#shes the most active in choosing to take his word despite knowing hes fucking with her

[cinnamonest]

May I present to you... innocent playgirl reader x modern au incel scara??

Like reader is just a sweet gal that thinks this boy who she's in a project with is pretty and despite his weird and creepy behaviour, it's a good thing she's trying to make a move, because y'know! it's actually women's fault that men get so frustrated and depressed since they never give the short guys a chance! Only go for the top 1% and all that.

Unfortunately after scara naps her, noncons the absolute, living daylights out of her, and continues to terrorize her ass does she realize that being nice and sweet to the degenerate, sexist incel in hopes of fixing him wasn't the brightest idea 😔

(If you can't tell I love the idea of kind n sweet MC who doesn't know any better getting her shit wrecked for no good reason because incel scara is just that much of an asshole)

Ohhhh my God bless you for this

Precisely, it’s so unfair. It’s just extra inches of leg bone, it means nothing. And yet day in, day out, the oppressed class (sub-6-foot males) have to deal with unjust discrimination. All because you have the most superficial desires and can’t compromise on such a silly thing. No, you’d rather whore around with some guy that will just use you and cheat on you because your dumb girl brain seeks that out like every other. And in spite of being smarter and better than the neanderthals you choose to date, which should entitle him to pussy, he’s left with nothing but porn and his hand. The world is an unjust place.

He’s pessimistic as all hell, so he can’t take any kindness or attempts at getting closer from you at face value, there has to be an ulterior motive.

You’re only pleasant to him when you talk to him because you want something. You probably expect him to do work for you, or help you cheat on tests for you or fork over money. You think he’s the sort of loser that will salivate over any girl that gives him a shred of attention, don’t you. That he’ll run himself ragged doing whatever for you just to get your approval. Well. You’re not going to get that.

It goes along with this greater idea of you he’s crafted in his head, one that fits a similarly pessimistic image. It doesn’t matter how “innocent” you are, literally anything you say or do, he’s projecting this stereotype of a secretly not-so-innocent, ultra-promiscuous college girl onto you and using it as both justification for his disdain and as a means of rationalize not leaping at this rare chance for female interaction — it’s not that he’s too afraid of rejection, it’s just that he knows that talking to you is a waste of time anyway, you undoubtedly have guys lined up you're fucking on a regular basis.

Besides, even if he tried, you’re far too dull-brained, so any conversations you’re capable of aren’t going to be stimulating anyway. You’re in college, of course you’ve spent all this time racking up a body count because God knows girls only use college as a means to get dicked all the time, they don’t actually care for academics in any way.

And poor you, you're completely oblivious to his bitter seething. You just think he's just quiet. And surely he doesn’t come off as rude and cold on purpose, no, you tell yourself that he probably just is one of those guys that is naturally like that, it’s not malicious.

But then you have to start going out of your way to be actively nice. Trying to make conversation and say nice things — you must think he’s stupid, that he doesn’t know that it’s actually just fake niceness so you can lure him in and get him to say something you can then mock him for in that faux-sweet tone of yours. In the exact opposite of your assumptions on him, he assumes malice in everything you do and say. He won’t give you the satisfaction of giving you leverage, so, he stays quiet, gives you one-word answers and shrugs.

What plans do you have for the weekend?, you say, in your attempts to make conversation. Ugh.

Not only are you trying to jab at him by reminding him that he has no plans other than staying inside and wallowing, but clearly you do have plans, undoubtedly ones that end with you stumbling home in a walk-of-shame on a Sunday morning.

And the nicer you get, the more you irritate him. What makes you think you can just be like that? All smiley and sunshine-like, and for what? To mock him? Acting innocent and sweet as if you don't know what kind of power you inherently hold just by having a hole between your legs, as if you're not actively abusing that power when you're clearly trying to get him to be attracted to you.

Each and every class period, he ends up so infuriated by the few words you exchange that the only way he can even stay sane is by immediately going back to his apartment after class and releasing all the pent up frustrations via exceptionally violent porn. He's got a few specifics pages bookmarked now, girls that look just like you getting slapped around and choked and manhandled and skull-fucked and gaped… but it's just not satisfying enough, there's still this lingering irritation, a skin-crawling malice that won't go away.

It's not good enough to imagine. If anything, the post-orgasmic clarity just makes the whole thing feel pathetic — it's not really you, you get to be all happy and safe and sound when it should be you, you should be the one being brutalized and put in your place, you deserve it for being so damn nice. So pleasant and upbeat and kind and what gives you the right?

In the end, once the burning fury becomes too much and no one else is going to do it, the only option is to take matters into his own hands…

#ok but now Im considering my camgirl/onlyf*ns darling but with him... #the thoughts are manifesting and i cannot be held accountable for what may come of them #.sc #.miso

[squeeneypod]

anyway the character that brings out the most fun in elias as a character is basira send tweet

#tma #the magnus archives #she gets overshadowed in this area (as in many) due to fan shipping #but like. shes the clarice #shes the most active in choosing to take his word despite knowing hes fucking with her #jon did it with the anonymous letters but basira did it while secretly visiting him in prison #because he's preying on her need to be Active in a way that jon has but not nearly as much #jon is the guy he chose because he fit the bill basira is the one he calls Detective because he thinks its Fun #melanie is close second because shes actively trying to kill him on a regular basis #but i guess these two in particular things dont allow for comfortable fan shipping for Obvious Reasons and are therefore pushed to the side #for more boring and ooc options

[jinwoosungs]

{ 151 }

enough is enough.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ take me home, don’t shut me out | it’s easier to leave me down here on the ground | take me home, baby i’m fucked up now | i know it’s easier to leave me down here on the ground | ‘cause enough is enough… }

you had gotten into an argument with jinwoo, feeling your insecurities resurface the moment you saw him standing together with cha hae-in in a picture seen within a news article that detailed their latest raid together.

your phone lands against the hardwood floors of your apartment, the article that had jinwoo and hae-in together still seen against your phone’s screen. currently, your eyes blazing with fury as you kept poking a finger against jinwoo’s chest. “why the hell is she always standing next to you like that? you already know i had deep suspicions when it comes to her!”

jinwoo’s eyes were glowing purple in response, yet he keeps his hands balled up into fists, trying to ensure that he would not hurt you while you were in the midst of arguing with him.

“and the fact that she admits to being into you despite knowing your relationship with me just further annoys me! how could you be so comfortable with her proximity?!”

“you’re overreacting again.” jinwoo finally replies through gritted teeth, choosing instead to head to the fridge as he grabbed a bottle of water. you follow him into the kitchen with your arms crossed, frowning as your eyes continued to glare at him, watching him drink his water while trying to gather your thoughts.

despite being with him since he was an e-rank hunter, you felt as though you were losing the confidence to stay by his side with the way he was now-

a powerful and sought after s-rank hunter.

you didn’t know why you got so angry, so anxious, each time hae-in was close to jinwoo. hell, this wasn’t even the first time you blew up. each time the news or rumors began to surface pertaining to how perfect jinwoo and hae-in were together, you felt devastated.

but deep down, you knew it was because she was more fit to remain by his side than you ever could be.

cha hae-in was an s-rank hunter like him. she could fight by his side without any fear-

unlike you, a mere civilian.

not only was she powerful, but she was achingly beautiful as well. with golden hair and stormy, grey eyes, you knew that compared to her, you didn’t stand a chance.

