working at a movie theatre.

“Nice to meet you! He literally never stops talking about you! Boy is whipped!” I try joking and it seems they both buy it.

They burst out into laughs and share a sweet kiss.

I hear someone clear their throat and their attention goes to my coworker now, Jisung. Who is also Changbin’s friend.

“Bro, order or get out of the line,” Jisung sternly says but Changbin takes no offense and instead laughs before ordering and I am finally free from that torture.

Why me?

————————

“Go team!” Someone sarcastically comments as they spot the baseball team walk by with their letterman’s jacket on. The school had organized a send off for their upcoming competition.

I keep my eyes wide as I search for the only guy I care for on the team. I start to get worried because he does not show up at all and almost the whole team has passed already.

Finally, I see him in the back walking with his girlfriend and Jisung. My smile shrinks visibly but I cannot take my eyes off of the sight anyway. He looks amazing in that jacket and he walks confidently, taking in his sudden moment of fame.

We meet eyes and he smiles widely. I want to look away but I can’t. It’s like he has bewitched me.

He raises a hand and waves it wildly. I send him a small smile and two thumbs up before mouthing out a ‘good luck’ and he responds with a loud ‘thanks’.

Something about that interaction is unmatchable to anything else. How was he able to spot me in such a huge crowd? Why did he reply to me when he was with his girlfriend?

He shouldn’t give me false hope.

————————

“They say you find your soulmate before you even turn 21,” he randomly comments as we sit beside each other studying.

“They say you should shut up and study,” I groan back. I am currently stressed with all these numbers and signs and this stupid calculator that has one too many functions.

“Do you think you’ve found yours?” He asks as he doodles around his notes, completely ignoring my words.

“I think you should study,” I repeat. I really do need to study because I’m failing class, but of course there is another reason for why I want him to be quiet, as well.

He seems to be bringing this type of thing up a lot nowadays and I am not comfortable with it at all.

“I think I’ve found mine,” he cryptically says but even the little ant walking on the table knows who he is talking about. The sparkle in his eyes gives it away easily.

“I’m going to my dorm, bye,” I comment and leave.

I should’ve never let the feelings get to me.

————————

“I don’t appreciate you talking about me behind my back,” I growl as I stare at him and even though I am mad pissed, I am also strongly hurt.

“I’m sorry. You’re right,” he easily accepts defeat and that just makes me even more mad.

“What were you talking to Seungmin about?” I ask as I increase our distance each time he wants to decrease it.

“It’s n-nothing,” he stutters. That means whatever they were talking about would make me very disappointed or even more pissed.

“Tell. Me.” I demand and he sighs.

He lowers his head as if he is ashamed of himself and takes a deep breath.

“He told me it looked like you were coming onto me and, honestly, I felt it too,” he whispers out. The answer is barely audible and I have to lean in to hear him clearly, but when I hear what he says I become a statue.

It is true. It is a hundred percent true and I have no right to call him out for it.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Changbin?” I have no right, but I do it anyway.

“I know! I’m sorry, I really am. I was stupid to even think about it,” he hurriedly says before I can burst on him.

“Is that why you’ve been asking me all these stupid questions? Our first impressions, soulmates, ideal type of boyfriend?” I roar as this time I walk towards him and he backs up.

“I can’t believe you think of me like that,” I laugh cynically and shake my head.

“I’m just an easy girl who loves breaking relationships up, huh? You happened to be my next victim so you were trying to catch me before I began to ruin your relationship. Thanks a lot,” I continue and glare straight at him.

His back hits the wall and I realize that he is not trying to defend himself and he’s just taking the hits.

“Don’t ever talk behind my back again,” I say and then I am out of there as if I was never there.

I realize that I need to maintain my distance from now on.

For everyone’s sake.

————————

“Does it hurt?” Jisung asks me out of nowhere.

I look at him weirdly and question what he means with my eyes.

“When he talks about his girlfriend in front of you?” He clarifies and I nod to acknowledge that I understood now.

“Yes, but it wakes me up. We’re so close to each other that sometimes I forget he’s taken. It makes me remember I have no chance with him and to stay in my lane,” I reply with a shrug as if my heart isn’t breaking into a million pieces just by thinking about it.

When he talks about her his eyes light up and he can go on for hours about her. He’s so proud of her and so whipped for her. She is everything to him. I stand zero chance. Always did, always will.

“That sucks,” he comments and ruffles his hair.

I chuckle. Oh yes indeed.

————————

“Dude, why have you been so distant?” He asks. We are currently in our criminology lecture and the professor is going on and on about how his wife is cheating on him.

“Honestly?” I ask him. I didn’t want to tell him the truth but that’s all I could tell him. No more lies.

I’m going to look like a fool, completely going against everything I had yelled at him for only a couple weeks earlier. But around him, I am always the fool anyway.

He nods as if that was an obvious factor to include.

“I…” I hesitate and look away from his stare.

He always looks at me straight in the eyes and I hate that about him. He never gives me an opportunity to defend myself. He knows I am weak to his beautiful dark eyes.

“I started catching feelings and I couldn’t handle it. It would just bring problems to everyone, so I decided to put some space between us,” I say looking straight back at him. He wants the truth? Well here it is.

He sits there shocked for what seems like forever before he finally clears his throat and looks away.

I gulp because even though I seemed sure of my decision and insisted on telling the truth, I was very insecure from that reaction.

He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the class and when it finally ends we leave without saying goodbye to each other.

This is for the best.

————————

“Congratulations, you guys made it! Good luck in your next semester, or in life, whichever is next for you all!” The professor ends class and I smile.

Finally, we can have time off, something I’ve longed for since Changbin and I had parted ways.

After the day I confessed, we stopped, everything.

No more sitting by each other, no more catching up, it was like we were never even friends.

I still see him sometimes, but always from afar.

I look over to him. He’s sitting beside Jisung, finishing up something on his laptop before closing it and standing.

I stay seated and pull my phone out pretending to be busy.

“I’ll, I’ll catch up to you later,” he tells Jisung and I gulp as I feel Jisung turn to me.

Jisung simply agrees and exits the lecture hall.

Finally, I stand and begin walking across my row to exit the room.

I see him out of the corner of my eye, getting closer, so I increase my speed.

Things were finally going to be okay again, why did he want to ruin it?

“Hey! I’m sorry!” He yells right as the door closes. I run out before he even has a chance of speaking to me.

I see Jisung standing by the door and he only hands me a tissue before walking away.

I hurriedly run in the opposite direction before Changbin could find me again.

Now, it was truly over.

Finally.

Sadly.

#stray kids #changbin #seo changbin #spear b #jisung han #skz han #skz changbin #j.one #3racha #stray kids angst #skz angst

[jksmoongf]

Kissing Fire [pt. 12] *final*

Pairing: Jungkook x reader x girlfriend (oc) Genre: cheater!AU, angst, smut Wordcount: 16.7k Warning: smut, lies, heartbreak and more lies and maybe fluff if you squint

Summary: It always feels like there is only one person in the world to love. And then you find somebody else.

a/n: I don’t condone cheating on your s.o., so please don’t read if you have a problem with this! (also I’m not saying this is something Jungkook would actually do!) **a/n: It’s been a long time coming but it’s finally here and I really hope none of you are disappointed! As always, some feedback would be lovely! I wanna thank @struggleofarmy​ for always helping me, and encouraging me and sobbing with me through the long process of writing this chapter! Thank you D. - I love you!!! 💕💕💕 And I need to thank @jaxonah​ for her big brain and planning with me, literally, the entire fic ( y’all can thank her, bc Sammy inspired KF and without her, it would've never happened!) Thank you bby! I love you so much, you don't even understand!  💜💜💜

Warning chapter 12: crying (it’s an emotional rollercoaster or maybe just an angst-fest who knows), smut ( handjob (female/male receiving), minor tiddie play, grinding,  good ol’ vanilla sex with a surprise at the end, as always unprotected, but pls use protection ), profanities, fluff (you’ll need a magnifying glass to find it), Jk doing dumb irrational things (no spoilers on that tho) Song rec: Every Avenue - Between You and I (please listen to it, it’s beautiful and just reflects the entire fic so well. it really sets the tone for this last chapter.) 

Namjoon was hiding in his studio; hunched over, he cowered at his desk just tiredly scrolling through his favorite online clothing store. Distraction was his main priority at this point, he tried so hard to not overthink or go looking for more hateful comments that would send him into a downwards spiral. His face was hidden underneath the hood of his big comfy sweater, his eyes quickly scanned each item but ultimately deciding that he didn’t really like any of them enough to make a purchase. Whenever he stopped, his brain went into a frenzy the past few days, the exhaustion creeping up on him; he always thought he should have everything under control but the current situation proved him wrong. He felt powerless, not knowing how to handle all the negative articles that were being published in an abundance every hour. A weak knock made him flinch involuntarily, and when the door quietly opened bare feet waddling on the hardwood floor told him that he wasn’t alone anymore. “Hyung…” He knew the soft familiar voice all too well, but for reasons, he couldn’t explain goosebumps traveled down his back before he slowly spun around in his chair. The youngest was standing by the small wooden coffee table, dressed in all black as if he was mourning the death of a loved one and to a certain extent, Namjoon was sure, he was. He was mourning the loss of his relationship that had only just begun. “What’s up?” He had avoided being alone with the maknae; he didn’t quite know how to speak to him at this very moment in time. It was almost like an invisible barrier was separating them, making it awkward to even look him in the eyes. “I just wanted to talk to you…” “About what?” His heartbeat was quickening, Jungkook wasn’t a kid anymore but he still needed his older brothers, maybe now more than ever before. “You know…” He shuffled his feet, looking uncomfortable and out of place like he was about to change his mind and leave but he made his way around the table to sit down on the small couch. His eyes rested on him as he inhaled deeply to gain more time. “About everything that has been going on…I-I just want…” Without warning the younger boy bowed, averting his gaze to his knees. “I’m sorry, I really am.” “Jungkookie, don’t do that. You-“ The words got stuck in his throat, Namjoon knew how much it must have taken out of him to even come here and try to talk to him. Jungkook looked up to him, it wasn’t a secret that he had always had a big impact on the youngest member. But right now, the queasy feeling in Namjoon’s stomach made him feel like he failed not only as a role model but even worse, as a big brother. “No, I have to. I know, I disappointed you.” He wanted to object but couldn’t. As much as he blamed himself for what happened, he was disappointed in Jungkook and his reckless behavior. After all those years in the industry, he thought that all of them had a better understanding of how careful they had to be when it came to their privacy and personal lives. He wanted to chalk it up to Jungkook being young but he should’ve known better. 

“I hate to say it but you’re right.” A shaky breath left his lungs when he finally managed to speak, tearing down the wall that had kept all of his emotions and thoughts at bay. “I am disappointed in you. You know, I keep asking myself where it all went wrong…did we not teach you right from wrong? Did we, no - did I fail at teaching you that you need to be careful and that your personal life should never interfere with our job? Have you not learned anything from being in the industry for years? Why didn’t you think ahead? Why didn’t you delete those videos? Why did you even take them to begin with? Why didn’t you break up with your girlfriend before you started cheating on her? I have so many questions and I’m not even sure I want to know the answers because I’m afraid that it will hurt and cause more pain. You’re still my little brother but I’m questioning everything these days - I feel like I’ve failed you in so many ways.”

Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat; he didn’t know how or where to start with explaining himself. Did Namjoon even want to hear what he had to say? Would he even believe him? 

The palms of his hands were clammy as he folded them together to keep them from shaking. “Hyung, you didn’t fail just because I make mistakes. Please don’t blame yourself for something that I did…” He didn’t want to cry but the tears were already prodding at the corners of his eyes. All of them were mad at him and disappointed, it wasn’t just his image that was ruined, he tarnished the group's image forever with his stupidity. The voice inside his head that had been fairly quiet was getting louder with every second that passed - his heart hurt that he didn’t think far enough ahead to know that what they had been doing was reckless and could cause so much trouble and harm but alas, he knew that you’re always smarter looking back on your previous actions. 

“I do think I am at least partially to blame. I know, I have been busy and I wasn’t always there for you when you needed me for guidance but a part of me was hoping that you would make the right decisions regardless…I don’t want to lecture you, I don’t want to act like I can tell you what to do, Jungkook but I do feel responsible for you and your actions.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as his fingers intertwined with each other, his nails pressing into the delicate skin on his knuckles. “I don’t condone that you cheated on Yina and lied to all of us for so long but I do understand that you fell out of love and fell in love with someone else. It hurts that you didn’t think you could trust any of us enough to tell us or come to us for advice. We’re a family, yes, we will tell you the truth when you fuck up but we will always be here for you, we always have each other’s backs. I really thought you would have stopped for a moment to think of the consequences it could have when you took those videos but I guess, I expected too much from you. You’re only 22 years old and you are allowed to make mistakes but I just can’t help but think that somewhere along the way I messed up when you needed me.” Namjoon blinked when he saw a few stray tears rolling down Jungkook’s puffy cheeks; he didn’t want his words to hurt him but he needed to get them off his chest and if he didn’t do it now, he would probably never get a second chance. “You really didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t even know why I did most of those things. I know, I knew better even back then.” His hand automatically slid into the pocket of his hoodie to wrap around the white gold bangle, he had been carrying around ever since she gave it back to him two nights ago. “I know, I should’ve come to you, but at first I thought I just had a silly crush on y/n and it wasn’t even worth mentioning. I thought it would fade away over time but it didn’t, it only got stronger and I was too weak to fight my feelings and when we got into this web of sneaking around and lying, I just couldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me because… I-I look up to you so much, what you think of me matters to me and seeing that look of disappointment on your face…I never wanted to see that…” He croaked, trying to dim the tears flowing down his face with his sleeve. “I just wanted all of you to be proud of me, especially you, hyung but I knew that once you found out about what I did, you would be ashamed so I kept it a secret.” It felt like someone was standing on his chest, making it harder to breathe with every word he spoke.

The countless times Namjoon had seen Jungkook cry before never hurt as much as it did now; he was breaking down in front of him. Tears spilling from the big brown eyes with no sign of stopping; he wanted to get up and comfort him but he couldn’t move, it was almost like he was glued to his chair; forced to endure the punishment of seeing the youngest falling apart. “Why did you take those videos and for goodness sake why didn’t you delete them right after?” “I don’t know, it was the only thing we had when we couldn’t be together. After y/n had taken the first video…it was exciting, I liked watching it back and I’m so stupid for not thinking that it could get me in trouble.” The pressure inside his head was building up rapidly as the tears just kept coming, making his vision blurry. “We were so caught up in our little bubble of lying that we thought we were safe. We had minor scares here and there but nobody ever caught us so it never crossed my mind that somebody might get a hold of those videos after we managed to keep us a secret for so many months.” 

The older one took the inside of his cheek between his teeth, index finger tapping on his lips. “When I think back to all the excuses you made to leave with her, or how many times I saw you two leaving rooms at the company, I never would’ve thought that you were capable of doing what you did…”

“I was selfish, I put myself first to get what I want. I couldn’t bear the thought of breaking Yina’s heart and I felt horrible but I hurt her in so many ways and I know she will never forgive me and now I’m paying the price for what I’ve put her through.” His quivering lips pressed together tightly as Jungkook tried to stay in control of his body that was flooding with all the things he didn’t want to feel. “Y/n broke up with me…” He finally pulled the bracelet from his pocket, closing his eyes as his fingers traced the metal, wishing he could melt it to fix the cracks in his heart. “I deserve it, I don’t get to be happy after what I did and if I could turn back time and do the right thing - I would but I can’t. I deserve all the mean comments people are making about me, and they would rip me to shreds if they knew the whole story.” “You’ll have to forgive yourself; every day you’re growing and learning more. Next time you won’t make the same mistake again.” “How am I supposed to forgive myself when everyone hates me? Especially you guys…I can see it when you look at me, how disappointed and disgusted you are. You’re trying to be nice because we’re family but I broke your trust and I don’t even know how to fix things with Tae. He won’t even look at me, it’s like I don’t exist. I feel so lost, I want to fix everything but how do I do that? How do I get all of you to trust me again? How do I get Taehyung to forgive me? How do I make all the mean things people are saying go away? How do I get y/n back? I miss her.” In order to suppress a sob, he sunk his teeth into the soft flesh of his bottom lip - replacing the painful contractions of his heart with a stinging feeling that would soon subside.   A sigh escaped Namjoon’s lips before he rubbed his face with both of his hands. “I honestly wish I had the answers to all your questions but I think you need to focus on yourself right now. Be open and honest, not only with yourself but with the other members and you’ll see they’ll learn to trust you again. As for Taehyung, he needs time and you’ll just have to wait it out until he is ready to talk to you.” “W-wouldn’t it be easier if I just left the group? I don’t want to drag you down with me more than I already have.” He chuckled at the ridiculousness of the youngest statement. “Jungkookie, no! It’s either sink or swim and right now is the time to swim to stay afloat. You’ll have to fight to make things right again but you can come back from this. Right now it seems like you won’t; like it is the end of the world but you can and you will come out of this stronger.” Jungkook looked up and for the first time in days, he locked eyes with the leader. “It’s a little too late now, I know, but what would you do if you were in my shoes, hyung?”  Namjoon took a deep breath; he wasn’t sure if Jungkook would like his answer or not but after thinking about the options, he came to the conclusion that there was only one thing that would calm down the raging fans and the rest of the public who seemed to care too much about celebrity gossip. “If I were in your shoes, I would make a public apology. Get in front of the camera and own your mistake. Promise them that you’ll do better in the future. It will be a lot easier than hiding and waiting it out until they find a new scandal to bad-mouth somebody else.” Jungkook nodded, Namjoon only had his best interest at heart but the thought of having to stand in front of the cameras and owning up to his mistake scared him to death. What if they attacked him like starving animals? What if he messed up again and he would have to flee the country so they wouldn’t be able to lapidate him?