“it’s such a mystery why you’re here with me.” you manage to tell him in a cold tone, willing yourself to cease caring when jinwoo stiffens in response. “in fact, i feel like you loved me more when you were still an e-rank hunter. i may have even preferred that you stay that way. now… you spend most of your days ignoring me, choosing instead to go on raids- i don’t even know you anymore.”

jinwoo’s eyes continued to glow a deeper purple hue in response when he sets aside his half-empty bottle of water, his tone filled with ice when he tells you, “oh yeah, you may be right then. maybe cha hae-in is more suited for me. at least she won’t constantly nag at me like you do.”

red hot anger (and heartwrenching pain) courses through you, forcing your body to act on instinct when you pick up the bottle of water and toss its contents onto jinwoo.

your eyes widen in response to your actions, seeing the way the water drips down his face and against his shirt. you felt a sense of guilt surrounding you, and when you tried to apologize to him, no words would come out.

jinwoo hides his gaze from you, making you uncertain of his true emotions when he takes quick strides away from you. only when he leaves (slamming your front door in response) did you finally slump down against the ground.

you were actively crying on your knees now, your sobs becoming so potent and painful that your chest ached in response. you felt nauseous, feeling the snot dripping down your nose as you allowed yourself to bask in this pain.

uncertain as to how much time had passed, you only stood back up when the ache against your knees became too much to bear. your hiccups echo throughout the now cold and empty apartment, and you harshly wipe away at your dripping nose. you let out a shaky sigh and forlornly speak to yourself, “you’re such a damn mess. there’s no way jinwoo will come back to you now- i’m such an idiot.”

believing that this was the end for you and jinwoo, you figured that enough was enough for him. he could no longer stand your constant questionings and insecurities pertaining to hae-in-

he was probably running into cha hae-in’s arms right now.

and that thought was enough to further break you.

still sobbing to yourself, you drag your feet across the floors. you pick up your phone and settle it on the coffee table, making your way back to your bedroom as you forced yourself to calm down with a shower. tasting the saltiness of your tears against your damp skin, you lick at your chapped lips and turn on the faucet, making it go as hot as it could go.

peeling off your clothes, you step into the shower and wash away your tears. you bask in the comfort of the hot waters, feeling the droplets soothe your aching bones and muscles. as you began to relax, you decided to spoil yourself a bit and cleanse your body with your favorite scented soap and shampoo. you remain in the shower for close to an hour, only stopping when you felt fully refreshed.

as you wrapped your towel around your naked body, you head back into your room to get dressed in your pajamas, ready to turn in for the night while trying not to think about how his side of the bed would be empty.

once you were fully dressed, you realized that your mind was racing too much to really fall asleep. so, you decided to cheer yourself up, instead. heading to your kitchen, you open up the freezer and got out your favorite flavor of ice cream, uncapping the carton while grabbing a shiny silver spoon.

with your ice cream in hand, you settle yourself on the couch and turn on your t.v. to a random channel, not paying attention to what was going on while digging into your ice cream. you knew that you wouldn’t be able to sleep in the same room that still held all of jinwoo’s belongings and already resigned yourself to a sleepless night on the couch.

yet in the midst of your moping, you heard a series of knocks coming from your door.

“sarang, it’s me. please, let me in?”

you drop your ice cream and spoon on the ground, recognizing jinwoo’s voice. the palm of his hand continues to slam against your door as a sense of desperation was heard in his voice.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you jealous. and i didn’t mean what i said about hunter cha being better for me. she’s a mere colleague, and she only likes me for the way i am now.”

“i’ll admit, she is powerful, and many consider her beautiful- but she doesn’t make my heart race like you do. being around her is stifling, since she only sees and knows me as a powerful hunter. i have to act that way around her at all times-

but with you, i can breathe. you have been with me since the beginning. you have seen me at my weakest, and still love me unconditionally. the same could never be said about hunter cha hae-in.”

you felt the tears streaming down your face as jinwoo stopped knocking on your door, seeming to slump against it as you heard a light ‘thump!’ coming from the door.

“it doesn’t matter, even if you leave me all alone out here, i’ll simply sleep on the ground until you forgive me.”

unable to handle the thought of leaving jinwoo alone, you stand and quickly open the door, revealing jinwoo with bloodshot eyes and a tiny smile. in his hands, you saw an extravagant bouquet along with a cute teddy bear in his arms with an ‘i’m sorry’ message written in a neat script on its plush belly.

letting out a happy sob, you wrap your arms around jinwoo’s neck, nearly crushing the bouquet he had bought for you.

“i’m sorry for throwing water at y-you, and telling you i loved you more when you were weaker… i love you regardless of your s-strength…” you tell him with a shaky sigh as your boyfriend returns your hug while letting out a soft chuckle. “it’s okay, i kind of deserved it; and i know that you love me unconditionally, like you always do.”

jinwoo continues to hold you in his arms before continuing to speak, “five minutes after leaving you, i deeply regretted hurting you and cried. i immediately called jinah for some advice… and after berating me and calling me an idiot, she told me to buy you your favorite gifts all while begging you to take me back.”

you giggle and give jinwoo a squeeze, silently thinking of the ways you could treat jinah for helping you and jinwoo make up.

“well, your sister just proved how much smarter she is compared to her oppa.” you giggle before taking the cute teddy bear and bouquet out of his arms, basking in jinwoo’s embrace as he presses a lingering kiss against your hair after he closed the door.

you stay in his embrace and sway against him. “jinwoo?”

“hm?”

you look up at him with a hopeful gaze. “did you mean… everything that you said? that you can breathe and be yourself around me… and not with cha hae-in?”

jinwoo gives you a smile while brushing back your hair. “i meant every word.”

after that single phrase, you felt all of your doubts disappear when he gives you a sweet, but chaste, kiss, feeling him smile against your lips before pulling away from you.

“let me continue making it up to you… how about i make you your favorite food as a late dinner?”

your eyes became alight with happiness with the promise of jinwoo’s cooking, making you follow your beloved boyfriend into the kitchen as he successfully continues to mend your broken heart with his loving actions alone.

a.n. - i finished making my presentations and am ready to present later on for my classes today, so i’m treating myself to writing another jinwoo story for good luck ♡ after all, writing about jinwoo gives me strength 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo #jinwoo sung #.stories

[ghostatas]

BENITO CHARACTER ANYLISIS THING BUT ITS NOT THAT GOOD JUST ALL MY THOUGHTS

FUCK SLEEPING I HAVE TOO MUCH ENERGY AMD THOUGHTS FOR THAT RN. ILL PROBABLY DO LUCIE NEXT IDK.

Can I just start this off by saying how good Quackity is at portraying a character and a storyline? We've seen it since dsmp, then qsmp now opq. He is just so good at it like, props to him.

Now into the juicy stuff. When we are first introduces to benito, he is kinda unlikeable. He is arrogant and cynical, thinks of himself as simply better than others. He says he will choose a soldier over a kid to save himself, and scolded the others for not being honest when they hadn't even answered yet (he was so wrong about himself). He held himself up to a standard and in very high regard.

He is constantly butting heads with Jeffrey, calling him pizza boy like he's demoting him in a way, comparing their statuses as he likes to point out he is a doctor all the time. He divides them. He is above them. Jeffrey is the lowest of the low, and he will never lower himself to that position. Yet at the end of the first episode, he doesn't want Jeffrey to die. He, despite what he says and how he justifies it and calls it research, wanted Amy (Emmi? I'll stick with Amy for now) to live. It was obvious the vials were a cure of some sort, and the papers described how it worked. He didn't need to experiment, but he wanted to save her regardless. He just didn't want to acknowledge it.