* After buttoning up her jacket, she looked in the small mirror on the wall - shocked to see that the concealer she had put on before work, had lost its power, making her look like she was ready to star in a zombie movie in a just a matter of hours. Sleep wasn’t easy to find; her thoughts always circling in around Jungkook and how much she missed him, missed his voice and his touch. She knew, she would be feeling like this for a while, yet she didn’t know how draining it would be. Of all the boyfriends she had been with before, none of them had anchored themselves inside her heart, unlike Jungkook who seemed to have superglued himself in place and there was no way to rip him out like an unwanted parasite. But maybe she was the parasite who poisoned his life and ruined his career; maybe all those girls were right when they said that she was the one to blame - that she was standing in the way of his future as if she hadn’t done enough damage already. No matter how badly she wanted to believe that their love was real, maybe it wasn’t. He was too good for her and she began to feel like she should just go back home to get as much space between them as possible - just in case their paths would cross again and she would get another chance at ruining his life. Shaking her head to banish the bad thoughts, a small smile tugged at her lips. Ha-na had told her not to read what people were saying online but she was weak and some girls made excellent points, she wasn’t pretty enough for Jungkook and maybe she should be pushed down the stairs because nobody would miss her anyway, especially not Jungkook. “Y/n, don’t forget to take home your new blouses.” Byungchul called as he passed by the staff room, stopping in his tracks. “I won’t.” She bowed to her boss. “What are you still doing here anyway?” He cocked an eyebrow, eyeing her suspiciously. He had told her to go home a while ago but she couldn’t bring herself to leave because if she did, she would have to be alone in her head and work was the only distraction she had. “I-I…I’m leaving now.” “Good, go home and get some rest, you look tired.” “I will.” She smiled weakly as she shouldered her bag and grabbed the little bundle of neatly folded white blouses. When she stepped outside, the cold air immediately filled her lungs and clearing her head momentarily. It would take her a lot longer to walk home but it was better than being crammed into the metro with people and even worse, maybe hearing his name somewhere that would send her into a downwards spiral of hurt and guilt. Her legs felt heavy as she dragged them over the concrete, the other people around her seemed to not have a care in the world. Everyone looked so happy, especially the couple in front of her holding hands. It wasn’t that she didn’t want others to be happy but the simple fact that Jungkook and her had never got to do just that, brought tears to her eyes. It all ended too quickly - if only they could have had one more perfect day together. 

The hard sounding footsteps of someone running echoed loudly in the store lined street but when she turned around, she only saw people walking alongside her, some of them even turned their heads to make out where it was coming from. “You’re in the way.” A girl brushed past her, bumping into her arm. “I’m sorry.” She bowed her head slightly, deciding that she probably had just been in her head too much and it had just been a figment of her imagination when suddenly someone ripped the bundle from her hand and ran down the street. It took her a moment to wrap her head around what just happened before her instincts kicked in and she hurried after the person in the black jacket. “Hey! Stop!” Her voice was weak, but to her surprise, her legs moved a lot faster than she had anticipated and she never lost sight of them, even with all those strangers around who’s faces were just a blur.

The person made a right turn into a smaller street off the side and when she finally turned the corner, she stopped in her tracks. The bundle had been ripped apart and the crisp white blouses were lying on the dirty street. Dropping her bag on the floor, she scurried to pick them up, trying to prevent them from getting ruined when someone yanked her ponytail. * Ha-na was sitting on the comfy sofa in the living room, Taehyung was resting his head on her shoulder while he busied himself on his Nintendo Switch. She was glad that he tried to distract himself and finally came out of his room, at least for a few hours, although he wasn’t speaking much to anyone that wasn’t her or his best friend. Jimin was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, the hood of his sweater pulled down deep to cover most of his face while the youngest was sitting on the floor next to him staring blankly at the tv just like the rest of the members. The atmosphere felt dense, everyone was just waiting for Sejin to come back to the dorms - he had texted Namjoon earlier that they had finally gotten a lead on who had leaked the videos. Ha-na still felt bad about everything that had happened, she had only wanted for Jungkook to do the right thing and everything just got out of hand. Her eyes rested on the bracelet he was holding, his fingers clinging onto the metal so tightly that the blood flow was low and his hand was shaking ever so slightly. When Jin had jokingly tried to take it away from him earlier, Jungkook had almost started throwing a tantrum. Would things ever go back to normal again? Going against everything she had told the others, it had become part of her routine to check any social media and news outlets for articles. She hated seeing that everyone seemed to have an opinion on Jungkook and y/n and spreading false rumors and lies that made everything worse. She was glad though that neither her boyfriend nor the youngest went online to see what people were saying, it would only put more strain on their already broken friendship. For once there had been no new publications but twitter was chaotic as always when she stumbled upon a tweet from a fan that caught her attention, linking to a video. ‘The bitch got what she deserved!’ Hesitantly Ha-na clicked on it, the quality was shaky and someone was breathing heavily and running while filming the street when loud voices could be heard in the near distance. “Oh my god! No.” She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes focused on the screen. She wanted to look away, yet she couldn’t despite being repulsed by what she saw. “What’s up?” Taehyung sat up, trying to get a glimpse of what she was watching. “Nothing…” Not managing to lock her screen in time before he had already snatched it from her hand. The pure expression of shock on his face sent shivers down her body - she didn’t want him to see it, it would hurt him so much. He mumbled something, the others’ attention now on him as his eyes grew wider by the second. “What is it?” Jimin scooted over to his best friend to see what he was looking at. “Y/n…” In the blink of an eye, everyone had gathered around them, watching how a group of girls was pulling her hair, slapping her and calling her names, while she was on the ground trying to cover her face, pleading with them to leave her alone. The video wasn’t long, and after watching it a second time, Taehyung quickly dropped the phone and got up, hurrying to the small bathroom. Carefully her eyes wandered to Jungkook, his whole body was shaking and tears were streaming down his cheeks. Ha-na wasn’t sure how he was feeling; was he hurt, angry, disappointed or sad? His face showed no emotion, simply staring into nothingness, yet she knew there was a storm brewing inside of him. Seeing faceless comments through a screen was bad but actually hearing the words ‘you ruined his career, kill yourself’ coming from someone made her feel sick to her stomach. “That was…wow…” Hoseok breathed out, before rubbing his eyes in disbelief. “We have to do something, we can’t just let this happen.” “I’m going to see if she’s okay!” Jungkook grabbed his hoodie, ready to head for the door when Jimin quickly hopped over the back of the couch to stand in his way. “You can’t do that, you’ll get in trouble. You know, y/n wouldn’t want that. I’m sure, she’s fine.” He grabbed Jungkook’s arm, stopping him from pushing past him. “How can you say that? Those girls hit her because of me! I know her better than any of you, I know she’s not okay, I can feel it.” He tried wrenching his arm from Jimin’s grasp. “Hyung, get out of the way.” It was a weak warning, his voice getting caught in his throat. “Jungkook-ah, sit down.” Namjoon finally spoke up. “We can text or call her but you’re not allowed to leave the apartment without supervision so calm down.” The youngest caved in under the stern look on their leader’s face and slumped down on the couch, burying his face in his hands. “They say, she ruined my career but do they not know how much it would hurt me when they hurt her?” The eldest gently wrapped his arm around his shoulder. “I don’t think they were thinking that far ahead, they wanted to protect you-” Jungkook scoffed. “Protect me? From what exactly? From the girl I love?” “Or protect your career? You worked so hard and they didn’t want it to be in vain?” “But that doesn’t justify their actions, they could’ve seriously hurt her.” Yoongi murmured while nibbling on his thumb. “They covered their faces like cowards.” Jungkook’s brows furrowed as Taehyung’s voice came from the bathroom. “We have to tell someone who can do something.” 

“Already sent the link to the managers.” Namjoon reassured the youngest members. “And I texted her, she says she’s okay and at home and doesn’t want you to worry, Kook.” Ha-na tried to cheer him up with a weak smile but he didn’t reciprocate it, he just gently pressed the white gold bangle to his lips. “She’s lying so I don’t worry about her…” With a drawn-out sigh, he let his head fall back; the pressure in his chest was almost too much for him to bear. He wanted to do something, he wanted all of this to stop so they could go back to being together. There had to be a way and he was determined to find it. * “I’m very sorry, I won’t disappoint you again.” Jungkook finished, looking up at Jimin in the mirror. “How was that?” “It was good. You’ll do just fine.” A forced smile spread on his face, trying to encourage the youngest while he was practicing his apology that was scheduled for this afternoon. “You think? I mean, management approved it but does it sound… sincere? I don’t want to sound like I rehearsed it.” The older boy nodded. “Jungkookie, don’t worry so much! It will be okay.” “Okay, I trust you. You’re right! I can do this.” He looked down on his script. Jimin carefully eyed him, he still looked miserable but maybe this would encourage people to finally back off and drop the story. Taking a deep breath, he plugged the power cord into the wall socket next to the table. “Are you sure, you still want me to do this? You know, you really don’t have to!” “Yes, just do it. Get it over with.”

With shaking hands Jimin picked up the small black machine, turning it on with his thumb. “Where do you want me to start? On the side, so you can hide it in case you change your mind?” “Do whatever you want, I’m not going to look until you’re done.” Jungkook closed his eyes, silently mouthing the words of the script that was resting on his knees. The buzzing noise seemed to amplify in Jimin’s ears; he had promised to support Jungkook and to help him but now that he was actually going through with it, his mind fogged up with doubts. This was a stupid idea, nobody had asked for this gesture from him but he wanted to do it anyway - he wanted the fans to know that he was sorry for his actions. So now they were hiding in the youngest bedroom, just two hours before he was supposed to stand outside the company building and deliver a heartfelt apology to the public. An apology that Jimin thought was uncalled for; neither Jungkook nor y/n had leaked those videos on purpose, they weren’t to blame but the public’s opinion was different - they demanded a statement, an apology for causing such an uproar and breaking people’s trust. But as much as he hated how everything went down, Jimin still wanted his baby brother to be happy; he deserved to be happy and perhaps this was this only way of getting a tiny piece of happiness back. His eyes looked so - lifeless, that he almost couldn’t bear to see Jungkook like this any longer. His eyes scanned the blades moving at a rapid pace when he slowly raised his arm and held it to Jungkook’s hairline. “Are you still sure you want me to do this?” He asked again, making sure Jungkook really wanted this. “Hyung, yes!” He said firmly, as Jimin carefully cut off the first lock of raven hair, watching as it fell to the floor, followed by many more. It pained him to cut Jungkook’s hair short, only a few millimeters of it still covering his scalp. “I’m all done.” He announced, turning off the razor and putting it back down. “You can look now.” Nervously, he watched Jungkook’s eyes flutter open, fixating on his reflection in the mirror. His expression was blank as he ran his hand through what was left of his hair. Jimin wasn’t sure but he could’ve sworn for a millisecond he saw tears glistening in his eyes. “It’s not too bad, right?” “Yeah, it really brings out your eyes and it will grow back in no time, you’ll see.” He patted Jungkook’s shoulders, letting his fingers dig into his shirt for a brief moment. “And there’s always wigs or hats if you hate it later.” The younger boy chuckled. “I should get cleaned up.” “I’ll help you pick out an outfit if you want.” Jimin offered as Jungkook headed for the bathroom. “Thank you.” Jimin sat on the edge of the bed, letting his eyes wander around the room - not much had changed, apart from the box by the closet door that had y/n’s things in them that Jungkook couldn’t get rid off; a few clothes, a bottle of perfume and a few letters tied together with a ribbon.  Only now he had noticed that over the past months, he had not really been in here spending time with his little brother like they used to, playing video games or watching movies on his projector but knowing what had happened in here - it left a feeling of uncertainty floating in his stomach. Of course, he knew now that Jungkook had been hiding y/n in here a lot, trying to keep the secret well hidden from the other members. But Jimin couldn’t help but think that he had started to slip through their fingers a long time ago. Back in the day, they would’ve known immediately if something was wrong but ever since Jungkook had gotten older, he had developed a tendency to lock himself in his room whenever he could and if there was no schedule then he wouldn’t leave it for days. Jimin made a pact with himself - when all of this was over, he was going to make sure Jungkook was okay, that he would force him to come out of his room and go outside with him; it just didn’t feel right to leave him be, he needed to know that they all still wanted to spend time with him and that they would always be by his side, no matter what. * Jungkook was nervously hopping from one foot to the other as he was standing behind a screen waiting his turn while someone from the PR team was outside the company building, dealing with the press. He was used to all the flashing lights of the cameras and microphones being shoved in his face but this felt different - he was alone, his brothers weren’t by his side for moral support. His fingers wrapped around the bangle in the pocket of his blazer; for some reason, it comforted him. Although she had given it back to him, it was the only thing that kept the tiny spark of hope ignited in his chest. “We have found out that our artist’s private account was hacked by a third party, we are taking legal action against the hacker who invaded his privacy and we ask you to respect everybody’s privacy regarding the issue.” Jungkook’s ears picked up a few things here and there but his mind was preoccupied with the task at hand as his stomach churned. He wanted to throw up and run away; far, far away from all the people eagerly awaiting his apology but his legs felt like jello. [Jimin - 1:42pm] You’ll be okay! Just take deep breaths, it will be over before you know it! A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he read his brother’s message. Sometimes he really needed the encouragement from them; without them, he was lost. Sejin stuffed his own phone back into his pocket and nodded his head. “Are you ready?” “As ready as I’ll ever be…” He mumbled, as two of the other managers and a few security guards surrounded him. “Just stick to the script and you’ll do just fine. You don’t have to answer any questions. Just apologize and we’ll head back home right after.” Sejin gently rested his hand on Jungkook’s back. “I’ll be by your side the whole time.” Jungkook sunk his teeth into his lip balm coated bottom lip, as his legs involuntarily started moving with people around him. The glass door opened and the sea of flashes drowned out the sheer amount of people in the street. His heart was pounding against his ribs, as he walked up to the microphone stand. As the whispers died down, he could feel his throat closing up and his mouth felt as dry as the Sahara Desert. Eyes wandering over the blurry faces, his breathing became labored. He couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t get a word out. Maybe he should have had a sip of alcohol to calm his nerves but it was too late. In a knee-jerk reaction to buy more time, he pulled his cap off, revealing his buzzed off hair and bowing down as deep as he could as gasps echoed in his ears, mixed with girls calling his name. “Jungkook..” His manager’s voice was very close to him. “Say something…” In slow-motion he lifted his upper body, carefully scanning the crowd when his eyes found her face - he knew she wasn’t there and that his mind was playing tricks on him but it was the small push he needed to find his voice. He was doing this for her, he wanted people to just leave her alone. She didn’t deserve any of this, she didn’t deserve to be attacked online and especially not getting beat up by fans in an alley at night. The stinging pain in his chest subsided when he finally cleared his throat and found his voice again. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to be here.” He paused, bowing his head again, trying to remember his lines but the memory of them got blurry, they were escaping him too quickly as he tried to hold onto them. “I-I just want to say, I’m very sorry for my actions. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I let down so many people with my reckless and shameful behavior.” His shaking fingers gripped on to the wooden stand of the mic for some support; Sejin’s hand calmly rested on his shoulder while the pressure it was executing felt like a ton of bricks was coming down on him as if Jungkook was about to run away and needed a reminder to stay still. “I’m so sorry to everyone and especially the fans who had to see me like this. I know, I broke your trust and disappointed all of you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me in the future and I promise to never let you down again. Army, you’re always on my mind and it really hurts me to have hurt so many of you with what I have done. Please forgive me.” After delivering his lines, he exhaled shakily; his face felt like it was on fire. “I won’t disappoint you again, I’m sorry.” The crowd was silently watching him, eagerly waiting for him to say something else as his mouth opened and closed without making a sound. “Let’s go, PR will do the rest.” His manager muttered, his hand scooting to Jungkook’s elbow to get him to turn around and go back inside. “One more thing…” Jungkook took a step forward again. “Please, leave her alone. We’re not seeing each other anymore. I-I… all I ask of you is to just leave her alone, please. She’s not in my life anymore…” He trailed off, his lips felt tense as he tried to hold it together. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled more to himself, slowly sinking to his knees on the pavement to bow one last time. The clicking of the cameras was overwhelming his senses, it almost felt like he wasn’t really inside his body anymore when he felt hands holding onto his arms and pulling him to his feet. Not needing much force, he wrenched his right arm free, hiding his tear-stained face in the crook of his elbow. “Come on…” Sejin’s voice was close to his ear as he let him guide him back inside, unsure of whether he did good or not but as soon as doors closed, the babel of alarmed voiced told him that he had gone too far. “What were you thinking going off script? Do you know how bad this could’ve been! We told you to stick to the script. Oh god…” The head of the PR team gestured wildly in front of his face. “I don’t know if we can fix this…Jungkook why do you always have to cause so much trouble?” She puffed up her cheeks before letting out a disappointed grunt. “I’m sorry.” He fixated his eyes on the ground. “It’s just…some fans attacked y/n and I-I just wanted to protect her. I wanted the fans to leave her alone. They should take their anger out on me and not on her.” He felt the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes again, immediately trying to dry them with a tissue. “He didn’t say anything bad. He just asked them to leave her alone, it’s not a big deal.” Sejin interrupted before Hyejin could scold him some more. “I’ll take him home now.” Gently he nudged the raven-haired boy towards the elevator that would take them to the car. “Do you think I did the wrong thing?” Jungkook mumbled as he sunk deeper into the passenger seat, avoiding his manager’s gaze at all costs. “I mean it’s not ideal but it’s okay. I understand why you did it…” He trailed off, averting his attention to the road until they stopped at a red light. “I saw what they did to her, so I understand that you want to do something to protect her. If you want, I’ll request security for her until it all blows over.” Jungkook shook his head, still not used to not feeling his bangs brush against his forehead whenever he moved or touched his head. “I don’t think she would like that but I’ll have Ha-na ask her.” * Jungkook was sitting cross-legged on his bed, his back resting against the headboard, emptily staring at his laptop where he had put on a let’s play to keep his brain and body from going stir-crazy. “Jungkookie?” Hoseok opened the door, sticking his head inside his room. “I thought, maybe you wanted something to eat? You haven’t had anything all day.” The older one came in, closing the door behind him before proceeding to sit on the foot of the bed. Carefully he placed the plate on the mattress between them, pulling a can of coke from the pocket of his hoodie. “Did you make that?” Jungkook eyed the sandwich from all angles, lifting the plate up to eye level. “Jin hyung helped me, he said I was stacking the ingredients in the wrong order.” The older one rolled his eyes before a smile spread on his face. “But I think there’s no wrong order, it’ll taste the same no matter what.” He winked, opening the can, and placing it on the nightstand. Jungkook chuckled. “You’re right.” He wasn’t particularly hungry but since his brother had been so kind as to make him something to eat, he eagerly took a bite. “Delicious.” He pressed out while chewing the bread. “Good, I’m glad you like it.” Hoseok reached out to pat his head but Jungkook pulled away immediately - he felt self-conscious, even more so after getting scolded by his hyungs for cutting his hair short. Not wanting to admit that he had lost some of his confidence with each strand that had been cut off - but maybe that was what he deserved, after putting everyone around him through so much. For a while they just sat on his bed, Hoseok watching him devour the food and sipping on the sugary beverage - neither of them saying a word but the silence didn’t feel as uncomfortable as it did just days ago, at least to the older one it didn’t. “Jungkookie, listen…” With wide eyes, he stared at Hobi when he finally spoke. “I didn’t just come here to bring you food, I actually wanted to say something.” “Okay?” Anxiety was making his chest feel tight; instantly regretting eating the sandwich as he was about to throw it back up. He didn’t need to get scolded again, he didn’t want to hear yet again what a terrible person he was and that he couldn’t do anything right these days. “I just wanted to, you know, tell you that we’re okay.” Almost choking on his own saliva, Jungkook cleared his throat. “We’re okay?” He repeated dumbfounded. “Yes, we are. I know, I wasn’t really supportive and judgmental at first but I just didn’t know what to think or how to handle the situation. I hope you understand where I’m coming from… I had to sort through my thoughts and came to the conclusion that I was just worried about you and our career. You are like family to me, JK; I want what’s best for you and I know, you’re probably mad at me too but I’m here for you now.”  “I was never mad at you.” He mumbled, averting his gaze to white bedding between them. “I know I disappointed all of you. I never wanted you to find out what I did, especially not like this.” “I know that but let’s just put in the past, okay?” Hoseok carefully placed his hand on Jungkook’s knee. “You’re going through so much right now and I just want to be here for you and help you. It really hurts to see you so sad all the time.” A weak smile tugged at his lips. “I’m going to be okay, you don’t have to worry.” “I worry about you all the time, we all do. So please, Jungkookie, if you need to talk to someone, we’re all here for you, you know that right?” “Hyung, I know that.” 