He starts to rely on the people around him. Its probably the first time he's done that. He most likely grew up in an unstable, dangerous position, which caused him to grow up into an ambitious, selfish person who didn't hesitate to step on others; or he would be the one stepped on. But now he is in a dangerous position again, however the people around him are actively trying to help eachother and supporting eachother. Benito is not used to this, and doesn't really know how to react, hence all the name calling and acting like his typical arrogant self.  He will, however, eventually think about saving their group, not just himself. He still very much distrusts others (Mikhail, Carla, though those two DEFINATLEY fukin deserved it, I'm totally still not mad about them), but he trusts the people in their circle. His people.

Enter episode 2. Benito wants mikhail DEAD, he will not trust a liar twice. But he's their only source of info, so he goes along reluctantly. Lucie dies.

Lucie dies trying to save Amy. He DESPISES Carla for trying to sabotage Amy. Not only because she tried to kill a kid, but that in turn also gave Lucie a harder time escaping. Benito says he helps Amy after that out of spite. I think it might be a part of it- a few hours won't change his entire personality- but only a part. He cares about Amy. Maybe it's because she's being forced to grow up in a world that wants to kill her all of a sudden. Maybe because she looks pitiful calling our for her dad even though she knows he's dead. Maybe it's because she reminds him of himself, ina way; just a massive ball of spite and anger and determination, all muddled up together. Who knows? What's definite though is that Lucie gave her life to protect this dumb, idiotic child, and letting the kid die would tarnish her legacy. (And isn't that a funny word, one we know Quackity likes).

Amy is Benitos priority. Whenever they're in danger, he's the first to remember her and immediately says "I'm taking her with me". Lets be real, i think we all agree that Carla was an ass for trying to kill her (we got attached to Amy too quickly it happens ik) and Benito was having none of her shit. Benito was trying to save all of them, in his own way. Because he cared, in his own fucked up spiteful way. He wants them safe, because he knows in this unknown world that suddenly got a lot more dangerous and scary, he has people that will care for and protect him and eachother.

When they all escape, benito feels like he has a purpose now. He wants to help people, or at least his family (cuz that's what they are now). He wants to properly learn medicine so he can better help those he cares about (and he cares so, so much). Maybe if he knew how to treat people better, Lucies leg would've been more healed and she couldvr run faster. Maybe they had an easier time escaping. But it's all in the past now, there's no changing that. He can only look to the future, no thinking of what ifs.

For Lucie. For Amy. For himself. For his family. (He'll continue to deny it though, cuz he's an ass. We love him for it.)

If other people want to share stuff or deny shit I say I'm all for it I just need these thoughts OUT, no matter how incoherent they are. Might do some art later too if I can be bothered :D

#ordem paranormal quarentena #opq #benito #benito camelo

[absurdthirst]

Family Feud {Dave York x F!Smith!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.9k

Warnings: Organized crime, guns, violence, drugging, kidnapping, oral sex (male and female receiving), loss of virginity, recording sex with out permission, fingering, domestic violence, threats, murder

Comments: You are a Smith, he is a York, pitted enemies in a turf war between your crime families. A meeting at the infamous neutral territory, The Lounge, ends up with Dave kidnapping you as a blow to the Smith family. Plotting to keep you until you give him something that would be priceless. Your virginity. 

A/N: While the reader does have a last name, there is no description for the reader. 

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The kind of wet work that went into the shading dealings of his family wasn’t for everyone. There were few that could kill a man with a baseball bat to the head and calmly go kiss their mother before cleaning up for the weekly family dinner. Dave York had been born for it. Only son of the powerful leader of the York crime family, he had killed his first man at fourteen. The blank stare in his dark eyes reported to shake a man to his core, rightly earned with the blood that stained his hands. Groomed to take over as the leader of family, associates and loyal men. To continue the turf war with their bitter enemies, the Smiths. 

You are the only daughter of Lewis Smith, raised to take over one day despite your cousin’s desire to be the head of the family. He doesn’t think you’re strong enough, but that’s typical. Most men underestimate you, they think of you as some weak, delicate flower, and not the stone cold killer that you are. You don’t plan to have a turf war when you take over. No, you plan to end it. You plan to kill Dave York before he can kill you.

“She’s gonna be there tonight?” Dave leans back in his chair and smirks at Resnick. His man was fucking your friend, not that she knew he had anything to do with the York family. Turning over valuable information on you during pillow talk, not even realizing she was giving it away. 

“Yeah, boss. Her and my girl and a few others.” Resnick nods and Dave sighs. 

“We can’t shoot up The Lounge, so we will be going in without the guns.” The Lounge was one of the few places in the city that was off limits to mafia activities. Coppola was a big, beefy, barrel chested man who had resisted joining a side during the street war in ‘82. As a result, both families respected his rules of no guns or no drama in his club. “The Ice Princess is coming out of her shell to play, huh?” Dave muses thoughtfully. It was rumored you were a virgin, but he had always taken you for a stuck up bitch. “Tell the boys to get ready.” He decides. “We’re going to the club tonight.”

You sit at your usual booth, sipping the dirty martini in your hand, when he walks in. “What the fuck is he doing here?” You growl to your friend, leaning over to look at her before you turn your gaze back to Dave York as he cockily strides through the club. “He’s handsome.” Your friend chuckles, and you scoff, “and he knows it.”

Dave sees you, even though he pretends not to. Instead he sits at a table that is front and center of everyone and orders drinks for the entire entourage he has with him. Waiting until he has a drink before he looks over at your table and smirks, raising his own glass and winking at you.

You narrow your eyes at him, his cocky smirk making you even more determined to kill him. “He’s an asshole. Thinking he owns this town because his daddy lets him kill or fuck whoever he wants.” You scoff, sipping your drink. You’ve heard the rumors, hearing about the women he’s taken to his apartment uptown. You’ve also heard the horrors of him killing a man just for looking at him the wrong way. That doesn’t sit right with you. You may be a killer, but you only kill people who have wronged you, who are beyond redemption. Hence your nickname, “The Angel of Death.”

“Look at her.” Dave ignores the petulance in Ari’s tone, too busy keeping his eye on you. “She’s sitting there like she owns the joint.” 

Dave just smirks, enjoying the obvious ire you are directing towards him. “She does own half the city.” He reminds his friend. “The part I don’t have…yet.” He motions the waitress over and his eyes linger on her breasts on display. “Send the pretty lady over there another one of her dirty martinis.” He orders her, handing her a one hundred dollar tip and patting her on the ass as she turns to do what he wants. 

You look up when the cocktail waitress brings you another martini. “I didn’t order this.” You frown, shaking your head. “Compliments of the man sitting in the VIP area across the room.” She says nervously, and you glance over to see Dave smirking and raising his glass once more. “Send it back to him and tell him I don’t accept drinks from men below six feet.” You smirk when she walks away, unsure of what to do. You want to get under Dave’s skin, want to make him angry. Anger is good. Men make mistakes when they are angry.

Dave stares at the waitress when she hands him the cocktail and passes along the message. Unable to believe that you had the balls to tell her to say that. Instead of getting angry, Dave starts laughing. His head tilts back and his bark of amusement fills his section, making the waitress sag in relief that he isn’t angry. Instead he laughs until he can’t and then he lifts the drink in your direction before he tosses back the dirty martini he had bought for you.