* Jimin knocked on the door, a short knock followed by two quick ones - their not so secret sign that it was either one of them before he entered the youngest room, who was busy pulling out clothes from his closet and throwing them on the floor. 

“Is that what you wanted help with? Sorting out your clothes?” Jimin mused, trying to find a free piece of flooring for him to step closer to Jungkook. “Hyung, no…I-” He gasped, practically ripping a hoodie from a hanger. “I have a plan, and I need your help.” “A plan? A plan that involves donating clothes to charity?” “No…” Jungkook held two identical-looking black hoodies up. “I’m going to see y/n.” “WHAT?” Jimin’s eyes grew wide, the sheer panic was straining his voice. “You’re not allowed to do that, you will get into trouble.” “I know but I don’t care. I just want to see her and I’m not going to wait any longer.” “And how do you plan on doing that, huh? We still have security around and last time I checked, the press is still waiting outside.” “That’s where you’ll come in…” There was a dangerous twinkle in Jungkook’s eyes that could only mean trouble but Jimin was more than intrigued and willing to help. “Do you want me to call you a taxi? Because I have my phone right here.” “No, you’ll help me sneak past security and the press, I’ll take care of the rest.” “I will need more details…” “Go get your black sweat pants and Vans, I’ll explain it to you when you get back here.” Jimin was confused, but he blindly followed the instructions as he quickly walked back to his room. For once happy that Hoseok was so adamant about his skincare routine that he had the room to himself for a bit. “What are you doing? I saw you sneaking into Jk’s room.” A deep voice made him spin around on his heels. Taehyung was walking towards him, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I’m just helping him with something.” “With what?” “I can’t tell you.” Immediately he regretted saying those words to his best friend, who looked so hurt that his lips pursed trying to hide his dismay. “Okay, fine, I’ll tell you but you have to promise me that you won’t tell a soul what we’re doing.” “Promise.” He held up his pinky, so Jimin could wrap his own around it. “Stamp it.” They said in unison when they twisted their hands so the pads of their thumbs could meet. “We’re trying to sneak Jk out of here so he can go check on y/n.” “What?” Taehyung whisper yelled.  “Yeah, please don’t tell anyone.” “I won’t.” Taehyung locked eyes with him. “I will help you.” “What?” Jimin was confused, Taehyung was still mad at them, why was he now offering to help Jungkook? “Yes, I want to know if she’s okay too…” He muttered, his cheeks turning pink. “Ever since I saw what happened to her, I’ve been worried sick. I know she loves Jungkook and she probably wants to see him too…so I’m going to help him.” An overwhelming feeling spread in Jimin’s chest, although Taehyung was so deeply hurt by what they had done, he still loved them; putting aside his own hurt to help his friends. Jimin felt his eyes tearing up, quickly wiping them with his sleeve. “I’m sure, Jungkookie will appreciate your help, Taetae.” He ruffled the younger one's hair. “You’ll need black sweats and a matching hoodie, so go grab them.” Tae nodded, hurrying back to his room to grab his clothes. A small part of Jimin was unsure whether Jungkook would approve of this but for the time being, he was just glad that Taehyung was coming around; it was the first step to mending the broken friendships. They stood in front of the mirror, the three of them wearing matching black outfits, a black mask to cover half their faces and the hoods pulled deep down their foreheads. “I think this will work, it’s dark outside if we move fast, they won’t notice a difference.” Taehyung muttered, adjusting his mask once again. “Jungkook-ah, don’t do anything stupid. If it’s too risky, we will find another way, okay?” “Sure, yeah.” He lied, not an ounce of his body was going to give up on seeing her tonight. Every nerve inside of him was missing her, he couldn’t wait - each minute that passed felt like torture. He was losing her, she was getting further and further away from him and there was nothing he could do - it was like he was trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. “Then let’s go.” Jimin clapped his hands together and they quietly walked out into the hallway, trying not to make a sound. Jimin knew that this idea was stupid beyond belief and he didn’t quite understand why he was participating in it but helping Jungkook was more important, they could deal with the repercussions later, together.  “Where do you think you’re going?” Jin’s voice made the three boys flinch when he turned on the light. “Why are you dressed like that?” “We…uhm…” Jimin tried to come up with a white lie but his brain was slowing down.  “I’m going to see y/n!” Jungkook said bluntly. “And they’re helping me.” 

Jimin quickly rammed his elbow into the youngest ribs to shut him up but it was too late. They would now have to go back to their rooms without even the slightest chance of leaving the building. “I’m appalled.” The eldest clicked his tongue. “There’s no way for you to get past security, especially for you Jungkook.” “We’ll find a way. We have to.” He stuttered, not having an idea of how to even leave the apartment without having to face the guard outside. “You should’ve just come to me earlier.” “What?” “I’ll help you. Wait by the door, you’ll know when the time is right.” Jin winked at them, before grabbing his car keys from the sideboard and leaving the apartment. Taehyung quickly grabbed the door-handle, making sure it didn’t close and they could listen to what was going on. “I just need to grab something from my car, I’ll be right back.” “Alright, sir.” The stern security guard said, not moving an inch from his chair. “How is that supposed to help us get out?” Jungkook rolled his eyes, he was getting antsy waiting for something to happen. The others shrugged, pressing their ears to the door, focusing on any sign from the oldest member. Only a few minutes later, Jin’s panicked voice suddenly echoed through the hallway. “You need to go down to the parking garage. I saw some people down there sneaking around.” “What?” “Yes, I think they’re trying to get access to the building.” A lot of rustling was making it difficult for them to understand what was going on but soon Jin pulled the door open. “Go.” He whispered. “They should be distracted for a while.” “Thank you.” Jungkook mouthed, as he hurried towards the stairs, following the older boys as they sprinted down to the exit. For once, luck was on their side and they soon stood underneath the trees, hiding in complete darkness. “How are we going to do this now?” Taehyung was trying to catch his breath, his hand pressing into his side where he felt a sting. His heart was racing and his breathing was labored, the adrenaline rush was making him feel lightheaded. Jungkook exhaled. “You go out first, make sure they see you. You’ll have to move quickly and then Jimin will do the same and if the timing’s right, I’ll go.” “Do you think that will work?” Jimin questioned, still not convinced that the plan was well thought out. “I don’t know, we will see, I guess.” They quickly moved to the exit, where the press was still gathered at this hour. Quietly they hid behind a wall, giving them the perfect view of their playing field. Jungkook watched how Taehyung pulled the hood deep down his face, speed walking on the right side to sneak away behind the spectators but they easily spotted him, almost attacking him with microphones and cameras. “Jimin-ah, go.” He nodded, making sure the mask was covering his mouth before he ran out on the left side, making the paparazzi almost break their necks. “That’s him! That’s him!” A woman screeched and they collectively hurried after Jimin, who was running like the devil himself was chasing him down the street. Taehyung was leaning against the wall, waving his hand by his side of his body and that was all Jungkook needed to sprint past him as fast as he could. There was no time to thank his brothers, he would do that later, now he had to focus on running and getting enough distance between him and all those people. He didn’t care that the cold air was making his eyes water, he didn’t care that his legs were starting to feel weak; he had to keep going; repeating her name over and over in his head. A loud banging on the door made her sit up straight in her bed, her body involuntarily started shaking right away. Did they find out where she lived? Did they follow her home? She wasn’t quite sure if she really heard someone calling her name, or if she was imagining it as she slowly got up and quietly walked towards the door. “Y/n open the door, please.” She recognized his voice instantly, her fingers wrapping tightly around the handle before pressing it down; she had no strength left in her to fight the need to see his face. “Kookie, what are you���” Without a word, he stepped inside closing the door with his foot before wrapping his arms around her to hide his face in the crook of her neck. Hesitantly her nails dug into his hoodie, bunching up the fabric in her fists. He didn’t say anything, she just felt his tears on her skin burning like acid rain. When her grip loosened, he pulled away from her but keeping his gaze low. “We should go to my room.” “Okay.” He followed her with his heart hammering in his chest; he had noticed her hesitation and it made it harder for him to breathe. What if coming here was not a good idea?  Reluctantly they stood facing each other but her brows furrowed and her hand went up to his head, pulling the hood down - eyes widening when she saw it. Jungkook felt queasy, he didn’t want her to see his hair this short. “I-I…noona…” “I like it, you look manlier.” Biting down on her bottom lip, she forced her lips into a smile to suppress the tears that were about to spill from her eyes. Gently, she ran her hand over his head, making him lean into her touch. “I really do like it, you look handsome.” Jungkook let out a staggered breath; what she thought mattered most to him and if she liked it then he would be able to like it too, eventually, maybe. Only now he noticed the bruises on her cheeks, the little cuts on her forehead. “I’m sorry they did that to you.” He swallowed an invisible lump, his fingers gently reaching out to touch her cheek but she moved her head away from him. “It’s okay, I’m fine.” “Are you really?” She nodded but it wasn’t convincing enough, he pulled her in close, ever so lightly he cupped her face to press the lightest of kisses to her cheeks and forehead. Eyes swimming in tears, she looked up at him. “You still love me…?” Jungkook felt tears running down his cheeks. “Yes, I still love you.” He didn’t know why but he leaned in for a kiss - he just wanted to be with her and not think of anything that happened over the past couple of days. The moment their lips touched he felt a hiccup in his heartbeat like when he missed a step. Everything just felt for so right again like they belonged together and he was sure she must have been sensing it too. Deepening the kiss, his tongue was practically begging for access when out of the blue she pushed him away. “What’s wrong?” He asked, not able to wrap his head around what just happened. “Go! You need to leave. This isn’t good, okay?” “Wait! Why? I don’t want to leave, I want to be with you!” “Jungkook you have to go!” He didn’t understand; mere seconds ago she was kissing him back and now she was telling him to leave, but he didn’t want to, not yet at least. His eyes were focusing in on the bracelet that she was still wearing, and so did he. She never took it off, not even after she broke up with him, just like he promised her on that day at the beach… To Jungkook’s own surprise, lies were rolling off his tongue so easily these days - without batting an eye, he had told his hyungs that he was taking Yina out for the day. When in reality, it was y/n’s day off and he wanted to spend it with her, far away from people they knew to lower the risk of getting caught. In the early hours of the morning, he had picked her up to take her to Naksan beach which was four hours away from Seoul, on the opposite coastline. Contrary to road trips with Yina, who enjoyed just watching the scenery, the drive with y/n was different - they would sing together, she’d feed him snacks she packed and when they got quiet, she played with his hair while watching the sunrise. In Jungkook’s opinion, the drive itself was perfect - even if they would never arrive at their destination, he was truly happy that day. After exploring Yangyang and eating a ridiculously big lunch, they finally went to the beach, walking along the pier to the little red lighthouse to take some pictures. He recalled being here for a photo shoot not too long ago but back then they didn’t have time to wander around and enjoy the beautiful view of the ocean. The weather was dreary, clouds in all shades of gray forming a big cluster on the sky, making them the only two people who dared to visit the beach that day. “Can you put him in your pocket?” She held out the little plush bunny in swimming shorts that he had bought for her at a small souvenir shop in town. “I don’t want to get him wet.” “Of course.” He neatly tucked the bunny in the pocket of his jacket, making sure the button was secured, not wanting to risk losing it. She smiled up at him while rolling up her jeans and stuffing her socks into her sneakers before she ran towards the shoreline to dip her feet into crystal clear water. “It’s so cold.” She squealed, jumping from one foot to the other. “Come on, hurry up!” “I’m coming.” He called, slowly slipping off his own shoes but watching her run away from the waves that crashed on the sand was a lot more fun than doing it himself. The sand felt soft underneath his feet when he made his way over, making sure his eyes never left her. It dawned on him that he had never noticed, until now, how cute she actually was. Of course, he knew how beautiful she was but her little squeals whenever a wave caught up to her made his heart melt - he really was the luckiest guy on earth to have found his soulmate without even having to look for her. It was almost like he had never properly understood what real love felt like until he looked in her eyes; the thought often crossed his mind but a part of him thought it was ridiculous to even think that way. His heart, on the other hand, was sure that she was the girl he’d be spending the rest of his life with. “What are you doing?” Her voice caught him off guard, he hadn’t noticed that he was standing still, just looking at her. “I-I was just thinking…” He trailed off, ears turning a deep shade of pink underneath his cap while she was walking towards him, her hand stretched out for him to hold. “Kookie, don’t think about what happens when we get back to Seoul, please. I want to have a nice day, okay?” He nodded, lacing their fingers together - if only she knew what had been on his mind. She lifted their hands up to press a chaste kiss on the back of his hand before she started running, pulling him along with her. The water was cold but it felt unbelievably good, he couldn’t remember the last time he went to a beach just to have some fun and not for something work-related. For a while, they played catch with the waves and splashed each other with water until he felt exhaustion spreading to his limbs.  He sat down in the sand; just far enough so the water couldn’t reach him. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, letting the fresh salty air fill his lungs and the gusts of wind caressed his skin and at that moment he felt complete, the missing puzzle pieces were all in place like nothing could go wrong. He felt her presence, his eyes fluttering open as she was about to sit down next to him but he quickly pulled her in between his legs so she could lean against his chest. Tightly he wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her head. Neither of them said a word, just watching a few stray clouds letting hints of the hidden blue sky peek through the cracks; the calming sound of the waves crashing on the shore seemed to drown out the whole world around them. Her fingers gently played with his as she shifted a little to rest her head against his shoulder. “I wish every day could be like this.” She mumbled softly, making his heart ache. He wanted to give her everything she wanted, he really did and he would go to the end of the world for her if that meant she was happy. Jungkook leaned down, gingerly pressing his lips on top of her head. “Then I’ll take you to the beach every day and every day can be like this.” And although they both knew that it was just a fantasy and would never be possible, he heard the smile in her voice when she whispered “Okay.” Suddenly she untangled his arms from around her torso and kneeled down in front of him, still between his legs. “I wanted to give you something…” Her hand slid into the pocket of her jacket. “Close your eyes.” He did as he was told, her shaking fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Hold still.” He could hear she was concentrating when something cold touched his skin and he fought the urge to flinch. “Okay, you can open your eyes.” Looking down on his wrist, there was a black leather bracelet with a silver plate. “I- y/n, you didn’t have to..” “Yes I had to, you did all this for today.” She paused, pulling up her sleeve to reveal the same bracelet on her wrist but the delicate metal plate was rose-gold. “Thank you for making our 100th day anniversary so special.” She leaned in, her lips brushing against his and his heart stopped. He didn’t know, he had absolutely no idea it was their anniversary. Maybe because they were keeping their relationship a secret and they never had a real official first date, or maybe it was because she had mentioned that those things didn’t really matter to her anyway that he had paid no attention as to how many days they had been together. He felt like a jerk but he knew that if he told her the truth it would break her heart and that was the last thing he wanted. “I’m never taking it off, thank you.” He pulled her in closer, crashing his lips on hers; hoping that she could feel how much he loved her. “Can you at least look me in the eyes and tell me you want me to leave?” His voice was fragile; he was scared that she would do it and he could already feel the cracks in his heart getting bigger with every breath he took without her giving him an answer. “If you can’t say it when looking at me…” “Then what? You’re not going to leave?” He shook his head, ready to stand his ground; he wasn’t going to leave now, not after what he had been through to get here. “No, I won’t because I don’t really think you want me to…” Throwing her hands up in frustration, she let out a sigh. “What part of us being together is bad, don’t you understand?” “I don’t understand because you and I is the only good thing that has come from all of this.” “But there is no you and me anymore! I ruined everything.” “What do you mean you ruined everything?” “I ruined your friendships, as well as my own and your career. I shouldn’t be around you and that’s why there is no you and me anymore. Got it?” His mouth opened and closed without making a sound; did she really think she was the only one responsible for what happened - that she was the only one hurting all the time? “So can you please just leave?” She mumbled, looking down at her feet but he couldn’t get his own to move. “No, noona... I don’t want you to think that you ruined everything. You didn’t, you made everything better for me.” Carefully he moved in a little bit closer, wanting to wrap his arms around her and just hold her until she understood that he was all in and wouldn’t go anywhere, even if she didn’t want him to stay. She let out a sigh. “You say that now because you don’t want to see that I fucked everything up.” Slowly she sat down on her bed, fiddling with the hem of her pajama top to keep her busy from doing something she’d regret. “You really didn’t, I promise.” Sitting down next to her, he got a good look at the bruises on her legs; he wasn’t the only one who had been through hell and back these past days. He was desperately looking for something he could say - something that would make her change her mind and just take him back. It didn’t matter that to him that he would’ve lied to everyone again, he needed to be with her and if that meant the end of his career then so be it; he was willing to give up his dreams for her but he knew that if he voiced his thoughts, she would never let that happen. After a while, he cleared his throat that was threatening to close up. “So…do you really want me to leave?” His tongue had trouble forming the words; he had imagined that him showing up at her place would go differently. He had been sure that she would’ve been happy to finally see him again but he had never been so wrong in his life. She adjusted her position to face him; Jungkook was preparing himself to go home and hide in bed when her arms wrapped around his neck and her lips hungrily pressed on his. He was in shock; he didn’t see it coming so all he could do for a moment was stare at her face before his eyes fluttered shut and kissed her back. Licking into his mouth, her hands started pulling at his hoodie, wanting to remove the unwanted item of clothing. Firmly his hands wrapped around her wrists as he broke away from her. “Noona, what does this-“ 

Her index finger pressed to his open mouth while she placed soft kisses to his jawline. “Ssshhh just be with me now…” Jungkook nodded, despite being confused. His mind was racing but he still couldn’t bring himself to say no to her, although he had so many questions that were still unanswered. Deliberately she pulled the hoodie over his head before reconnecting their lips in a somewhat innocent kiss. Almost immediately he felt her fumbling with the drawstrings of his sweat pants, rushing to get rid of everything that separated them. “Noona…” He attempted to mumble into the kiss, this time she pulled away. “Kookie, please.” Her whiny voice was the last push he needed to gently push her down into the pillows on the bed. Kissing her again, his trembling fingers started unbuttoning her top; his nerves were getting the upper hand like they did the first time they slept together. Their tongues were shyly playing a game of catch as her nails gently scratched over his bare shoulders; he could still taste the all too familiar traces of her vanilla lip balm, maybe not everything had changed. Blindly his hand cupped her breast, rolling the bud between his index finger and thumb, instantly evoking a soft whimper from her as her hips bucked up, colliding with his.  Leaving a trail of butterfly kisses down her neck to the rosy mounds of flesh, sucking the hardening bud into his mouth. Jungkook groaned when a delicious moan reached his ears, making his member twitch excitedly in its soft fabric prison. Gingerly he let his hand followed the curve of her body when he licked his way back up to her mouth.  “Please touch me…” A whisper that held so much power over him.  Her skin was covered in goosebumps as he reached the waistband of her panties, letting his fingertips slip inside. “You’re so wet already, baby.” Jungkook mumbled against her neck as she held on tightly to his shoulder while his middle finger ventured down her core; gasping when it dipped inside just a bit to gather some of her juices. Lips glued to her neck, he let his fingertips trace her lips, wanting to remember how every inch of her body felt - he needed to engrave it into his memory just in case this was the last time he would get to touch her. “Baby…” She whined when he finally circled in around her clit, avoiding the spot that would soon make her squirm. Peppering soft kisses up to her ear, where he gently nibbled on her lobe. “I missed you so much, you don’t even know…” Jungkook’s voice was low and raspy when he spoke, eliciting a small cry from her when his fingers applied more pressure around the sensitive nub. “I missed kissing you…” Her nails dug deeper into his skin as she tried to keep quiet, only betrayed by her own hips who tried so desperately to get more friction than Jungkook was supplying. He exhaled, stopping the motion of his fingers, nervous anticipation filling the gap between them. “I missed touching you…” Arching her back off the mattress when he finally grazed the spot he’d been avoiding deliberately, her legs squirming against his at the newfound waves of pleasure coming down on her. “Stay still, baby.” He softly chuckled, managing to trap at least one of her legs underneath his right. Fondly he smiled down on her as he watched her blossom under his ministrations, pressing her arm to her mouth to muffle the repeated moans of his name. Until now Jungkook had never realized how amazing it was to watch her fall apart; he did enjoy using his tongue but being able to see how her face flushed and her lashes fluttered from the little circles his fingers were drawing was out of this world - making him fall in love with her all over again. 

“P-please stop.” She tried to wiggle away from him a little; normally he would keep going, knowing that she was getting close but he paused, giving her enough time to slip her hand down his sweats and wrap it around his length. “Noona…ahh.” His voice hitched and his head fell back when she slowly started rubbing her thumb over the tip, coating it with the beads of precum that just kept spilling. Her touch was very light but he was so desperate to feel her that his body reacted erratically, bucking his hips into her hand; never wanting her to stop. Trailing sweet kisses up his neck until she reached his lips, she delicately sucked on his bottom lip, making it throb in her mouth; her hand moving up and down his dick painfully slow, feeling him getting harder by the second. Jungkook whimpered, almost melting in his briefs. He was getting ready to distract himself from his own pleasure by touching her again when she broke the kiss. “Kookie…” There was no moaning, no outcry to get him to touch her and his heart sank for a second, fearing that they had gone too far. “Love me…” She whispered softly, looking up at him, her other hand cupping his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, relishing the warm feeling spreading in his chest before shifting his body weight to his knees, he placed a kiss to her lips, fully prepared to show her how much he loved her. Kneeling down between her legs, he gently lifted them to roll her panties up to discard them on the floor next to the bed, before spreading them again. “I’m so lucky, you’re so handsome.” She smiled lovingly, wanting to reach up to touch his face but he wouldn’t let her, making her pout in return. A little too eagerly, Jungkook pushed down his sweats and briefs - his heart hiccuping in anticipation of being one with her again. Holding and kissing her was amazing but sleeping with her always felt different to him; it was some form of a deeper connection he couldn’t even begin to explain. Lying down on top of her, supporting most of his weight on his arms next to her shoulders, he started peppering small kisses all over her cheeks to her lips, letting his tongue disappear in her mouth to taste her again. Slowly grinding against her core, just to make sure she was still wet enough for him when she whimpered into the kiss; the engorged tip of his member applying enough pressure to her clit to send her flying again.  Shoving his one hand between their bodies to line himself up, before he pushed the tip inside, the feeling of bliss washing over him as he felt the velveteen walls hugging his dick. “Is that okay?” He asked, brushing her hair from her face. “More than okay.” She smiled, puckering up her lips for yet another kiss.  Jungkook was moving slowly, taking his sweet time, enjoying every little noise he was eliciting from her with each stroke. Her nails were digging into his shoulder blades, clinging onto him for dear life, as if it was just a dream and he would disappear the moment she woke up. Their lips were glued together, only ever breaking apart to up their oxygen intake before diving back in for more. He adjusted his position, pushing her legs up to his sides so she could rest her calves on his lower back - his body was ready to chase his down his high but he had to shift his focus on hers first. When he bottomed out after a hard thrust, she pulled away, letting her head fall back. “Oh god, right there.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth; he loved that she always let him know when he was hitting the right spot. “’s that good, baby?” He asked, hips slamming into her much harder than before but she couldn’t answer him, too busy trying to muffle her moans against his skin. He wanted her to let herself fall and just bathe in the waves of pleasure washing over her body but he could tell she was holding back a little. Jungkook sucked on his fingers, letting his hand venture down to the swollen bundle of nerves to rub it again. Gasping for air, she locked eyes with him as she let out whiny moans of his name. “Jungkook-ah…” “It’s okay baby, you can cum. Don’t wait for me.” He encouraged her, sucking a small bruise on the column of her throat. Bottoming out with every thrust, he knew that she needed him to go faster to reach her high. Alternating between little figure-eights and flicking her clit, he knew she would soon reach the point of no return. Her moans were fogging up his brain - each one higher in pitch than the last, making it difficult for him to keep a steady pace. The knot in his stomach that was pulling itself tighter and tighter was about to snap but he had to keep going, they were both so unbelievably close that he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last, her hips now meeting his halfway. “You feel so good.” Jungkook panted, her convulsing walls trying to milk him dry; his scrotum contracting dangerously.  “Baby!” She whined a heads up, her left hand fisting the sheets while the other tightly squeezed his biceps, the stinging feeling of his skin completely subdued by the rush of her high. He was in a daze, watching her come undone, her loud moans ringing in his ears as his member suddenly erupted when he bottomed out, hot white streams of cum painting her walls as white as snow. Letting his body sink onto hers, he buried his face in the crook of her neck as his own orgasm washed over him. “I love you, baby…I love you so much…I love you” He let out a slurry of moans against her sweat glistening skin, thrusting sloppily to get every last drop as deep inside of her as he could, never wanting to come down from this high. Breathing heavily but staying still, he softly pressed little pecks to her shoulder when a sob shook him to his core. He lifted his head up to look at her but hers was turned the other way. “Noona, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” “No, I’m fine…j-just ignore me.” She blubbered, trying to wipe the tears away without him noticing. He pulled out to lie down beside her, wrapping his arms around her trembling body. “Tell me what’s wrong…let me fix it.” He whispered; the dopamine from his orgasm that had rushed through his veins, vanishing instantly. “No, no it’s okay…just give me a minute.” But he couldn’t, the world no longer made sense to him; he just couldn’t come up with a reason why she suddenly broke down in tears after he had just told her how much he loved her when she had wanted him to make love to her. “Noona, it’s not okay. You wouldn’t be crying if it was.” She turned around in his arms, burying her face against his chest, her tears feeling like a thousand needles poking and prodding at his skin. “I-I…” A choked sob riddled her body, his embrace tightening around her. He felt so lost, not knowing what to do or how to comfort her. Was he supposed to just hold her and let her cry? But that was easier said than done when he felt tears pricking at his own eyes. “I love you so much, Kookie and it just sucks that we can’t…be together anymore.” “Yes, we can be together, don’t say that.” Desperation was flaring up in his chest as the tears finally escaped their prison. “No, we can’t and you know it.” The sniffles were muffled against his quickly rising chest. “But why? I’m here now. I will always be here.” “Because I’m holding you back and…” He wanted to go deaf so that he wouldn’t have to hear her say any of that nonsense. “- and I’m just standing in your way and ruining your career and I don’t want that. I want you to be happy even if it’s without me.” “But how am I supposed to be happy without you?” His heart was slowly crumbling to pieces, not able to grasp the concept that he could ever be okay without her in his life.  “I don’t know but eventually you’ll move on with someone else…” Untangling his arms from her, he sat up, forcing her to do the same. She didn’t know one bit, how much he had suffered from being separated from her, his heart felt like it was incomplete, missing its other half.  “I won’t! After everything, we went through…I don’t want anyone else. I want you, don’t you get it?” Averting her eyes to the pillows, she tried to avoid looking at him - tears rapidly flowing down his cheeks. “I want you too but you know, sometimes things just don’t work out, no matter how badly you want them to.” “Bullshit! You just let those stupid comments get to you and now you’re pushing me away because those people made you believe you’re not good for me.” “But they are right…” She weakly protested. “If you truly believed that, you would’ve taken your bracelet off but you’re still wearing it…do not lie to me like that.” He inhaled shakily, feeling like someone was standing on his chest, infringing on his ability to breathe properly. As if she was reminiscing, her fingertips traced the metal plate on the bracelet. “I just want what’s best for you…and it’s not me.” “Y/n, you know that we are meant to be together. You have said it yourself that we are soulmates, how can you even say that we’re not supposed to be together?” “You have to grow up and learn that you can’t always get what you want. This isn’t a candy store…” “Are you even listening to yourself? You’re trying so hard to keep us apart with those stupid reasons…” He got up, pulling his pants up and reaching for his hoodie on the floor. He could tell that she wanted to say something but she kept quiet, fresh tears dripping down her cheeks and onto her bare chest. “I’m not going to give up so easily…you will see that we are meant to be together and I don’t care what anyone says and you shouldn’t either…maybe you can grow up and learn that we are a thing that’s worth fighting for.”  His hand slid into the pocket of his hoodie, holding tightly onto the white gold Love bracelet, before placing it on her nightstand.  “This is yours because I’m yours.” 

*

“Where is he?” Namjoon was pacing up and down the living room, checking his watch for the hundredth time in the past 20 minutes, after they had noticed that Jungkook wasn’t home or nowhere to be found anywhere in the apartment complex, or around on the premisses to clear his head. “I’d like to know that too…” Yoongi was unusually worried, eyeing the other members who were quietly sitting on the sofa, pretending they couldn’t hear a word they were saying. “You guys know something...” Hoseok contemplated, tapping on his chin with his index finger. “I’m sure of it, you all look really suspicious…” “Exactly! Spill it!” Yoongi agreed while Namjoon tried calling the youngest yet again. “What? We don’t know anything.” Jin shrugged his shoulders. “I think, we should just calm down, he’ll be home soon. I’m sure, he just needed to blow off some steam. Did anyone check the gym?” “He’s not picking up.” The leader informed the group when the heavy front door opened and closed and Jungkook dragged his feet into the living room. “Where have you been? We were worried about you!” Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon scolded him in unison. “Out.” He mumbled, his eyes were puffy from crying and he wanted nothing more than to hide in his bedroom and don’t see or talk to anyone. “Out?” Namjoon repeated. “You do know that you are not allowed to go out without supervision? We were worried that something happened to you and all you say is ‘out’?” “But it didn’t. I’m fine, nobody saw me.” “Jungkook-ah…” Jimin said softly, he could tell by the look on his face that something wasn’t right. “What did she say?” “Who?” Hobi interrupted but Jimin indicated with his hand for him to stay quiet. “We’re not getting back together…” “You went to see y/n?” Usually, Namjoon always stayed calm but the tension on his face told everyone that he was getting upset at the youngest for breaking the rules when they all needed to be extra careful. “I’m sorry, Jk.” Jin smiled sadly. “It’s okay…if you don’t mind, I wanna be alone for a bit.” “Sure thing.” Jimin reached out and gave his hand a light squeeze. “If you want some company, we’re here for you, okay?” The youngest nodded and disappeared down the hallway to seek comfort in his bedroom. Namjoon scoffed. “I can’t believe, he actually did that…he’s trying really, really hard to get into trouble these days.” “Lay off him! He’s having a hard time right now!” Jin furrowed his eyebrows, letting out an elongated sigh. “Are you serious? He’s doing one reckless thing after the other.” “Maybe it was bound to happen that he acted out…” Yoongi pondered. “I mean, he always had to behave and stay in line…” “He’s not acting out, he just wanted to see her after what happened to her. It’s normal, he’s in love with her.” Jimin defended Jungkook, who wasn’t present to fight for himself. “We should be supportive now. You guys heard that they’re not getting back together. I think he needs us.” “You’re right…” Namjoon gave in, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “He really does need us right now.”  While the others were discussing how they could cheer their little brother up, Taehyung slipped out into the hallway unnoticed; quietly he walked towards Jungkook’s room. Stopping a few times, wanting to turn around but he couldn’t. A part of him was still hurt, his heart aching every time he thought about either one of them but the anger he felt had subsided slowly, at times he felt an overwhelming amount of disappointment flooding his mind but he kept telling himself that it was natural to feel that way after being lied to by two of your best friends. It struck him as odd to feel pity for Jungkook when he had caused all of this trouble in the first place, but he did - seeing his little brother heartbroken wasn’t something he could ignore and he knew that y/n was feeling the same, the urge to comfort her as well rearing its head in the pit of his stomach. Taehyung inhaled, as if to gather up all the courage he could muster and knocked on the door, faintly he heard the youngest mumble a ‘yes’ and he quickly opened and closed the door behind him. Jungkook was lying on his bed, trying to hide the tissue he had used to soak up the tears under his pillow, while Taehyung sat down next to him. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay..” “Oh yeah, I am…” Jungkook didn’t even have to fake a smile; he was genuinely happy that Tae was finally speaking to him again. “You didn’t have to check on me but thank you, hyung!” “I was worried about you…you said, she doesn’t want to get back together?” He shook his head, his eyes drooping in sadness. “She says, she loves me but we can’t be together.” “And why’s that?” Taehyung tilted his head, confused as to why his best friend didn’t want to be with his little brother anymore. “Stupid reasons like she’s holding me back and ruining my career. I think she let those people get into her head.” Jungkook’s eyes shot up when his older brother chuckled. “What’s so funny?” “Ah, Jungkookie…” Tae patted his head. “I don’t know if you know this yet but y/n can be very, very stubborn. She thinks she’s right about something but eventually, she will realize that she’s wrong and I’m pretty sure she will come around.” “How do you kn-?”  “I’ve known her my whole life, remember? It’s her thing, always been like that.”  Jungkook sighed, his lips jutting out into a pout.  “I wish she would hurry up and realize how wrong she is…”  “Don’t worry, it’ll happen sooner than you think.” They fell silent for a moment; it wasn’t uncomfortable this time around. It was like a weight was lifted off their shoulders and they both knew, that they would be able to overcome this hurdle in their friendship. 