You watch him down the drink, and you huff. A little annoyed that he seems unfazed by your insult. He’s obnoxious and cocky, two things you hate in a man. “He’s gonna be dead before the end of the year.” You murmur, making a promise to yourself. You stand up, ignoring the protests from your friends as you stride over to Dave York and his cohorts. “I appreciate the drink, York, but I’m not one of your whores who can be won over with a stupid martini. I’m surprised you’re allowed in here after your behavior last time.” You cross your arms, looking down at your enemy as you remember the way he basically fucked one of his harem against the bar.

“Never called you a whore, princess.” Dave looks up at you and ignores the way that his cock twitches at you in that dress. “I provided entertainment that night.” He smirks, swiping at his lower lip with his thumb. “Now, be a good girl and sit down and I’ll buy you another.” He motions to Kovac to move over and make a space for you next to him. “You know you want to.”

You want to step away from him, go back to your section, but you know that’s what he wants, to make you run away from him. So you accept, shifting to sit down beside him. “First of all, I’m not a good girl. I’m your worst fucking nightmare. Second, I’ll get my own drinks. And third, I’m not a princess.” You scoff, glancing around the club to see everyone is watching you, shocked that you are sitting beside Dave.

“Sure you are.” Dave murmurs easily, leaning over and slinging his arm around the back of the half booth, motioning for the cocktail waitress again. “Princess of the Smith family, ice princess, whatever you want to claim.” He looks at you when the woman saunters over. 

“What can I get for you, Mr. York?” She purrs. 

“Ladies first.” He offers.

You smile at the cocktail waitress, “I’ll have a bottle of Dom Perignon. Ice cold. One glass. And I’ve changed my mind…put it on Mr. York’s tab.” You smirk, leaning back into Dave’s arm and you bite your lip when his fingers brush your bare shoulder. You hate that he’s so fucking handsome.

Dave smirks at your moxy, nodding slightly when the cocktail waitress’s eyes round in surprise. “Another glass of Remy.” He tells her, holding out another hundred to her. She turns and rushes off to get the bottle and his drink while Dave turns to you, focusing completely on you. “What brought you out tonight, princess?” He asks, leaning in unnecessarily close because the noise wasn’t that loud. “Just wanted to have some fun?”

You decide that maybe the best course of action is to play along in his little game, make him feel big and important before you shoot him down. Literally. You turn to look at him, your face close to his. “I’m all about fun.” You lick your bitten lip, your eyes meeting his dark gaze. “I don’t think you can provide the kind of fun I’m looking for though.”

You are up to something. You’ve never acted like this before and it’s not as if you don’t know who he is. Instead of calling you on your bullshit, he gives you a smirk. “All depends on what you want, sweetheart. I’m sure I could. I’m willing to try anything once.”

You falter for a second, slightly taken back that he isn’t calling you out since all you’ve done is be cold and rude to him. The waitress comes over, setting down your drinks and she pours you the glass of champagne after you taste it. You lean closer, almost kissing him, when you say, “how about going and fucking dying in a ditch, you piece of shit?” You spit, leaning back as you toss your drink in his face. You stand up, grabbing the bottle and you quickly make your way back to your section where your friends are staring at you in shock.

The expensive champagne drips down his face, making his scowl. Still, he shakes his head when Ari immediately jumps up, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his face. “I don’t think she likes my company.” He tells his men quietly, all of them well aware of Dave York when he is soft spoken. The quieter he is, the worse it will be for his victim. “Too bad she won’t have a choice in the matter soon.” He looks over at Kovac. “Get the car pulled around back.”

“You did really just do that? Oh damn. Your daddy is gonna be pissed. You know he’s been trying to keep the peace recently.” Your friend gasps, and you scoff, reaching for your clutch. “I don’t care. My daddy needs to grow some balls and stop letting the York family walk all over us. I’m gonna fucking kill him and take back the rest of the city. Just watch. But first, I gotta pee.” You tell them, striding back through the club, feeling Dave’s eyes on you but you ignore him, and make your way to the bathroom.

He watches you for a moment, disappearing down the hall and then looks over at Ari. “Pay the tab, meet me near the back door.” He orders his man, eyes narrowed in fury. “The princess fucked up tonight. Now she’s got to suffer the consequences.” He stands and strides towards the bathrooms, ready to confront you.

You are reapplying your lipstick when the door to the bathroom opens and Dave walks in. “This is the womens bathroom, asshole.” You scoff, continuing to apply the lipstick. 

“Oh I know. You misbehaved tonight princess. We can’t have you causing a scene like that in front of people. They are gonna think I’ve gone soft.” Dave says darkly. You snort, turning to back him. 

“I doubt that could ever happen. If my heart is made of ice, yours is made of stone.” You turn back around, checking your makeup, when he strides forward to press the handkerchief to your mouth. You struggle, trying to get away but his arm wraps around your waist to keep you close. You try to hold your breath but it’s not use, your eyes roll into the back of your head, and you slump against Dave.

There are people who see him, hard not to see someone carry a grown woman out of a bathroom and down the hall. However, no one makes a move to stop him. Through the door that Ari opens and out into the dark back alley where Kovac is waiting. With the car. Depositing you into the back seat, Dave climbs in beside you and shuts the door while the other man gets into the passenger seat. 

“We aren’t taking her to the house.” Dave announces, looking over at where you are slumped against the doorframe of the car. “Drive to my loft.” His loft was off the family books, purchased without the stigma of his name on it, unknown by the Smiths, or even his father. No one would disturb him there.

You groan, head pounding, and you struggle to open your eyes. Dazed and confused, you blink slowly, wincing at the bright light when you finally open your eyes. Your brow furrows as you glance around the room - a sleek modern bedroom - and you try to figure out where the fuck you are and what happened. Shifting off of the bed, you are stopped by the shackles around your wrists, and you start to panic. It hits you. Dave. The motherfucker chloroformed you. “York. You fucking bastard! Where are you?” You shriek, tugging on the restraints.

“Oh the princess is awake.” Dave opens the door, smirking at where you are quite literally chained to his bed. Ignoring the obvious implications of why he had restrained you there, he’s smug as he walks over. “Did you have a good nap? You were tired.” He coos condescendingly. “Fell asleep in the bathroom, of all places. You should really watch how much you drink. Maybe it was good you threw that drink in my face.” The last sentence is hissed in anger, eyes darkening as he glares at you, letting you know that slight was not forgotten.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re such a dick. Let me out of these fucking restraints.” You growl and Dave tuts, shaking his head. 

“You know I can’t do that. You’d kill me within minutes.” Dave sits down on the edge of the bed and you try to grab him but the restraints pull your arms back. 

“I’m going to kill you. You drugged me. You need to let me go otherwise my father will be after your head. He will know it’s you who’s taken me. Just let me go and maybe I can smooth things over with him so you don’t lose your head within the next twelve hours.” You try to reason, knowing that Dave can be reasonable when it’s in his interest.

“Do you honestly think you have the upper hand, princess?” Dave chuckles and shakes his head. “No one knows where you are. This place isn’t known by your family.” He arches a brow at you. “I found the knife strapped to your thigh. Tell me you weren’t going to slide it between my ribs?” He shakes his head in amusement and winks at you. “Relax and enjoy yourself. You're my guest.”

You growl at him, "fuck you York. You haven't got the balls to face me like a man, thinking you're big by restraining a woman. Scared of little ole me?" You chuckle mockingly. 

Dave nods, looking at you, "of course I am princess. You'd kill me as soon as I let you go. I'm not dumb. Your reputation is infamous." He offers you a compliment that takes you back. His smile falls, eyes narrowing slightly to show you that coldness he's known for. "Be a good girl, and you might get some dinner." He coos, standing up from the bed. 

"Fuck you." You spit, not willing to just give up. You will escape and then you're going to kill Dave York.