“Hyung…” The younger one muttered, piddling at his comforter. “I’m sorry, I lied to you. I should’ve been honest with you from the start. I really hope, you can fully forgive me one day.” “I’m not saying it doesn’t still hurt but I’m not mad anymore…and I’d like that.” Tae smiled shyly when Jimin barged into the room without knocking, stopping in his tracks when his eyes fell on both boys sitting across from each other on the bed. “What is going on?” “We were just talking.” Taehyung assured him. “What’s up?” As soon as he asked, the other members squeezed through the door, piling up in the small space between the door and the bed. “It’s only 10pm, let’s go out to eat and maybe karaoke after!” All the members were nodding enthusiastically behind Jimin. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Jungkook questioned, not wanting to get into any more trouble. “Yes, we talked to the managers and they said it’s okay if it’s just us. They’re sending a car, so go get dressed.” Jungkook couldn’t help but smile, welcoming the distraction with open arms. “Jungkookie you think of a restaurant where you want to go.” Jin called as he was walking away to his room to get dressed as well. It was almost like nothing ever happened between them, they were cooped up in a small private room at Jungkook’s favorite restaurant, eating and drinking while talking about anything that popped into their heads. Jungkook hated to admit it but he had missed his brothers very much; all the sneaking around and hiding away from them, had involuntarily built a barrier between them and with each laughter that filled the room, he could feel it breaking down. After Jimin had recovered from sliding off his chair from laughing so hard after Hoseok had spilled beer all over Yoongi’s new phone, Jungkook cleared his throat. “So…you’re all not mad at me anymore, right?” Carefully he looked at his older brothers, eyes swimming in tears as he waited for their reply. He knew, he was ruining the mood but the question was eating him up inside - he would’ve hated to find out later that they were all just pretending to make him feel alright for a couple of hours. To his surprise, Namjoon wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “We were never mad at you, just a little disappointed. You’re still a part of us, Jungkook.” Hiding his face in his hands, he let the tears fall freely but he didn’t want his hyungs to see how relieved he was that they still loved and cared about him. “Is he crying?” Jin asked astounded, looking at the others. “I think so…” Yoongi couldn’t tell until Jungkook let out a quiet sob. “Oh Jungkookie, don’t cry!” Hoseok got to his feet, hurrying around the table to give him a hug.  “When you cry, we all cry. Don’t do that!” He softly chuckled, letting his brothers hug him and wipe his tears away, thinking that maybe one day he would be okay as long as they were by his side.

                                          *~~EPILOGUE ~~*

It was a cloudy day, the sun was hiding behind a thick blanket of clouds while she was confined to the car, staring at a row of buildings that all looked the same to her. Deliberately she was pulling at her sweater to make it wider and comfier. “Not long, five more minutes or so.” She nodded, fiddling with the strap of her purse - her nerves getting the better of her. “Aren’t you excited?” “I am…” She replied, trailing off; unsure whether she was actually excited or scared. They had never talked about it, really but she was hoping it would all turn out just fine. Nervously she stepped out of the car, leaning against it to keep a close eye on the door, wishing she would have brought Taehyung or Ha-na for moral support but they were busy visiting locations for the party after the wedding reception. The unusual loud beep of her phone made her flinch when it snapped her out of her thoughts. [Jimin - 2:28pm] Don’t tell Jungkookie about his surprise party later! 🤫 And don’t worry y/n, I know he will be very excited when you tell him 😍 She let out a sigh, it was easier said than done - she had been on edge since last night, only tossing and turning all night. What if he wasn’t happy about it? The others had reassured her a million times by now that it was all going to be fine but now she was contemplating waiting a little longer, maybe even a few months, as ridiculous as it sounded in her head. She was checking her watch yet again, thinking that a minute could easily feel like hours when suddenly a door opened and a few people left the most official-looking building of them all. Her eyes found him, surrounded by the guys in his unit as they were walking towards their families after the ceremony, which she hadn’t been allowed to attend for privacy reasons, but that didn’t matter now. The tingling feeling in her legs, made her impatient and she just couldn’t stand still and wait for him to get to her, so she started running towards him. The moment he spotted her, Jungkook’s face lit up, his stomach was swarming with butterflies as he dropped his bag on the ground, ready to catch her in his arms. “Jungkook-ah, is that your girlfriend?” Minhyuk laughed next to him, nudging him with his elbow, watching as she came running, her skirt blowing in the wind. “Yes.” He said proudly, getting ready to wrap his arms around her for the first time in almost three months. “Looks like she’s really excited to see you, you really should’ve taken a shower this morning.” Junyoung teased him, making the other guys chuckle as they all seemingly waited to watch the reunion. “I saw Jungkookie using perfume before the ceremony, he’ll be fine.” Hyunwoo added, patting his shoulder. “Your teasing is definitely something I won’t miss.” Jungkook winked at them before shifting his focus back to her. He had become good friends with some of the guys in his unit after spending day and night with them - maybe it reminded him of the old days with the other members but it comforted him and made his military service not as bad as he had imagined it before enlisting. His heart was hammering against his ribcage when he picked her up right before she could crash into his chest. His arms securely wrapped around her thighs, he slowly spun around in circles with her. She gently cupped his face, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips, only deepening it for a few seconds. Carefully he set her down, her fingers digging into the rough material of his uniform jacket. “Hey.” She smiled shyly, looking up at him. “Hey.” Jungkook gently brushed his fingertips over her cheek, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “I missed you.” “We missed you too…” “We?” He asked; confusion painted all over his face. He had been told that his members would stay at home and they wouldn’t get together until after his little meeting with the press and fans outside the company building. “Yes, we…”  Taking his hand, he could feel hers shaking when she placed it on her stomach. “We missed you a lot.” Jungkook froze; unsure of whether his ears were playing tricks on him or not. His heart was racing again, but this time it was different - a fuzzy feeling rushed through his body as he slowly started to move his hand over her stomach, feeling the small bump that was well hidden underneath the oversized sweater. “Are you serious?” He swallowed hard, trying to stop his eyes from watering. “I am, I went to the doctor a few weeks ago…” She trailed off, suddenly feeling guilty for not having told him sooner. “I’m sorry, I should’ve… I wanted to tell you in person.” “No, no..it’s okay!” He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he was going to be a father just yet. “I-I’m happy you told me like this, it was perfect.” He smiled, cupping her face to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Noona, I love you.” Ever so delicately he kissed her before he sunk to his knees to press his lips to her stomach, an overwhelming feeling of happiness spreading in his chest.

* “Kookie, she woke up again.” Y/n sighed, hearing the faint little cries coming from their bedroom as she put away the last few dishes. “I’ll go check on her.” He put his laptop down on the couch to get up. “No, it’s okay. You’ve had a long day, I’ll do it.” Quickly he crossed the room to stand in front of her. “No, you go sit down and rest. Dasom was asleep when I got home, so this is my chance to spend some time with her.” “Okay fine, but don’t start playing with her again or she will be up for hours.” “I won’t, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek and quietly made his way to their bedroom, only turning on the small light on the bedside table. “Hey, little one.” Gently he picked her up, sitting down with her on y/n’s side of the bed, drying her cheeks with his sleeve. “What’s wrong?” He could tell from the way she was crying that she wasn’t hungry, y/n had fed her before putting her down and it was too early for her dream feed. “You don’t need to be changed either.” He concluded after checking her diaper. “Wanna tell appa what’s bothering you?” Dasom made a few unidentifiable noises in between yawns, looking at her father with those big brown doe eyes that she could’ve only gotten from him. “Hmm….yeah…” Jungkook nodded his head. “I understand, I missed you too while I was at work…” He trailed off, reminding himself what he had promised y/n but he was so tempted to tickle her, simply to hear her laugh - he really needed to hear it sometimes, especially after a long tiring day of filming. “I promised mommy I wouldn’t keep you up so, how about I tell you a bedtime story instead?” He cradled her in his arm, making sure she was comfortable. “Where did we leave off last night before you fell asleep? Right, you know there was a time when the princess really didn’t want to be with the prince because of what the people in the town were saying; they were really mean to both of them and the princess wanted to protect the prince so she left him heartbroken and to fend for himself. But the prince loved the princess so much that he did everything in his power to show her his love - it took him months of slaying dragons and all the monsters in the far-away land but eventually, she realized that the universe had always wanted them to be together, they weren’t doomed to be star-crossed lovers…” Dasom’s little snores interrupted his recollection of his relationship with her mother, lovingly his index finger followed the perfect slope of her little nose. Without waking her, he put her back in her crib, making sure she was surrounded by all her favorite plushies, all gifts from her uncles; before he gently kissing her forehead. “I love you and mommy so much, I hope you know that, baby girl.” He whispered, slightly pulling on the string of the little moon above her bed that played the melody of Euphoria. 

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[stufftippywrote]

a pact

Prompt list is here Angst prompt #12: “Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.”

"Yo, Bitty, Jack just gets real bitchy near the end of every preseason." - Ransom

He missed the puck by just that much.

Jack's on the ice with 4 seconds to go in the third. They're down by one, but they're on the power play, and Jack's at point, in a great position to set up Bergey for the one-timer. The puck shuffles back to him, a timing play that should leave the goal wide open for Bergey. Jack extends his stick for the puck--

--and misses. It goes rocketing down the ice where Johnson has to play it behind the net, and at once four seconds are gone and the game is over.

It was the simplest play. It's a play Jack's made over and over in the Q. And the puck just slid right by his stick.

The coach's words ring hollow to his ears. "Of course we wished for a different result, but you played a good team game," whatever. The fact is, Jack lost the game for them, and he gets to go into his first collegiate season with that hanging over his head.

He sits in his stall, head down, trying to calm the incessant voices in his head. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea, they say. Maybe he's made yet another stupid mistake. Maybe he'll continue to fail for four years...

He doesn't notice the locker room emptying out. The next thing he knows is someone patting him on the top of the head and calling his name. "Zimmermann. Yo. Jack."

It's Knight. Shitty, he insists on being called. His whole existence is a puzzle to Jack. He's been around a lot of vulgar guys as part of his junior hockey career, but he's never met anyone quite like Shitty. Certainly, he's never met anyone who'd hang back in the locker room to check on him what he was in "one of his moods," like Ruddy used to say back in the day.

Jack lifts his head. "Sorry," he says, and he's not sure what he's apologizing for.

"What's got you so down?" Shitty asks. "Don't tell me you're back here beating yourself up over one missed pass. It's preseason, brah! It doesn't even count."

Jack is silent. How does this guy know that? And when did this room get so empty? They're the only two left.

Shitty sits himself down in the neighboring stall. "Come on," he urges, "talk to Uncle Shitty."

Jack lifts his head slightly and looks at him. Who the hell is this dude, with the wild hair and the fluffy mustache, to tell him what to do? How can he possibly understand what that one missed pass signifies, how Jack is pinning all his hopes on not making stupid mistakes like that? Why should he talk to anyone, much less anyone who identifies himself as Uncle Shitty? Anger flashes through him, and he glares, hoping his expression says leave me alone.

But Shitty's not that easily fazed. "Whoa, if looks could kill, bud. Put those daggers away before you hurt someone."

Jack lowers his head again. Maybe if he ignores him long enough, Shitty will go away.

"Seriously, buddy," Shitty goes on. "Holding everything in won't help. Look, you're new here, so am I. Why don't we make a pact? As bros. I'll be here for you, and you be there for me. Have each other's backs, you know what I mean?" The words string together at the end. Shitty holds out a hand.

Jack gets up and leaves the room.

The walk back to his dorm is annoying. His silence is punctured by everyone who walks by in conversation. Thank God his mother's connections were enough to get him a single his freshman year. He couldn't deal with an obnoxious roommate right now on top of everything.

He just wants to get back to his room and take a pill and be alone.

No. No more pills. Just his daily medicine. But the craving's there, it always is when he feels like this. God damn it, he thought he was going to stop feeling like this once he got back on the ice...

"Brah."

Shitty's sitting on the fence outside Jack's dorm.

How in the hell...

Shitty hops down from the fence and approaches him. "Look, Jack, I'm not trying to be a stalker, honest to God. But I'm worried about you. You looked like a fucking ghost back there."

Jack looks him over. At last, he gives a little sigh. "Come on up," he says, and lets Shitty follow him into the building.

They're silent on the walk upstairs, but Shitty's presence at his back is like a bur on his clothes. He can't help but be aware of it, and every so often, it itches. He finally lets Shitty into his room and takes a seat on his bed.

He doesn't expect Shitty to plonk right onto the bed next to him. "You need more light in here, brah," he comments. "You should get them to fix that overhead light. I guarantee you'll feel better."

"What do you want?" Jack asks.

"To help," Shitty says. "And maybe to make a friend. If you're cool with it."

"I'm not--" Jack takes a breath. Rational thought is returning, little by little, though tremors of anxiety keep wracking him. "Thanks."

"So what's going on?" Shitty crosses his legs on the bed and faces him. "Why do you look like you're about to pass out?"

Jack lifts a hand to his face. His cheek is cold. "I shouldn't have missed," he says slowly.

Shitty's eyebrows rocket upward. "Really? You're seriously worried about that one pass?"

"It's not just the one pass," Jack admits. "It's ... I can't play like that, I'm better than that. I can't..." Another tremor sends a chill across his skin. "I have to be better."

"Or what?" Shitty says carefully.

Jack can't believe the question. "Or else I'll... I won't be able to..." He plasters his palm against his forehead. "I just have to."

"Okay, so, first thing? You are better," Shitty says. "Dude, you don't think we haven't all been watching you with our goddamn jaws on the floor? You're on a whole different level than the rest of us. You're captain next year and I'd bet my best weed on that, man."

Captain... Jack hasn't even thought about that. He could, hypothetically, be captain. Captain of an NCAA team is a pretty good mark on his resume. If he's good enough, that would be a great position from which to...

"Heyyyy," Shitty drawls. "I swear to Jeebus I just saw you smile, Pissy Jack Zimmermann."

"I--" Jack immediately puts on the most neutral face he can manage. He's ashamed at the seed of hope Shitty's words planted in his heart. What right does he have hope?

Yet hope is what brought him here. Hope and hard work, and he has slain greater dragons than this.

"I don't know how to say it," he says, his voice soft in the too-dim room. His breaths are starting to calm. "It's just... my dad is... I'm trying to..."

"Your dad?" Shitty takes a moment. "Oh, riiight. Sorry, I forgot. Dude, you're not comparing yourself to him, are you? Of course you fucking are, that's Psych 101 material. Well, cut it out."

Jack blinks. Just cut it out? This guy thinks it's that simple?

"Yeah, you heard me," Shitty goes on. "Just cut it out. Yes, I know it's not that simple, but in a way it is, dude. You think your dad never made a mistake? You think he didn't deal with a rolling puck once in a while? Dude, unless he's got twenty Cups in a row, I'm pretty sure he's fucked up a couple times in his life. And don't tell me you've been perfect up till now either." He's got a head of steam going, and he jumps to his feet, starts pacing in front of the bed. "Look, don't fucking tell me it's part of a pattern or it means you're doomed to miss pucks forfuckingever because it's not, and YOU know it's not, and I know you know it, so tell the crappy thoughts to fuck off. Do you want to get high? Might help. I can bring some stuff over from my dorm. Or beer if alcohol's your poison of choice. But for God's sake stop hunching your shoulders like you're the hunchback of Notre fucking Dame."

Jack obediently straightens his shoulders. Is this a lecture? Is he being lectured? But Shitty's right. He's being a little ridiculous. Now that the shakes have stopped and his breathing's even, he needs to snap out of it.  

Shitty watches him warily, and finally sits back down on the bed. "Too much?" he asks, almost tentative.

Jack shakes his head. "Thanks," he tells Shitty. "I guess I got too much in my head."

"Brah." Shitty puts a hand on his shoulder, comforting warmth that grounds Jack. "Don't keep this kind of thing to yourself, okay? That is literally what a team is here for. We got you when you're down." He holds out his other hand. "So. How 'bout that pact? Bros for life."

Jack sighs. "Yeah," he says, and grasps Shitty's hand. "Sounds good."

Shitty yanks hard on Jack's hand, and Jack is pulled into a hug -- the first hug he's had here that didn't follow a goal on the ice. How long since he's been hugged by someone other than his parents? He doesn't remember. It feels nice. It feels like he belongs here. And that's just what he needed to feel right now -- like there's a meaning for him having chosen this path, that it wasn't another huge mistake.

It even almost feels like there's something for him here besides hockey, and that's a revolutionary thought.

Shitty lets him go, and Jack lets out the smile he'd held back. "Bros for life," he echoes.

#shitty and jack #friendship fic #check please #check please fic #omgcp #omgcp fic

[babbling-idiot]

Have power over me

Milton Dammers x reader

Request: non

Warning: NSFW, masturbation and mentions of fem-dom kink and that's it!

(So this idea came to me not long ago and I wanted to try my hand in writing something smutty-ish so that I'll start to become more comfortable writing it, there is no actual smut but the warningskinda give you a hint. Also this is milton, I kinda gave him a different demeanor in this so yeah, enjoy!)

Today milton had been distant and a little off. If that made sense. He had been avoiding you all day, he even went out of his way to go to a different part of the building for hours. It was infuriating. Did you you do something? Was he upset with you? What the hell was the matter? He never once told you and never once talked to you all morning. Which was unusual, you were best friends and this was something you did every morning together. What was the deal?

Even now, he was still ignoring you and was making copies in one of the back rooms all alone, so you took this as an advantage and went to confront him. When you entered he turned and immediately was scrambling to get all his papers. Before he could even get two feet the door was closed and locked. "Alright milton! This little game your playing with me, is not fun! I would like to talk to you and spend time with you when I get break but you are being, and I hate to say this cause I've never once said something like this to you but you are being an asshole! What did I do? Did i upset you, did I do something wrong, if so you need to tell me! I'm not a mind reader mil'!" He says nothing but hangs his head in defeat knowing that he has to tell you, confess the reason for ignoring you. He slowly makes his way over to one of the chairs at the small table in the center of the room. "I....I am so sorry I gave you the idea that I was angry or upset with you. I'm not, I'm not angry just....confused and trying to figure out stuff..." he says quietly like a kid being lectured. You tilt your head in confusion. "I dont understand, your not mad, but your confused? About what? Whatever it is you don't have to keep it to yourself, I'm here for you. Anything, you need to talk or vent im here for you, no matter what." You say sitting next to him "That's the thing y/n, I'm afraid to tell you. You've always been so kind, caring, supportive no matter what and im just afraid after I tell you your going to leave me." He says with teary eyes. You shake your head scooting closer while putting a hand on his shoulder and slightly squeezing it "Milton that's impossible. I'm never gonna leave you, your my friend. Your my best friend and a friend is supposed to be supportive and caring no matter what." He sighs and swallows his breath "Ok, well y/n, I dont know how to say this, but you know how when I was undercover with all this cults?" "Yeah..." you say not knowing where this was going "Well I was this one cults sex slave for a long period of time and they would often use me for there own release. Well when I had finally got taken out, back to the normal world, I would often find myself wanting that. Not the want to go back, but the feeling of someone having power over me. To use me....but dont think I dont want them to love me and care for me. I still want that, I just often tend to have my mind drift to those thoughts." He says avoiding eye contact "So what your saying is that, when you were a sex slave that the thoughts of someone having power, controlling you and using you, make you want that again? Like a regular relationship but your partner to be the one in control, correct?" He nods his head "Ok well milton, tho your reasoning behind your kink, which is what that is, i would say it's normal, but the reasoning is odd but having a kink is nothing to be ashamed of. Alot of people have that same kink. I mean I'm no special gem but I have my own." "Yeah, but there is one problem..." "Oh and what is that?" "I want to share it, with you.." At this you stared at him shocked, no way milton, the one guy you've liked since you came here would want you, in that way. "You want to share your kink with me, like.....I'm sorry I dont know what you mean?" "I want you, I want you to be the one who has power over me. I want to be with you." He says like hes desperate. "Ok but, I want you to know that if you want this, and truly want me there has to be rules. Are you ok with that?" "Yes!" He nods vigorously "Alright, how about after work we can hangout and talk about it, sound good?" You say standing up in front of him, instantly hes looking up at you through lidded eyes, mouth slightly open "Ok..." and so from that moment on, milton was on edge.

He had finally confessed his deepest secret to you and now you were agreeing to his request. Now he waited outside for you. Checking the watch on his wrist more than enough times to count. When you finally exited the building he was by your side, stuck to you like a lost puppy. "Well where would you rather go? My house or yours?" "I-i dont have a house here, I stay at the hotel." "Alright well my house it is then. Also i would've liked a straight answer, but we'll work on that." You say sending him a smirk and continued your path to your vehicle.

Not even a quarter of the way to your house, milton was already moving awkwardly in his seat. He was lifting himself off the seat and moving into what he hoped was a more comfortable spot, but it only added more fuel to the fire burning in his pants. You could see the obvious tent in his pants and the way he was squeezing his legs together. You didnt want to make him uncomfortable, but the way he was moving and the slight sound of whimpers falling from his lips was enough to make your own arousal appear. Slowly you reached your hand over to where he sat, placing it upon his thigh. His breath hitched and his breathing increased. Every now and then you inch your hand closer to where he wanted you most. Making it fairly clear that your intent was to tease him.

When you were almost to your home your hand had already made it to his crotch. Every now and then he would rut up into your hand and you tsk at him and would take your hand away. He whine at this and instantly is back to whimpering "Please! Please y/n, touch me, I need it!" He says through pants. "Now milton, I appreciate that you asked nicely but you'll have to wait till we get home. Can you do that?" You say keeping your eyes trained on the road "I don't know! I'm so hard it hurts!" He says before your hand is back to his pants but this time in them. You unbuckle, and unbutton them, shoving aside his underwear so your hand could wrap around his cock. He indeed was hard, the tip a hot purple and already oozing precum. His breathing became erratic and labored, his face was almost red. You were sure if you kept your hand on him any longer he would cum. He could say it was something he wanted, needed and would beg if he need to to have it. "If you want it so bad milton, then fuck yourself into my hand. I want you to cum all over." You say as he moans out loud, he begins at a decent pace as he ruts himself in and out of your palm. Right when your driveway makes it into your view, that's when you feel him twitch and he starts to cum all over your hand and his shirt. You wipe your hand off on his shirt. You take a second d to look at him, his breathing was semi normal but you could tell he was tired. You smirk as you put the car into park. You turn toward him, taking his jaw in your hand "Do you think for a second that I'm even close to being finished with you? If so, you thought wrongs, now come on!" You say getting out, hes out when you are and is following you in. This should be a night milton will remember for a long time.

(So this is kinda stepping out of my comfort zone to do this, I hope this is good!!🤞🤞 also please do know that this does not mean I will write smut now, I still do it the Headcanon way. I hope you enjoyed! Have a great day and stay safe out in the world!)

[tysonrunningfox]

Two Night Stand AU: Part 7

Ao3

Hiccup (3:52am): Astrid please, I can explain.  Better than I did.  I’m sorry. 

Hiccup (3:52am): Astrid

Hiccup (3:53am): I keep saying your name, I don’t

Hiccup (3:53am): It’s my favorite name

Hiccup (3:53am): I know my name I just a bodily function but I love how you told me that and also none of this matters because I

Hiccup (3:54am): Please, if you get these, please give me your number.  Please. 

Hiccup (3:54am): I’m not begging.  Not in the manipulative way.  Or any way. 

Hiccup (3:56am): Except I actually am begging. 

Hiccup (3:56am): In the pathetic way. 

Hiccup (3:58am): I thought about running after you.  I didn’t because well, I was naked, or not, that’s not, I

Hiccup (3:59am): Please, just say anything.  Please.  I need to talk to you.  I

Hiccup (4:02am): I’ve been saying ‘I’ a lot, that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about what this means to you and I’m guessing it couldn’t be worse.  This couldn’t have gone worse.  I was everything you feared and more.  Or less. I don’t

Hiccup (4:03am): I don’t want your comfort, not that you’d give it, I’m saying I’m the worst.  I’m saying I’m awful and I’m sorry and this is so bad and it looks even worse than it is and I’d like to talk about exactly how bad it looks with you.  Only you.

Hiccup (4:04am):  Please, just message me back or give me your number or your address, I won’t stalk you, I’ll just send you a long-winded letter in cursive on cardstock. 

Hiccup (4:05am): I’ll buy cardstock, I can’t write cursive though

 This is pointless.  And stupid.  And the only thing Hiccup cares about even as he gets the notification that Heather’s plane has landed.  She’ll be home soon.  Fine.  It’s fine. 

He should make the bed.  He should shower.  He should do anything but obsessively message the perfect girl who isn’t responding. 

Astrid. 

Astrid. 

Astrid who feels like home.  Astrid who’s gone.  Astrid.  Astrid. 

He keeps saying her name like it has a hidden definition.  Like it’s a code that can unlock some way out of the mess he’s placed himself in. 

It can’t, because there isn’t. 

Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck. 

Because he made a mess.  Not just a mess.  A mud pit, in which he voluntarily brought dirt into his life, and then mixed it with water, and then invited someone who lacked the qualifications to turn mud into structure into his life, and somehow, instead of being a disaster, it just lit everything on fire.  

The mud pit is a clay-pit.  The moving sculpture of his life fired into place the second that he realized Astrid for what she truly was.  Is. 

It has to be possible.

Or, you know, there’s just no reason to any of this. 

But the thing is that after pulling the short stick enough times, it ceases to be random chance and starts to feel like reserved karma.  And Hiccup would like to cash in. 

And yes, he understands that the idea of karma is not a genie in a bottle, it is not a magic wand, it cannot magically bring Astrid into his life, not that he’d want it to because—well, she’d hate it—but he thinks there should be some sort of cosmic station where one could exchange the sum of their theoretical suffering for what they want. 

Like he lost a leg, that’s…big ass misery, ok?  That was a gigantic ‘fuck you’ from the universe.  He endured it with a mostly strong chin and stubborn sense of humor, but right now, he is willing to drop it forever just for a specific configuration of ten digits. 

That’s a pretty good deal, right universe?  Deal or No Deal?

Spin The Wheel of Fortune, Universe. 

Do You Want to Be a Millionaire, Universe? 

The Price is Right, as in this is the best he has to offer, so Universe, maybe make your move. 

“Honey, I’m home!” Heather calls from the living room as she disarms the security alarm. 

Check.  The universe says, sliding the queen of the castle into view. 

“In the bedroom,” he says back, staring down at Heather’s note, wondering how leading with it would go.  Not well, not that there’s any way any of this will go well. 

It’ll be faster maybe, if he leads with the Dear John letter he knew about for weeks that led him to make a ‘fuck you’ account on a dating website and God, he is so stupid. 

“What the fuck is this?”  Heather dives right into it, standing in the doorway with a folded piece of paper in her hand. 

“Oh, sorry, I was supposed to be vacuuming with my pearls on,” he says flatly, “I forgot we were going to roleplay Leave it to Beaver, which takes on a very different meaning when you add the sexual element—”

“Hiccup,” Heather sighs his name like it’s an impossible to squelch bodily function, and he can’t keep Astrid off his mind for even a second, can he?  “The note, by the front door, what is it?” 

“I’ve…” He swallows hard, wiping his hand on his boxers before picking up his only shred of pitiable evidence, “I have the note right here.” 

“Trade me,” she raises a non-plussed eyebrow, but her hand shakes as he puts her own letter into it and takes the scrap of paper from her. 

Thanks for last night.  I had fun.  Great apartment!

xx Astrid

It’s smeared, written in makeup, casual in a way that Astrid isn’t.  In a way he thought he was before he met her.  His mouth goes dry and he tries to hide it, looking up at Heather and waiting for her to react to her own note. 

She stares at it for a second before frowning and folding a new crease in it.  When she holds it up at him like the last card in her Uno hand, it hits him for the first and final time that he really was batting out of his league with her.  Not because she’s too good for him, even though his decision process over the last week or so corroborates that, but because she’s wrong for him at some fundamental level that he never believed in. 

He knows he’s playing fast and loose with the concept of karma, but for the first time, fate makes some kind of sense. 

“When did you find this?”  She looks ashamed under her hard edges, the ones that don’t blunt and crumble even when they’re alone.  The ones he used to think were strong when maybe they’re actually cruel, but he’s not dumb enough to blame her for making him that way. 

Maybe they bring it out in each other.  Brought. 

“When did you write it?” 

“Does that matter?”  She laughs and Hiccup shrugs, willing himself honest even though it’s hard. 

“Probably not.” 

“Because of Alison, or whoever wrote the slutty little note you left me to find?” 

‘Yes’ is the honest answer, but not the right one. 

“Because you’re right.  It’s not working.”  He sighs, “it hasn’t been for a while, we’ve been…growing apart—”

“You haven’t been growing at all,” she retorts, “and your snarky, cryptic thing isn’t as charming as it used to be when I’m around it all the time—”

“That’s fair,” he taps his temple, “I live here, it’s not great.” 

“You waited until I was out of town and cheated on me instead of just telling me directly that you’d found my note.” 

“Yeah,” he nods, “and you didn’t give me the note, I think it’s fair to say that communication has been breaking down for a while.  And communication is the cornerstone of any relationship, so suffice to say when that breaks down, the relationship goes with it.” 

She shakes her head at him, slowly, a little shocked.  He doesn’t remember the last time he actually surprised her, the last time she authentically laughed at his antics instead of spurring him on with a half-interested glint in her eyes.  She doesn’t quip back though.  That hasn’t happened in a very long time. 

“What happened to you?”  She asks after a too long minute and he shrugs. 

“I…realized it was time to be honest.  To stop doing this just because we feel like we’re supposed to, because we’ve put so much time into it.”  He feels it now, everything that drew him to her in the first place.  All the hours and days and weeks they spent together, making friction like it was a resource.  “The fact is, I don’t think we’re right for each other.  I think we’re just…or at least I was scared that there’d never be anything better.” 

“So, you’re breaking up with me because you’re infused with optimism that we’re both going to find something better.”  She shakes her head, looking lighter and bored and not hurt enough for what he did.  “You really believe that?” 

“Not believing it wasn’t working.” 

“You’re an idiot,” she points at Astrid’s note, which might as well be his prized possession now, because he’s going to have to move and it’ll fit in his wallet. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Yes, I’m furious with you but…I get it.  I wrote the note, I wish you hadn’t found it while snooping, I should have just given it to you.  I would have if I thought you were capable of being this mature about this—”

“No, not about—we’re broken up, I think we both understand it, but umm…did you ever fake it?”  What starts as half a joke ends in some bitter, curious, cringing place that he never wants to visit again, but given that this is probably his last chance to get the facts, he goes for it.  “When we were together?” 

He makes a hand gesture that he wishes he hadn’t.  Heather shakes her head and he thinks she’s feeling the bad fit too.  He thinks, because he’s realizing that he never learned how to read her face, not really.  And not because she didn’t let him, and not because he didn’t try, but it’s a language with a different taproot, something he could struggle with for years and never be fluent. 

“A year together.  A fucking year and—all this,” she gestures at the apartment that he didn’t even really like, but agreed to because going with the flow was the way to make their bickering day touring apartments end, “gone, and you want to know if I faked it?” 

“You shouldn’t do that,” he lectures, internally cringing but feeling lighter.  Vindicated, maybe.  Fully through the veil of embarrassment and into someplace free.  “It’s no good for you, it didn’t help me.” 

“Right, you do so well with criticism.” 

“Maybe I do,” he shrugs, “I think we both know there are a lot of things we never learned about each other.” 

“You’re an asshole.” 

And that makes him think of Astrid, and how he’s never felt closer to anyone, and how he wants this to be over with and then, how Dagur is probably going to beat him up.  He probably should get in touch with his long lost cousin, that’s probably his only chance against Dagur’s impending wrath. 

“I can move out.” 

“Ok.”  She stands up and looks at him with dwindling recognition, the polaroid of the present crystallizing in her memory and affirming him eternally as ‘that dickhead’.  It’s…it sucks.  He sucks.  “Let me know when you’re out, I’ll go stay with Dagur.” 

“Shouldn’t take that long,” he regrets how mean it sounds until it seems like she doesn’t care, cut off from him in a way that isn’t new.  He should have noticed.  They should have talked.  They didn’t, he was an asshole, and now the idea of Astrid is a North star brighter than the blizzard and definitely brighter than the vengeance his ego would like to imagine in Heather’s expression. 

Except it’s not there.  And he has no ego, not right now, not when he’s so eager to exit this conversation and this chapter in his life. 

She is too.  She wrote the note. 

He should have just told her he found it. 

He’s so glad he didn’t, and he’ll hate himself for it later, when the leak in his heart is patched. 

“Alright.”  She stands up and he half thinks she’s going to shake his hand, but she doesn’t, “well, bye, Hiccup.” 

Her voice might catch.  His throat might hurt. 

As soon as she leaves, he opens the dating site again and tries to message Astrid. 

Hiccup (5:10am): I broke up with her

CustomerHelpBot (5:10am): The account you are attempting to contact has been inactivated

Hiccup (5:11am): good job changing your name, very convincing

CustomerHelpBot (5:11am): The account you are attempting to contact has been inactivated, for further information, please contact customer service at 303-555-7893

Hiccup (5:11am): that’s a really weird way to give me your number. 