Dave chuckles again and shakes his head. If you weren’t a Smith….he breaks off that train of thought with a smirk. Deciding how he was going to both get you back for your insult and deal your father an upsetting loss. “I’ll leave you to get comfortable, enjoy the bed. Mattress is far more comfortable than a chair.”

As soon as he exits the room, you start to figure out how to get out of this place. Biting your lip, you smirk when you remember the Bobby pins in your hair. Reaching up, you take one out, stretch it out, and work on picking the locks. When you hear a click, you grin in victory, and quickly work on the other one. Once you’re free, you scramble off of the bed, glad for your bare feet, as you tiptoe through the loft. 

You can hear Dave’s henchmen talking in the kitchen, and you hold your breath as you walk past the kitchen and down the hall. You glance around for cameras or a security system, and see none nearby, so you open the door that leads to the trash cute and fire exit. Once the door softly closes, you begin running down the stairs, heart pounding as you try to run as fast as possible to get down to the bottom floor.

He hears the door clink, not in the kitchen with the others. Instead, he had been setting up one of the rooms to use as his own when he had heard it. Rushing out and out the door to follow you. It had to be you. Anyone else would have told him that they were leaving. He hears your panicked feet on the stairs. Huffing to himself, he hops over the side and lets himself fall down the stairwell a few sets before he lands on the landing you are coming down. “Where are you going, princess? Leaving so soon?” He smirks. 

You falter, not expecting him to basically jump a few flights of stairs. You can't give up now, so you surge forward, pushing on his chest as you try to run past him, but he grabs your waist and pulls you against your body, restraining your arms. "Let me go, York. Fuck- fucking let me go." You try to kick yourself free but he's stronger. "I won't have you killed if you let me go now." You lie.

“Sure you wouldn’t.” Dave tuts, shaking his head at you. “It’s not like you wouldn’t scratch my eyes out right now, if you could.” He turns and starts dragging you back up the stairs towards the apartment. “Come on princess, or I’ll strip you down right here to make sure you don’t have anything else that you can use to escape on you.” He threatens with a leering look. 

You hiss, trying to kick yourself free one last time before he drags you up the stairs, despite you screaming curses at him that echo off of the concrete walls, alerting no one of your presence. "Strip." Dave orders when you stumble in the bedroom you escaped from. 

"Excuse me?" You scoff, crossing your arms. 

"Strip. I don't fucking trust you in here alone now. Strip." He repeats, and you snort, refusing to follow his order. He withdraws the gun he has tucked into his jeans, aiming it after clicking the safety. 

You stare him down, unafraid of the gun. You stride closer to him, pressing the gun to your temple in defiance, "I won't strip for you."

“Fine.” Dave is actually enjoying the push back you give him. It’s rare to have a woman challenge him as much as you do. Most want to appease him however they could, from getting his drinks to sucking his cock. You are a delightful change from that. He pulls a switchblade from his pocket and flicks it open, shoving his gun back into his jeans and smirks. “Let’s see what you're wearing under that dress.”

You know there’s no use figuring against him. You keep your head held high as he cuts the silk material of your dress, and when you’re in your underwear, you look him straight in the eye. “Happy now?” You growl, feeling exposed but you’re angrier more than you’re anxious.

His cock twitches at the sexy lingerie underneath but he looks up at you with dispassionate eyes. Anyone would think he was looking at a boring ledger. “No.” He motions to the undergarments. “All of them, I’m not going to have you poking my eye out with your underwire.” He huffs, staring at you when you don’t move. “Take it off - all of it, or I'll cut it off you.” He growls.  

You narrow your eyes at him, "you're a fucking asshole." You huff as you reach behind you to unclasp your bra. You shove it at him before you cover your tits with one arm, shoving your panties down until you can kick them away from you, crossing your legs to try and conceal yourself.

“Don’t flatter yourself, princess.” He chuckles, just to get under your skin. “I’ve seen plenty of women naked and I like my women willing.” There are a lot of lines he would cross, but in order for this to be the knife in the back to your father, you needed to want him. “Get under the covers if you get cold.” He orders you, swiping up your clothes and turning around to walk out of the room, not binding you to the bed this time. 

You immediately shift to slide under the covers, tears in your eyes when you realize you won’t be escaping any time soon. Dave will slip up, and you’ll be able to leave. You sob, covering your face with the pillow, until you pass out from exhaustion. Who knows what Dave has planned for you? All you know is that you don’t want to find out. It’s a few hours later when you wake up, unsure of the time of day without any windows in the room, and you get out of the bed. 

You take off the sheet, tying it around your neck and waist to make a DIY dress, and that’s when you get angry. You grab the pillows, slamming them against the wall as you scream. Desperate to get out of this damn room. You tried the door earlier and it’s locked. With no way to pick it, you can only take out your frustration on the furniture. Tossing the nightstands over, you grab the lamp and throw it until it hits the small tv on the dresser. “Fuck you York!” You shout, chest heaving as your heart pounds.

The key rattles in the lock and Dave sweeps into the room, changed into sweats and t-shirt. “Temper, temper, princess.” He coos, looking around the room with a frown and he shakes his head when he sees the shattered tv. “Feel better now that you’ve gotten it out of your system? Or are you hangry? Chloroforme is a nasty bitch of a hangover. You want to eat and take some aspirin?” He offers, lifting a brow at you. “I’ll even take a couple of them myself so you know they aren’t poisoned.”

You turn to look at him, striding towards him, and you raise your arms to punch his chest. He grabs your wrists, and you sob, collapsing against him, “fu-fuck you.” You choke, feeling helpless. You are used to being in control, to be the strong woman you are, but he’s worn you down within hours.

Dave holds you close, remorse for your seeming tears surprising him but he honestly knows it might be a trick. “Come on, you’ll be ready to stab me again after you have some dinner and take some medication.” He coos softly, rubbing your wrists gently. “I made some soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.” He offers. “Perfect for that nasty headache you are sporting.”

You nod, defeated when your stomach growls, and you step away from him, jerking your wrists out of his slackened grip. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, "I'm not hungry." You lie, trying to remain stubborn after your display of emotion.

“Okay.” Dave agrees easily, turning around to walk towards the tv to unplug it and carry it out of the room. “The boys have left, every door in the apartment is locked. You can come out to eat when you feel like it.” He offers as he walks out. 

You watch him walk away, carrying the broken TV, and you sink to your knees, tears in your eyes once more. “Fuck.” You groan, rubbing your sore head, and you know that you won’t be escaping tonight. You’ll need your strength and your wits to escape this hellhole. You stand up, making your way out of the bedroom to the rest of the loft, frowning at how pristine and modern it is. “This isn’t listed as one of your places.” You announce as you walk into the kitchen to find Dave sitting at the kitchen table.

“I know.” He looks up and watches you looking around before walking over to the table. He opens the aspirin bottle, removing the brand new seal and shakes out to tablets before tossing them into his mouth and reaches across the table to pick up your glass of water and takes a sip of it. “It’s not a York family property” He tells you. “It’s mine.”

You hesitantly sit down, taking the two pills he offers you, and you take the cup from him, downing it as you are desperate to get rid of your headache. He stands up, refilling the glass, and setting it down in front of you. "Why do you have your own property? This where you bring your whores?" You snort, looking down at the sandwich in front of you, and your stomach growls.

Dave chuckles and shakes his head. “No, it’s not where I ‘bring my whores’.” He quotes, taking the bowl of soup out of the microwave where it was keeping warm and bringing it over to you. “You are the first woman here.” He admits. “This is my space. Away from family. Away from..expectations.” He frowns after he reveals that little bit and sets the bowl beside your plate.

You frown, understanding that more than anyone else. You have a lot riding on your shoulders as the only child of the Smith family. You have no living uncles, no brothers. You are the one to take over the grueling, sometimes cruel job of controlling the territory your ancestors fought for. "I- I get that." You murmur, "I guess that's why I hate you. Although...I don't even really have a reason. This is the most we have talked outside of our fathers' negotiations. Mind you, kidnapping me gives me a good reason to hate you." You murmur, picking up the grilled cheese.

“Well, I don’t hit women and you did throw a drink in my face after telling me to die in a ditch.” He reminds you, smirking slightly at the fire in your eyes when you had doused him with a forty dollar glass of champagne. “If you wanted me to have a sip, you should have poured it on your body and I would have happily slurped it down.” He jokes. 

You hate that you shiver at the thought, and not in disgust. You scoff, “as if I’d ever let you slurp any kind of alcohol off of my body.” You bite into the sandwich, unable to stop your moan as you realize how hungry you are. You see Dave watching you, and you sigh. “I- I know we have had our disagreements but I do want to reiterate that I think you’re an asshole. But you’re an asshole who makes a good grilled cheese.”

He grins, a bright flash that makes him look younger. “You’ll find that I’m good at a lot of things.” He tells you, sitting back down in front of you and picking up his own sandwich to duck into his soup. “Except for family dinners, I cook a lot of my own food.” He tells you, wondering if you do the same or if you are the princess you seem to be.

You hum, trying to conceal your surprise. “I love cooking. I wish I could do it more often. I- I love baking most of all.” You confess, picking up your spoon to dig into the soup. You are annoyed that you revealed that detail about yourself. You don’t want him to know anything. “Am i going to be given some clothes?”

“It’s a very fashionable dress you are wearing now.” Dave jokes, nodding towards the sheet. “If I give you clothes, will you try to escape again?” He asks. “Good behavior gets you what you want, within reason.” He amends, knowing you would demand to be let go. 

You set the spoon down, looking at Dave with raised eyebrows. “What does good behavior entail?” You cross your arms, “I’m not going to suck your cock for a fucking t-shirt. I’d rather be naked.”

“And have you try to bite my dick off? No thanks.” Dave shakes his head. “Rules are simple, princess. Don’t try to run away, don’t try to kill me in my sleep.” He flashes you a cold smile. “Easy, right?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Or you could just let go.” It’s Dave’s turn to snort. 

“And have your clan come down on me the next morning? I don’t think so.” You huff, “why are you keeping me here? Why’d you want to spend time with a woman you hate?” You ask, curious and confused.

Dave tilts his head to the side and contemplates you. “I’ve never said I hated you.” He reminds you. “That forked tongue of yours never fails to try to filet me. But I believe I bought you a drink and then a bottle.” He sighs. “I might be a York and you might be a Smith, but we aren’t our fathers. We don’t have to hate each other.”

Frowning, you absorb his words. He’s not wrong. You suppose your dislike of him is an inherited feud. “We don’t have to hate each other. Maybe…maybe things could be different.” You muse before you look at Dave. You laugh after a long pause, realizing it’s unlikely. You’re destined to hate him…but why is he making it harder to do just that?

Annoyance flashes through his entire system but he keeps his jaw unclenched. He’s killed men for laughing at him, and you have him furious at your refusal of the idea of not continuing the tradition of killing each other indiscriminately. “Guess you’re right.” He hums, taking another bite of his sandwich. “Might as well just put a bullet in that pretty little head of yours. Rather than taking a few days and getting to know you beyond your name, princess.” 

“It’s what you’re gonna do eventually. Might as well get it over with now. Although, I wouldn’t fancy your chances once you leave this fancy loft. My dad and his men will hunt you down like a dog and will kill you. Slowly, agonizingly. You think I’m worth being skinned alive?” You raise your eyebrows at Dave. “Or you could let me go now and I won’t come after you.” You lie, knowing you’d be ready for blood after he’s fucking kidnapped you.

Leaning back in his chair, he stares at you with cold eyes for a long moment before he tuts in disappointment. “You think you can scare me, princess?” He smirks, dangerous and dark before he picks up his fork, the one that he didn’t allow you to have. “Do you know what I did to the last man that threw a drink on me?” He asks quietly. “I used a fork, one from some shithole little restaurant downtown. Did you know it only takes the slightest pressure to puncture an eyeball? Have you ever seen the contents ooze down someone’s face? Or see them stabbed so many times they look like a piece of meat that a tenderizer has been taken to it? I have.” 

You stare at him, jaw clenched despite the way you swallow at his words, stomach twisting. “I’m not afraid of you, York. I’ve seen worse. I’ve done worse. Neither of us would be even considered to enter heaven. I’ve accepted my fate. I’m not an angel. I’m your fucking worst nightmare. Your angel of death, come to take you down to the lowest parts of hell with me. I’ll make sure you die for kidnapping me. I’ll take everything you own.” You continue your brave act, leaning over the table to wrap your lips around his fork, sucking on it for a second before you look up at him.

He’s had women on their knees, his cock down their throat, affect him less than your little display. His cock twitches and starts to harden as he imagines how fiery you would be in bed. How you would fight him for control, even if it was something you wanted. Or, more intriguing, let him have control and use you. Giving up your power and letting yourself go, putting yourself in his hands. “Then I guess I better lock you in your room tonight.” Dave growls, pulling his fork out of your mouth and standing quickly. “Dinner’s over.” 

You smirk, knowing you’ve gotten to him, and you giggle as he grabs your arm to drag you down the hall to your bedroom. Feathers still cover the floor from the torn pillows, glass still scattered around, but you don’t care when he shoves you onto the mattress. He looks at you with those dark eyes and for a brief second, you imagine him looking at you like that as he fucks you. You know he’d ruin you. Whether it would be in a good or bad way, you’re still deciding. 

You giggle when he growls again, clearly frustrated by your apparent lack of fear. “Goodnight David. Sweet fucking dreams.” You coo mockingly, loving when he slams the door in his annoyance. When the lock clinks, you slump, realizing you’ve fucked up again. “Shit.” You hiss, realizing you should maybe try and make him like you, to let you go voluntarily. Tomorrow, you’ll have Dave begging at your feet to fuck you. Then you can escape before you have to touch him.

“Fuck.” Dave groans, the hot water beating down on his skin while he pumps his cock. Imagining you under him. He had thought this was going to be easy but the pushback you are giving him is just spiking his blood. He knows you are fucking with him and it pisses him off even more. Twisting his wrist as he thinks of you whining and begging him to fuck you harder. Digging your fingernails into his skin while he thrusts into you over and over until you are screaming his name. “Bitch.” He hisses, trying to get control of himself but it’s no use. HIs balls draw up against his body and he switches to short, hard pumps of his cock while spurts of his seed cover the shower walls. Groaning as he works himself through it and sighing when he’s spent. “Get it together, York.” He huffs, turning the shower nozzle to wash the cum down the drain. “She’d rather kill you than fuck you.” He reminds himself while thinking about the ways to get on your good side. Maybe he would get some baking supplies for you, if you could behave yourself. 