CustomerHelpBot (5:11am): The account you are attempting to contact has been inactivated, for further information, please contact customer service at 303-555-7893

Hiccup (5:12am): I’ll call the number

He gives the supposed threat a minute to sink in before doing just that, and the robotic voice that picks up honestly shocks him. 

“You have reached the customer service hotline for America’s Favorite Dating Site, what can I do to help you?” 

It’s not Astrid. 

Not remotely. 

For one, the voice is entirely humorless, entirely dead.  Bored in a way she’s not capable of, he’s seen it as she prowled around this apartment he hates, looking for something to do.  Also, it’s a guy. 

“Hi, I—Hi, you’re not—I’m actually looking to get in touch with someone I met on your site—”

“What is your name, sir?” 

“Hiccup Haddock, my username is—”

“PrincessOutpost?” 

“Thanks for not making me say it out loud.”  He was drunk when he thought of that.  He was drunk when he made this stupid plan.  He was sober when Astrid showed up, eyes bright and shoulders strong, breathing hard as she introduced herself and shook his hand. 

So awkward.  So pretty.  

And no, that first time wasn’t great.  It was…necessary, like spring cleaning, but after they talked…after they got to know each other…

“I’m afraid we can’t give information about any of our cancelled accounts to anyone but the police.” 

“She cancelled?” 

“The last profile that you interacted with is inactive, as of even earlier this morning.” 

“That—come on, man, it—”

“I’m sure it was magical, but we are legally obligated not to give our customers information out.” 

“I really just need a phone number or an address or…or a last name.” 

“I get that sometimes you don’t get a chance to talk much—”

“Rude,” Hiccup snaps. 

“But we are legally obligated to not give customers’ information to anyone but the police.” 

“The police?”  He pauses, picking Astrid’s eyeliner note up off of the bed and staring at it, resisting the stupid, fond, useless urge to swipe his thumb across her name. 

“Yes, they’re men in blue who enforce the laws.” 

“So, if I know she’d broken the law, you’re saying I could get that personal information.” 

“Sir, our service doesn’t exist to help stalkers—”

“What about people who break and enter?” 

#two night stand au #hiccstrid au #modern au #httyd fic #one more chapter methinks #i fought off melatonin to finish this because it kept haunting me

[galaxxyboy]

The Truth About the Moon.

summary: the one where ryan gets his period and shane's the best boyfriend ever. word count: 1,210 warnings: trans character, trans!ryan, menstruation, blood mention, angst, light hurt/comfort

Ryan is the dumbest motherfucker on the entire planet.

Well, okay, there are probably people who are dumber than him. Like the person who rejected Hitler from art school. Not that he knows if that story is true. He could probably ask Shane, but he would also probably get a ten hour lecture on the entire extended history of the Holocaust.

But right now, standing in front of his bathroom mirror with a t-shirt tucked under one arm and his binder under the other, he’s at least the dumbest motherfucker in his apartment. On one hand, he knows he shouldn’t sleep with a binder on. On the other, Shane is sitting in his bedroom and Ryan hasn’t told him he’s trans yet.

It’s not like he’s ashamed; it’s just that he passes well enough now that he doesn’t have to introduce himself like “hey, I’m Ryan, I’m trans, he/him”. In their friendship, it had never come up, and now, in their whirlwind relationship, he feels awkward randomly bringing it up. How would he even do it? Over text? Like ‘hey, bud, just letting you know that I’m trans, anyway where should we go for our next shoot?’ Yeah, no thanks.

Shane’s voice comes through the door, breaking up his thoughts with a gentle, “hey, Ry? You good?”

Ryan mentally curses his situation as he pulls his binder, slightly too tight, over his head. He can almost hear his endocrinologist yelling at him from here. “Yeah, hold on.” He pulls his t-shirt on and a pair of sweats and then exits the bathroom, where he sees Shane sitting on his bed, scrolling through Twitter.

Shane looks up at him when he hears the door open and he scoffs. “You’re not gonna take your shirt off?”

Ryan, an expert in Ignoring Shane, just sighs and turns off the light. Shane doesn’t press it further, just reaches for Ryan with grabby hands and a pouty face. Ryan laughs at him, presses a soft kiss to his lips as Shane’s arms wrap around his shoulders. Shane lays them down so that Ryan’s face is pushed up against Shane’s bare chest, breathing in his boyfriend as Shane runs his hands through Ryan’s hair. He’s such a girl , but also it’s so nice that he kind of doesn’t care.

“Goodnight,” Ryan breathes into the quiet of his bedroom.

Shane kisses his head. “Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the ghosties bite.” His fingers loosely run up Ryan’s arms in a poor imitation of a ghost that gives him goosebumps anyway.

“Shut up, Shane,” Ryan says with no heat as he falls asleep.

When Ryan wakes up again, he’s distinctly aware of the fact that something is wrong.

The first thing he notices is that his back hurts, and that Shane is asleep on his chest. He moves a bit to try to crack his back under his binder, which is when he notices his thighs are sticky. “Oh no,” he whispers to no one in particular as he pulls the sheets back. In the soft moonlight and the LA street lights, he notices his thighs are covered in blood that’s soaked through the material of his sweatpants.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he rubs his hand over his face. “Fuck, fuck .”

Shane, a notoriously light sleeper, stirs. “Ryan?” he asks. He cracks open an eye and Ryan must have ‘ hey, I’m anxious !’ written on his face because Shane wakes up in point two seconds.

“Ryan, hey,” Shane mutters as he sits up. He flicks the light on and puts a big stupid hand to Ryan’s thigh, and then immediately pulls it back. “Holy shit, you’re bleeding.”

‘Fucking say something, Ryan! ’ the voice inside his head screams at him. “Shane,” is all Ryan actually manages to say.

Shane ignores him. He’s about the closest to freaking out that Ryan’s ever seen him. His face is red and his hair is a mess. It’s actually kind of funny, in like a ‘I hate myself ’ kinda way. “Holy shit, what happened? Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? We need to go to the hospital!” He reaches out a hand for Ryan, who scoots forward a bit so that Shane makes eye contact with Ryan’s soiled sheets. “Jesus, that’s so much blood.”

“Shane!” Ryan screams, which manages to shut Shane up, for once. There’s a long beat where they just stare into each other’s eyes, and then Ryan takes a deep breath and says, “it’s my period.”

“I’m not joking,” Ryan says. Shane gives him a blank stare and Ryan feels tears well up in his eyes. “I’m transgender.”

Shane gives Ryan a look like he’s just had the breath punched out of him. “Ryan,” he says, in that weirdly cryptic Shane way that Ryan can never decipher.

He reaches out for Ryan’s hand and Ryan pulls away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” Ryan says. He stumbles his way out of bed and walks into the bathroom, pulling it shut before Shane can follow him. His eyes sting with tears as he pulls his sweatpants off and throws them on the floor. He grabs tissues and tries to wipe away at the traitor blood. “Fuck you,” he says to his body.

Shane pounds on the door. “Ryan!” he says. When Ryan doesn’t answer, his voice comes out softer. “Ryan, come on. I’m not mad, dude. I just wanna talk.”

Ryan feels all the fight drain out of him. He pushes open the door and falls into Shane’s arms. Shane takes him easily, one hand combing through the hair at the back of Ryan’s head and the other cradling his shoulders. “Hey, I’m not mad at you,” Shane says again.

“You should be,” Ryan answers. His voice sounds about as numb as he feels. “I lied to you.”

Shane shakes his head. “You didn’t lie,” he says, cool as ever, like it’s a fact. “You told me you’re a man and you are. That’s that.”

“I never told you I’m trans,” Ryan says. “You deserve to know that I’m not even-”

“None of that,” Shane answers. He tilts Ryan’s chin up so they can look at each other and earnestly adds, “you are who you are and you don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

Ryan feels his heart swell with love for Shane for about the 80 millionth time in his life. He reaches up to connect their lips and they fall into a gentle, easy kiss. When Ryan pulls back, Shane puts a hand to Ryan’s cheek and looks at him like he’s reinvented the wheel. “You’re gorgeous.”

Ryan turns into the heat of Shane’s hand. “You’re not leaving?” he asks into the quiet of his room.

“Nah,” Shane answers. He gives Ryan a goofy smile. “You’re stuck with me, Bergara.”

Outside, the moon shines on the two of them. In a few hours, they have to get up for work. They’ll be running on caffeine and aspirin. Ryan will probably feel dead as hell.

But right now, Ryan has arms wrapped around his waist, holding him tight and not leaving. He has a goofy smile, soft lips against his. He has love. He has acceptance.

Maybe he is the dumbest motherfucker on the entire planet, but at least he has Shane.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

hi all!

i wrote this fic back in 2017 but it was so bad that i wanted to die. i wanted to do it some justice so here’s the 2020 version!

disclaimer! this fanfiction dealt with gender dysphoria. i myself am non-binary afab so i write from my own experience. hope you can relate.

please please like and/or reblog if you liked this!! it really helps!! also you can send me some prompts if you want idk.

have a great day and drink water!

- is 

#shyan #shyan fic #bfu fic #mine #write #buzzfeed unclean

[nomattertheoceans]

Feysand Holiday Fluff Fest - Day 3

Stop it with the scissors!

Prompt: i’m absentmindedly making snowflakes in class and you’re the nerd who can’t quit glaring at me every time you hear my scissors - 1K words

Rhys hated English class.

It was a stupid class anyway. What was the point of learning so many things about grammar and literature when, as a Senior, he already knew he was going to study Economics next year, and he couldn’t have cared less about Shakespeare.

Plus, it had started to snow today and he really wanted to get out of here and enjoy the winter weather with Az and Cass. They were already out, but he still had another twenty minutes to go, and he didn’t know how he was going to get through it.

Even his usual ray of sunshine in this class wasn’t of help today. Because Feyre was starting to annoy him. He wouldn’t have thought it was possible. He usually spent his English classes stealing glances towards her, admiring the way she ruffled with her hair or the small smile that spread on her lips when she enjoyed a passage in a book they were studying. Yes, Feyre was the highlight of this class, usually.

Not today.

Because today she had apparently decided that she had more important things to do than listening to their teacher, and she was cutting up weird shapes in a stack of paper. Very noisily.

He tried to focus on the lecture in front of him and ignore the incessant noise of the scissors, but Feyre was sitting just beside him at the back of the class, and there was no ignoring her when she was this close.

Still ten minutes to go before he could run outside and enjoy the first afternoon of the year with snow on the roads.

Still ten minutes of Feyre’s constant commotion beside him.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Can you cut it out with the scissors already?”

She looked up at him with a dazed look in her eyes, and as he gazed inside them, he immediately felt guilty. But she didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she look as if she was coming back from a dream.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he answered, stumbling on his own words, unable to look away from the blue-grey eyes he liked so much, “it’s just that I’m trying to focus and the noise of your scissors is bothering me.”

She laid the scissors on her desk. “Sorry.”

They stayed silent for a minute, but Rhysand’s mind wasn’t any more focused. And Feyre seemed to catch up on that.

“You know, I don’t think it’s my scissors’ fault that you hate English class so much. Can I go back to making these now?”

Ashamed at knowing she was right, he just nodded at her, and she picked up the scissors. And for a good five minutes, the class continued while Feyre was cutting through paper in varied shapes.

“What are you doing, anyway?”

She turned to him and smiled. “Can’t focus on Shakespeare, huh?”

“Nope. So?”

“I’m making paper snowflakes for the tables at the Winterfest.”

Oh no. He’d tried avoiding the subject around her, and now she was the one talking about it. Because he really wanted to invite her to the dance, he had even prepared a speech explaining to her why she should agree to go with him. That had been a month ago. And now the dance was only four days away and he still hadn’t asked her and she was probably going with a date by now.

He wanted to change the subject, but he didn’t know to what, so he just said whatever came into his mind.

“You’re on the organization committee?”

Great way to change the subject. He could have facepalmed himself right now. But Feyre didn’t seem to register his awkwardness, she just answered.

“Not really, but they needed help for the decorations so I proposed to help.”

“Oh.”

What was he supposed to say now? She didn’t seem to be waiting for an answer, but he really wanted to ask her out.

“So are you going with a date?”

The scissors stopped moving. Smooth, Rhysand, really smooth. She turned to him slowly.

“Why?”

“No reason, just… chatting.”

“Oh.” Was it disappointment on her voice? No, he was probably imagining it. He knew for a fact that Helion had asked her out and she’d said no, and he knew Tarquin had planned on asking her to go as his date. She was probably going with him, and that was why she had turned down Helion. Because really, why would anyone turn down Helion if given the chance? Even he wouldn’t have said no. It had to be something other than disappointment. It had to.

“I’m not going to the dance on Saturday.” Feyre’s statement took him by surprise.

“What? Why?”

“Nobody asked me to go.” Why was she lying? She knew Helion was his friend and he was bound to know about her telling him no. But she wasn’t done talking. “No, that’s not true. Tarquin and Helion both asked me if I wanted to go with them. What I mean is, nobody that I want to go with asked me. Yet.”

She was staring at him intently, and he felt heat creep up his cheek. Did she.. Was she waiting for him to ask? Or was he reading the signs completely wrong?

Just at that moment, the bell started to ting and he jumped on his feet, not knowing how to handle what had just happened. He started to gather his things, his cheeks flushed all the way to his ears, and was ready to go when Feyre got up and gently grabbed his hand to make him look at her. God, she was pretty when she smiled.

“Just do it, Rhys. It’s in four days and I still need to find a dress.”

He kept staring at her, the words stuck at the bottom of his throat. But she didn’t let go of him, staring into his eyes expectantly. Finally, his heart slowed down enough for him to focus and speak.

“Do you want to go to the Winterfest with me?”

The smile turned into a grin.

“Took you long enough.” And with that, she gave him a peck on the cheek, and she was gone.

Current tag list (send me an ask if you want to be tagged, I have a hard time keeping track of the comments):

@summernightskyy @illyrian-bookworm @amren-courtofdreams @vanilla28 @rory050 @philosophorumaurum02 @illyrianbeauty @kybaeza @sincerely-unidentified @highladyofthesith @the-regal-warrior @inrealliampain @kiss-my-maas @thestarwhowhishes @highlady-of-dusk @amusedowl @highladyofelfhame @fucking-winchester-trash @sleeping-and-books @l0sts0uls1128 @booksnmore @ladyblackstairs @secret-lil-rendez-vous @everything-that-i-love @kingdomofbrokenhearts @fourshizzle149 @musicmaam @voiceoftheroses @avenrebekah @queenofdorkville @bambamdallas @outofstyles13 @bow-dawn @iliveforfandoms226 @city-of-fae @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @notyourclassicshadowhunter @ellenoftroy @tonystarksbish @propagandaprincess @thelaughingzeebra @ame233 @hopelesslyinlovewithbooks @shadowstar2313 @eve-of-the-night-court @quakeriders @fireheart-of-your-dreams @feeoly @yikesitsmaddie @buffykitten @alifletcher2012 @faefromthenorth @emmejo26 @lowhangingtreebranches @mynewdreamwasyou @goldfishh20 @feyrearcherons @ttakeitbacknoww @rtheinkqueen @thereaderandfangirl @the-last-apprentice @whilma-warfstache  @julemmaes @meltalgel-ig @wifeofchrishemsworth @worldoffae @thesurielships @chemicha @kindofawalkingpoem​

#Feysand Holiday Fluff Fest #feysand fanfiction

[peteywillproceed]

The Devil In Disguise - Part 1

A/N: Hi guys, wow this has been a long time coming! I’ve been writing this whilst being sick in bed, so I hope it’s not that terrible! As always, I hope you like it, constructive feedback is appreciated, and if you wanna be added to the taglist just send me an ask! x

Summary:  Y/n belongs to The Circle, a criminal gang known for its ruthlessness and brutality. Given a mission to kill Spiderman, Y/n attends Midtown High undercover to seek him out, not intending to feel more for one of her new friends than she should. Meanwhile, Spiderman must deal with the increasingly dangerous Huntress, never suspecting her true identity might hit closer to home than he could ever believe…

Word Count: 4,150 (the very defintion of getting carried away!)

Prologue

The New York skyline glittered in front of you as you stepped into the street and the sun began to rise. Ribbons of orange and yellow light were scattered through panels of glass lining the roads, buildings stretching so far into the sky you had to squint to see the tops. The acrid smell of smoke from exhaust pipes burnt the insides of your nostrils, but the feeling was so new, so exciting, that you barely thought about it, choosing instead to glide along the pavements as horns honked and the city came alive.

All it had taken was a three-hour flight from Minnesota and awkward introductions to your cover family for you to get here; now it was Monday, the first day back for the kids at Midtown Tech, and your first day period. Your school bag felt foreign on your shoulders, the weight of textbooks and assigned reading an alien feeling. You’d almost ignored the homework, like you’d always done when your dad tried to assign you extra reading for your training.

But you knew if you wanted to fit in, the bad girl image you’d worked so hard to create over the years wasn’t going to work, so instead you’d stuffed the suit Brenton had given you into the dark depths of the bag and buried it with chemistry. Begrudgingly, you’d cast an eye over the pages in an attempt to figure out what you’d be expected to do at this school, and you hadn’t understood a word. How Brenton had wangled your entrance to the best science school in the country was truly a mystery.

You swung through the gates and pushed your sunglasses up on your head, ignoring the surprised looks from students who weren’t used to newbies. You winked at one of the boys staring with his mouth open and spat the gum you’d been chewing into the nearest bin, catching yourself before you let yourself go too much. You were Brooke Loader, chemistry nerd and all around good girl, whose wardrobe consisted solely of grey cardigans and granny skirts. You weren’t Y/n L/n anymore, and you had to be careful.