The next morning, you wake up, sitting up quickly when you realize where you are, and you touch yourself to see your makeshift dress is still in place, no one had come in to see you overnight. You swallow, your throat dry, and you are desperate for some water. Shuffling out of the bed, you walk over to the door to bang on it. “Hey! I need to pee! I need water!” You shout, trying to get someone’s attention. You continue banging, unable to hear the clinking of the lock, and you stumble back when you see Dave standing on the threshold. “Well good morning handsome. Got any forks handy?” You tease, stepping closer to him until you are pressed against his chest. You had thought about how to get out of here, and you figure your only way is to make him want you.

“Fresh out.” Dave lifts a brow at your change in behavior, not trusting it for a moment. You are up to something. He grabs your arm and yanks you out of the room to start dragging you towards the bathroom he had cleared of every potential weapon. The only things that were in there were a towel, a washcloth, a bar of soap, a kids toothbrush, toothpaste and a roll of toilet paper. He opens the door and pushes you in there. “Piss, shower, brush your teeth.” He orders you. “If you don’t, you’ll go back into the room and you can piss in a corner.” 

You huff, watching him slam the door shut, and you walk over to lock it. Turning on the shower, you glance around at the window, walking over to it, you try to open the lock, but it’s sealed shut. Almost like someone glued it. Huffing in annoyance, you pee before you strip off the bed sheet and step into the shower, groaning at the hot water. You wash your hair, taking extra time in the shower so you can gather your thoughts, before you reluctantly get out when the water turns cold. You brush your teeth and you huff when you don’t find a hairbrush. Unlocking the door, you open it, and exhale sharply when you see Dave standing in the hallway. You keep the towel wrapped around you, as you step out and walk towards him. “Do you have a hairbrush?” You ask innocently, biting your lip as you look at him, crossing your arms to emphasize your cleavage.

He ignores the way you are trying to draw his eyes to your chest. “Are you going to try to cut out my spleen with it?” He demands, but you just giggle and shake your head. He rolls his eyes and huffs. “I’ll get you one, but the second you try something….” He leaves it open for your interpretation as he turns to get a brush from his room. 

You take the brush from his hand when he comes back, and he grabs your arm, not as hard as before, to drag you back to your bedroom. You set the brush down on the dresser, and turn back towards Dave as he stands on the threshold. You smirk, reaching up to untie the towel and letting it drop to the floor.

You don’t really want him to see your body. That fact alone keeps his eyes steady on yours instead of roaming over the skin that you are now displaying. Jerking off had made him realize that he wanted you to want him. He wouldn’t be satisfied with anything else. “I’ll get you a shirt to wear so I can wash your sheet.” He tells you, turning back around and leaving you alone in the room. 

You frown, watching him walk off, and you wonder if he doesn’t want to fuck you. You’re a little relieved at that fact. You don’t want to lose your virginity to Dave York of all men. You watch him come back into the room, eyes closed as he holds out a t-shirt and some boxers. You presume they are his but you don’t know for sure as you put them on. “Can I- I’m hungry.” You murmur, reaching for the hairbrush.

Dave nods, opening his eyes and watching you brush your hair out as gently as possible. “I’m not going to starve you.” He tells you before looking around the destroyed bedroom with a roll of his eyes. He will have to get it cleaned up and bring in some pillows for you. “I’ve got breakfast ready but I’ve also got some baking supplies if you want to see what you can make with it.” He shuffles slightly, confused at why he feels nervous about that. “Give you something to do.” 

You turn to look at him in surprise. “You- you got me baking supplies?” You ask, tilting your head. He nods, biting his lip, and you are shocked. You wonder if he’s doing this to lull you into a false sense of security before he kills you. Still, you have nothing else to do, so you finish brushing your hair, and you follow him into the kitchen to find bacon, eggs, pancakes, and coffee waiting for you. “You- you made all this for me?” You ask Dave, confused by his actions.

“Surprised a York could care about someone’s comfort?” He asks sarcastically, embarrassed by how much effort he had put in. “Never want you to say that I treated you poorly.” He picks up his own coffee cup and takes a sip. 

You sit down, picking up your coffee cup. “You act like I’m going to be leaving here alive.” You raise your eyebrows, aware that he plans to kill you. No doubt to ensure the territory you will inherit upon your father’s death, which you don’t doubt would come too long after yours. Dave doesn’t respond and you tuck into the food, unconcerned with being poisoned. You know he’s not going to kill you like that. It’s not his style. You groan at the syrupy pancakes, pleased to be eating something. You see Dave’s grip on his coffee cup tighten a little, and you smirk, deciding to moan again. You reach down to swipe your finger through the maple syrup, sucking it off of your fingertip.

“Maybe you will be.” Dave hadn’t really thought that far ahead, just thinking about the way that he could get at your old man. He leans against the counter and just watches you eat. “That depends on you, princess.” 

You snort, unable to believe he said that when he seems to be immune to your charms. Part of you is relieved he doesn’t want to fuck you. Another part of you is annoyed. Are you not good enough for him? You finish eating, and look at Dave as he refills your coffee. “What do I have to do to get out of here alive?” You ask, standing up from the seat, you walk around the table to Dave, standing in front of him. “Tell me what you want.” You demand, having had enough of his games. If he wants to fuck you, you’d rather he just tells you.

“Get to know me.” He tells you, arching a brow in challenge. “Not the York family heir. Me, Dave.” He cocks his head to the side and gives a small shrug. “Beyond the fact that I can ruthlessly kill someone and not feel a moment of remorse.” He smirks and takes another sip of his coffee. “I’m not an unreasonable man after all.” He’s getting under your skin, he can see the confusion in your eyes on why he is not making a move on you. 

You look at him, trying to figure out if he’s playing you. When you see nothing but truth in his dark gaze, you nod. “Fine. You can help me bake a cake.” You tell him, knowing he won’t want to spend time baking, and you want to see his frustration, to see him get angry. To be the Dave York you know and hate. 

“Fine.” He nods, standing up to clean up the plates from breakfast. You are soon setting out the ingredients you need, watching him as he picks up the bag of flour. “Can’t you just buy a cake mix?” He asks. 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “It doesn’t taste the same. It’s better when you make everything from scratch.”

Dave shrugs his shoulders and hovers, interested in how you are going to put everything together. While Dave cooks, he doesn’t bake, never having the urge when there are so many bakeries around the city if he gets a sweet tooth. “Why baking?” He asks, curious to know why you enjoy this especially. “What’s the appeal?” 

You measure out the sugar before you look at him. "It's methodical. Precise measurements create good bakes. You can wing it but then it would be a mess. I like the predictability in my otherwise chaotic life. I can zone out and concentrate on that and only that. It's...relaxing. Plus the way to a man's heart is through his stomach." You joke, turning back to grab the butter.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “True enough.” He will admit. “I’m sure you can poison a man easily if you put enough buttercream on it.” He jokes, imagining you giving you victims a sugary sweet death. 

You offer him a grin, "you guessed it. Although, there's nothing more satisfying than seeing their face when you stab them in the heart and they realize you aren't going to suck their cock like they imagined when they took you home." You giggle, measuring the butter. "Can you get me two eggs?" You ask Dave, noticing the slightly dazed look on his face. "Eggs?" You repeat. Reaching up, you throw flour on his cheek to get his attention.

He huffs, resisting the urge to demand to know why you kept throwing shit in his face. Instead he turns back to the fridge to get the eggs. “Poor fuckers.” He comments. “Just wanting a blowjob and they get wacked.” He shakes his head and brings the eggs over to you. “I don’t try to fuck them, just kill them.” 