“Excuse me?” you caught a guy’s shoulder as he rushed past you and looked up at him through your lashes. “Can you tell me where B27 is?”

“You’re new?” the guy ran his eye over you questioningly “I’m Flash.”

“Err, nice to meet you. But I’m really just looking for homeroom.”

Flash nodded, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s round the corner, good luck with Harrington.”

Without another word he spun on his feet and disappeared into the throng of students that had appeared in the corridor. You glanced down the hallway he’d pointed to and noticed a bunch of kids streaming into a classroom, figuring that was where you needed to be. You glanced at your watch, noting you were perfectly late, and strode towards the door.

“Ahh, Miss Loader, I was wondering when you were going to show up,” a voice dripping with sarcasm drawled as you poked your head through. You glanced up at the male voice and saw the guy you guessed was Mr Harrington, giving him a small wave as you stood awkwardly in the door. You’d never played the quiet, unsure girl, and it was taking all your energy to bite back your retort.

“Well, please take a seat. There’s one next to MJ,” he pointed towards a girl with long, brown hair, whose head was buried in a book. As you swung into the seat, you clocked the title and leaned over to whisper to her.

“To Kill A Mockingbird? That’s my favourite.” Of course it wasn’t, you’d never read the stupid thing. But it was Brooke’s favourite.

MJ raised her eyebrows, squinting as she tried to make you out. Her gaze was so penetrating that for one, awful minute you thought she’d figured you out and your cover was already blown. But a smile soon spread across her face and she closed the book.

“Mine too,” she nodded, reaching her hand out “MJ.”

“Brooke,” you grinned, glad you’d got through to her. You glanced nervously towards the front of the class, but Mr Harrington was busy at his computer and you reckoned it was probably safe to talk.

“So, you’re new then, how’d that happen? It’s senior year.”

“Parents moved,” you shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “guess they just couldn’t leave me behind.”

It was a simple cover, but MJ burst into laughter and your joke, earning herself an annoyed look from Harrington. “What’s your specialty?”

“Chemistry. But I gotta be honest, I didn’t really think I’d get in here.”

“Really?” MJ raised an eyebrow “why’s that?”

“I bombed the entrance tests,” you pretended to look ashamed, glancing back down at your desk “I kind of feel like I don’t belong.”

“Don’t be stupid, what have you got next? The bell goes soon and I can walk you there.”

“Wow, thanks. Err, I think I have History,” you pointed at the print out of the timetable you’d grabbed from reception and MJ smiled.

“Me too. You’ve got lunch the same period as me and my friends, I’ll introduce you guys. You’ll meet more friendly faces like that.”

You didn’t know why you felt so relieved, you hadn’t been worried about making friends, but there was something about MJ that made you want to impress her, even if you were lying through your teeth to do it.

The bell rang, a screeching sound you definitely had not been prepared for, and MJ laughed as your hands flew over your ears. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“It’s like a fucking banshee,” you muttered, eyes widening as you realised what you’d just said. Brooke Loader definitely didn’t swear. “I..I mean…”

“Brooke, chill, you can swear, I don’t care!”

“Oh okay,” you took a breath, bracing yourself for anymore slip ups. You’d been here less than half an hour, and already you were royally screwing up the only job Brenton had ever entrusted you with.

As MJ walked with you to your next class, you chatted animatedly about the city and everything there was to do. You kept trying to slip in Spiderman, but she brushed off any mention of the superhero, and changed the conversation back to what you’d been talking about originally. She didn’t seem like the kind of girl who’d be interested in what celebrities got up to anyway, and you made a mental note to try and bring him up in a different way.

At last, the class started and you could lose yourself in rudimentary history you’d never cared about. There was way too much bias in the subject, you remembered one of your tutors telling you, and the only thing you could learn from a class like that was just how dedicated they were to the government. You scribbled notes like your hand was on fire, staying as quiet as you could, but none of what you wrote down was what the teacher was lecturing. Instead, you made a plan of attack for finding more about the webslinger you’d been assigned to take out.

You seriously doubted that any of the students knew his identity, and even if they did they weren’t just going to outright tell you. No, you had to be sneaky here, and you had to bring it up subtly. You decided that, every chance you got, you’d slip in a question relating to Spiderman that would be innocuous enough. After all, why wouldn’t you be curious? You’d just moved to the city that was home to an Avenger!

When the final bell rang, you knew exactly what you had to do. A buzz in your pocket let you know you had a text, the only possible source the burner phone Brenton had given you before you’d left.

‘Status report’

You rolled your eyes. Jesus, you’d been here less than twenty four hours, what did the man expect? Full details of identity and credit card info?

‘Give me a chance. My bed’s barely gone cold.’

Hoping the response was snappy enough to get him off your case, all you had to do now was pray your plan of action worked - if it didn’t, you didn’t want to think about what the consequences might be.

***

“Guys, this is Brooke,” MJ introduced you to the circle of people crowded round one of the cafeteria tables who stared at you like you were the last sandwich at the picnic.

“Hi,” you smiled, casting your eye over them. They were all the same age, and at least you recognised one. Flash was leaning back in his chair, his feet kicked up on the table with a wicked glint in his eye.

“Hey sweetheart, find homeroom alright then?”

“You’re friends with him?” you raised an eyebrow in MJ’s direction and she stifled a laugh.

“Not really, he just hangs around because he can’t convince anyone else to put up with him.”

“Now that makes sense.” Flash rolled his eyes at your comment, but you simply took a seat in front of a brown, curly haired boy who hadn’t taken his eyes off you. “Brooke,” you introduced yourself “nice to meet you.”

“Pe…Peter,” he stumbled, and you bit back a smile. Somebody wasn’t used to talking to girls, you thought, spying the awkward rub of sweaty palms against jeans. He was kind of cute, in a nerdy, never had sex kind of way – his jumper was ruffled and his hair was a mess, none of that nasty gel stuff you’d seen in the movies. He didn’t seem that sure of himself, too busy clutching a pen between his fingers as he scribbled what looked like equations into a book.

“And I’m Ned,” the other guy interrupted, and you mentally shook yourself. You were here for one thing and one thing only, and it wasn’t to be going after guys.

“Nice to meet you, Ned,” you nodded, scooping up some of the brown sludge you’d had slopped on your plate by a slightly grumpy cafeteria lady. “God, the food really isn’t good anywhere is it?”

“Just wait until you try the lasagne,” Peter laughed, suddenly animated. “I’m pretty sure they use cardboard instead of pasta.”

“Good to know,” you smiled, itching to change this conversation into something more interesting. Luckily, MJ swooped in with the perfect question, and you knew exactly how to work that to your advantage.

“So Brooke, what do you like about New York so far?” she asked, and you pretended to think.

“Well, I’ve not seen that much, but I hear Spiderman lives here,” you shot a conspiring look at MJ who shifted uncomfortably in her suit “he’s pretty cool.”

“Uh, yeah,” Ned coughed, and suddenly the atmosphere grew a lot tenser than it had been twenty seconds ago. That was odd, you thought – for a city so hung up on having its own Avenger, these people seemed…awkward. Why? What did they have to hide?

“Do you see him on the streets?” You asked breezily, happily tucking into your food as you felt eyes burning your skin.

“Err, well, he’s pretty busy I guess,” MJ coughed, and you glanced over at Peter who’d remained suspiciously quiet throughout the whole conversation.

“Pete?”

“Wha- oh, uh, Spiderman? Yeah, uh, he’s cool, he’s a cool dude,” Peter stuttered, turning bright red. You were feeling the second hand embarrassment here, and you wanted to scream.

“Do you guys just not like him or something?” you tried to play your comment off, laughing and flipping your hair, but the tension was still thick in the air and you cursed yourself for alienating them already. It was pretty clear they knew more than they let on.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Flash grinned “it’s just he’s only usually about at night so none of us really know that much about him. People make out that he’s Queens’ little superhero but he’s an Avenger, he’s not really hanging about on the streets.”

You nodded, stuffing your face with the disgusting mash before you could say anything else. Another beep in your pocket and you turned away from the group, letting them dive back into their own conversations whilst you slid the burner phone out of your pocket.

Need you to go to Warehouse tonight. Pick up a package and keep it safe. Address to follow.

You let the words wash over you, processing what they meant, and bit back the squeal that threatened to erupt. Finally, you got to go and do something – these people might not be giving you anything, but at least the mission wasn’t completely boring.

“What ya doing?” a voice interrupted your thoughts, and on instinct you slammed the phone into your pocket. Peter cocked at eyebrow in surprise and you let out a little gasp.

“Err, nothing, just, uh, texting my mum.”

“Oh yeah? About what? Plans for world domination?” He smiled at you, and it was so endearing that you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling back. Brown hair curled around his ears and he pushed his glasses further up his nose as he stared at you, making you laugh as he crossed his eyes and pulled a stupid face.

“Something like that,” you finally replied as the bell signalling the end of lunch rang through the cafeteria.

“Hey, what have you got next? Let me walk you to class.”

You were taken aback by Peter’s offer, and were half tempted to refuse him before you remembered how flustered he’d become over the mere mention of Spiderman. Maybe there was something there…

“Sure,” you said, dumping the remainder of your food in the bin. “Spanish, but I can’t speak a single word of it.”

“Ahh, it’s not that hard, sneak Google Translate in if you have to.”

“Didn’t peg you for a cheater, Parker.”

“Didn’t peg you for a Chemistry specialty, but here we are.”

You placed a hand over your heart, mock offended, and rolled your eyes. “You wound me. Only Spiderman can save me now.”

“I’m sure Spiderman would love to,” Peter replied, exaggerating the ‘love’ a little more than you liked.

“I hear he’s rumoured to be a high school student,” you wiggled your eyebrows, spotting your opportunity. Your little risk had been worth it though, because suddenly Peter looked like he’d been caught in headlights, and his entire body went rigid in shock.

“What?” he asked, panic lacing his voice.

“Oh you haven’t heard?” the faux innocence in your voice was annoying even you, but you bit your lip and got on with it, knowing this was the only way to get the information you needed. Stumbling upon these guys was a stroke of luck in your eyes, they seemed to know a hell of a lot about the webslinger. “Yeah, he’s rumoured to be a student here.”

“Yeah, no no, I heard that,” Peter shook himself a little, but started chewing on his lip. Your eyes were drawn to the way his teeth nibbled the skin, but you snapped out of your reverie as he waved a hand in your face. “Y/n?”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” you smiled, hoping that would make you look less like an idiot. Jesus, you just needed to get on with the job.

“I just said, do you think you’ll be able to find your way to your class? I’ve just remembered I’ve gotta go…sort something out.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, of course,” you nodded, confused as to why Peter was suddenly running off. You hadn’t said anything that crazy, and you hoped you hadn’t offended him. But then again, so what if you had? It wasn’t like you were going to be here much longer anyway.

“Awesome, thanks!” Peter called over his shoulder, but it was pointless because he was already tearing off down the hallway.

You were smart enough to figure out wherever he was going was probably related to the person you were trying to kill, but following him felt…creepy. You’d just met this guy, and even though he may very well have been your best lead, it still felt wrong to tail him round the whole of New York. Instead, you made a mental note to run a background check as soon as you got in that evening, and tried to pretend yourself that you weren’t in the least bit interested in the results for anything other than work reasons.

***

It was late when you finally got to the warehouse Brenton had sent you to that night. You’d been meaning to leave well before eight, but your host family had insisted upon dinner, and it wasn’t like you could tell them you had to run an errand. You ended up getting there just past midnight, and you cursed yourself for not texting Brenton – what if the person delivering the package had gone home? What if they just hadn’t bothered?

You were dressed head to toe in the stealth suit that had been specially made for you, and you had to admit you absolutely loved it. You’d been expecting it to fit baggy in all the places it should’ve been tight, but whoever had made it clearly knew what they were doing – the carbon fibre fit snuggly and the vibranium swords strapped to your back were as light as they were deadly.

Sneaking into the warehouse, you shone your torch around the building, quickly realising it was abandoned. Whatever company used to operate here had long since packed up and left, but small traces of the operation still lingered with pieces of alien tech scattered around the floor.

“You’re late,” a gravelly voice said, and you spun to find the source. The beam from your torch landed on a figure hovering in the shadows, and you rolled your eyes at the theatre.

“Oh cut the dramatics. Code word.”

“Heretic,” the gravelly voice replied, confirming the code name you’d been told to expect “And you?”

“Huntress.”

The figure moved out of the shadows and clicked his fingers. Immediately, white light filled the echoing warehouse, lights flicking on everywhere, so bright you could see every cobweb. You covered your eyes on reflex, forgetting how vulnerable it made you, and blinked hard at the sudden change.

“I have some information for you,” Heretic said, and you crossed your arms in annoyance.

“I thought it was a package.”

“That too. But first: Spiderman knows you’re after him. Our sources say he found a hitman had been dispatched once he took down the Manhattan Chapter.”

“He’s probably expecting an old, white man. Doesn’t put me in any danger, he can’t see my face in this,” you shrugged, grateful for the inclusion of a mask in your suit.

“Do they train all the young recruits to be this cocky?” The man sighed, and you let out a hollow laughed.

“Only the bosses’ daughters.” You had plenty of this, the assumption that because you were a young lady you paled in comparison to what older men could accomplish. It was just the way The Circle was, but you were sick of constantly being underestimated. “Just give me the package.”

The man started digging around in his pockets and produced a small, crumpled packet of wrinkled brown paper. An ethereal, purple glow seeped out from the corners he’d failed to wrap, and you knew instantly what it was. You reached out to take it, but before you could, a line of sticky rope shot down from above you and snatched it from the man’s palm.

“That doesn’t belong to you,” a voice said.

Your head snapped upward, your hand flying to your sword as recognition switched on in your mind. Didn’t you know that voice from somewhere? Red and blue spandex swung from one of the lights, and the masked man was waving cheerily from his perch. Heretic started to run, not getting far before he was pinned against a wall in a fresh web, and you rolled your eyes – and he thought you’d been cocky.

“Actually, it does belong to me, and I’d like it back.” You turned your attention back to Spiderman, who let go of the light he swung from and dropped down to the floor, landing almost silently. He tossed the package lazily in his hand, his head cocked as though he had no idea of the power that tiny object held.

“I think you’ll find it belongs to the United States Government, but I’m sure they’d be willing to lend it to you if you ask nicely,” he shrugged, and you bared your teeth, thankful that you’d switched your voice modifier on well before you’d arrived. He, however, hadn’t, if he even had one, and the familiarity of the voice was starting to get on your nerves.

“I really don’t give a shit about semantics, give me back my package.”

“Why don’t you come and get it?” He dangled the challenge in front of you, waiting for you to take the bait, and even though every fibre in your body told you not to, pure instinct won over.

You started running towards him, leaping into the air and flipping yourself high over his head. As you arced over his body, your hand shot out to grab his mask, but he ducked at the last second and your fingers just grazed with the material. You hit the ground and slid along the concrete, looking up just in time to roll away from a web grenade.

“Come on, Spidey, you can do better than that,” you panted, wanting to hear him talk more. If he did, maybe you’d have a better chance at placing him.

He seemed frustrated by your comment, suddenly becoming a lot more energetic, and threw himself towards you. It was a mistake you’d been expecting, and within half a second you’d brought your knife out and thrown it towards his lunging body. The aim was crap, but it caught his side, and he hit the ground with a thud.

You started toward him, sword in hand to finish the job, a smirk on your face as you ran through everybody you’d met so far and their voices, desperate to figure out which one matched, when all of a sudden Spidey’s hand shot out from underneath him, and you were caught by a flying web that threw you back against the wall. Your head cracked against the concrete, and stars swam before your eyes, threatening to make you pass out as black tinged the edges of your vision.

“Is that good enough for you?” he asked, walking slowly towards you. He was clutching his side and you could just make out a river of blood dribbling from a wound you’d caused. “What’s your name?”

“Huntress,” you bit out, regaining your senses and starting to kick against the web fluid.

“I wouldn’t bother, that stuff won’t dissolve for another two hours,” he shrugged, collapsing to the floor. “Plenty of time to chit chat.”

“I don’t really want to engage in conversation thanks,” you hoped the acid was enough to throw him off guard, and he threw his hands up in defence.

“Hey, lady, you’re the one that tried to kill me, not the other way around.” When you didn’t respond, he continued. “I’d really like to know who’s under that mask.”

“Never gonna happen, this suit’s coded to only come apart when I voice activate it to.”

“Oh, I know, I figured that out as soon as I saw it. I was just musing.”

You stopped, mouth falling open in shock. This guy had just…seen your suit, and figured out how a multi million dollar piece of tech worked? Just like that? So he was smart. No wonder he went to Mid Town Tech.

“Look, I don’t have much longer, if I don’t get home I’ll get in soooooooo much trouble. But have a nice evening!” Spiderman started to get to his feet, the whole conversation feeling surreal to you, and you called out to him.

“Wait! Don’t think this will be the last you’ve heard of me!”

He shrugged in response, pulling the package out of a hidden pocket and turning it over in his hand. “Now that I believe.”

All at once, he was gone, swinging out of the warehouse and leaving you trapped in his web. You tried to wrestle one of your swords from your back, but it was impossible to even move your wrist. Grumbling in defeat, you let your head fall back against the wall and grimaced at the pain. This was all so ridiculous, he shouldn’t have even been able to touch you, let alone pin you up against a bloody wall. You’d let your guard slip because you thought his voice had sounded familiar, and you’d got excited that maybe you’d already run into him.

Next time, you wouldn’t be so stupid.

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