You take the eggs, cracking them into the bowl, and you toss the shells in the trash. "I'm a flirt. What can I say? I am underestimated all the time, and I need to use my assets to do what I need to do. Most men wouldn't dream that I could slit their throat and walk away without a drop of blood on my dress. They think I am some ditzy spoiled brat with no brain cells that's gonna let them use my body for their pleasure. Probably why I'm a virgin. Haven't found a man worthy of fucking me." You chuckle, grabbing the electric whisk after adding in the baking powder, and vanilla essence.

“It’s different for me.” He acknowledges. “Women know I’ll kill, apparently it’s part of my appeal.” He watches you carefully, not to make sure you weren’t poisoning it, but because he was interested. “Except they are so eager to pleasure it makes for a boring fuck.” He rolls his shoulders back. “Not once have I had a woman grab my hair and demand I eat her cunt. Moxy is sexy. Because I’d do it, and then I’d wrap my hand around her pretty little neck and remind her who’s fucking her.” 

You can't deny the way your cunt clenches around nothing at the thought of being able to control Dave, to make him do what you want, before he reminds you of who's really in charge. The battle for power would be drawn out, resulting in painful pleasure that has your heart racing at the thought. Then you shake your head, reminding yourself about who he is. Who his family is. "What about a woman who demands you get down on your knees for her, demands you suck her clit until she cums? Or maybe a woman who pleasures you but controls it. Edges you until you scream with frustration? Is that what you are looking for?" You ask him as you turn towards him, your voice lowering slightly. Part of you wants to find his weaknesses, the other part of you is genuinely intrigued.

He shrugs slightly, trying not to show that he’s extremely interested in that dynamic. Of all the women he knows, you would be the one to do that. “I don’t know.” He grunts. “Never met a woman who made me want to give them control.” He admits, eyes fixed on you. “One that could possibly fit the bill but she’d probably gut me rather than fuck me.” 

You look into those dark eyes, unable to stop yourself from leaning a little closer. It's tempting, the thought of controlling this strong killer, making him beg you to cum. The oven beeps from its preheat and you blink, breaking the spell as you pull away from him. "Like you'd want a virgin." You scoff, continuing to mix the cake batter.

Blinking at your back for a moment he chuckles darkly. “Princess, you don’t know what I would want.” He tells you with a smirk. “For all you know I love taking virgins and breaking them in. Teaching them how to take a cock and cum all over it. Having them squirming and begging for it while I tease them. Watch their face when I really start hammering into them and pushing up against their g-spot to see if they are a squirter.” 

You swallow at his words, shaking slightly at the shiver that runs through you. You pour the batter into the cake tins after greasing them, and you turn to look at Dave. "And if that one that fits the bill would rather fuck you right now than gut you?" You ask breathlessly, unable to deny that you want him to fuck you. It's a bitter pill to swallow but you can't ignore the lust that surges through you.

“I wouldn’t trust it.” Dave admits. “No one runs as hot and cold as you do unless you are trying to get me to lower my defenses.” He narrows his eyes at you as he speaks. “You were threatening to kill me hours ago and now you want me to fuck you? Princess, I wasn’t born yesterday.” 

You flinch back at his words, annoyed that he thinks that after you’ve put yourself out there, given him the slightest chance, and he’s thrown it back in your face. “As if I’d want you to be the one to take my virginity anyway, York.” You murmur, trying to conceal your embarrassment as you walk over to put the cake tins in the oven, bending down to put them in before you shut the door and set the timer. “What kind of buttercream do you want?” You ask softly, trying to stop the tears in your eyes at his rejection.

Dave realizes you might have been serious. Your back is ramrod straight and your voice has a vulnerable quality to it. “Whatever you choose.” He tells you, wishing that he hadn’t spoken before he really thought about it. “You are in charge of this production right now.” 

You focus on measuring the butter, cream, and powdered sugar for the buttercream. “If only that were true.” You murmur to yourself, cleaning off the electric whisks and washing them before you reattach to whisk the buttercream. Some powdered sugar flies out of the bowl, and you yelp when the sugar lands on your face. “God. Not used to this kind of whisk. I have a mixer.” You chuckle.

Reaching over, Dave swipes the sugar off your cheek and pops it into his mouth. “Hmmm, sweet.” He comments, smirking at you. “I’ll get you a mixer, just tell me the brand and I’ll make sure you have it.” He promises. 

You falter when his finger caresses your skin for a moment. “Kitchenaid. Professional. Turquoise.” You tell him, wanting something bright in his otherwise dull loft. You work on cleaning the work surface once the buttercream is ready. The oven timer goes off and you grab the mitts, opening the door to pull the tins out and set them on the side. You’re pleased with how they raised.

He hums and watches you move, thinking that you seem completely at home moving around in his kitchen. It’s a homey atmosphere, making him think of family instead of the two of you being bitter enemies. You could have been his girlfriend or his wife, making dessert for tonight. “I’ll make sure you get one this afternoon.” He tells you, pulling his phone out of his pocket and sending a message to Ari for the mixer and more baking shit for you to play around with. 

You look at him as he puts his phone back in his pocket. “Thank you.” You tell him honestly, surprised that he’s trying to give you something to help you pass the time during your imprisonment. You wait for the cake to cool, and then you begin icing the cake. “When did you learn to do this?” Dave asks, still leaning against the counter. “When I was young. My mom - before she was killed - used to spend time with me in the kitchen. She taught me how to cook and how to bake.” You explain. “Do you want a slice?” You ask, looking up at Dave.

“Sure.” Dave walks to the fridge to pull out the carton of milk to pour a glass for himself. He sets it on the counter before he looks at you. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs softly, knowing that your father had blamed his family for her death. “I don’t think it’s right, what happened.” He was too young to have been involved in her death but he knows his family name is as good as a guilty verdict. 

You close your eyes, knowing he isn’t directly responsible for your mother’s death, but his family is and that makes him part of the reason why she was killed. Your mother was loving and kind, always asking your father to end the turf wars. You were young but you remember her begging your father to end the generations of feuding. After her death, your father doubled down on his efforts to destroy the York family. You look at him, “would you cut it up? Since I can’t find the knives.” You ask, carrying the cake over to the table along with two small plates.

Dave snorts and walks over to a cabinet that has a keypad on it. Entering the code and pulling out a knife before he walks over to the table. “I’ve heard of your penchant for knife work.” He tells you, stopping for a moment before he turns the knife around and offers it to you, handle first. How you react to that will tell him a lot. 

You smirk as you take the handle, looking at him, as you inspect the blade. You twirl the knife in your hand, and bring it down to cut a line into the cake. “Knives are unexpected. No one expects you to take a knife and stab them through the neck. Now, a gun? You can spot those instantly. Try to dodge the bullet. But when you’re inches away from the person wielding the knife? You have no chance.” You say, cutting a slice and sliding it onto a plate before you hand it to Dave. You cut yourself a piece and set the knife down, knowing he’s expecting you to try something, and unexpectedly to you, you don’t want to harm him right now.

Raising a brow, he sets the cake down before he walks back over to the counter to grab the milk and two glasses. “I don’t know about you, but having cold milk with cake like you’re five years old again is the only way to have it.” He tells you, holding up the carton. “Do you want a glass?” The air feels different right now, he can’t put his finger on it, but he wants to extend another invitation to get close that doesn’t have anything to do with family names and revenge. 

You nod, biting your lip as he pours two glasses of milk and hands one to you. It would be so easy to smash the glass in his face, incapacitate him for a few moments for you to get the knife and kill him, but you don’t want to. That confuses you. You watch him sit back down, and you actually offer him a smile when he looks at you. “Go on. Try it.” You tell him, wanting to see if he likes your baking.

Dave nearly asks if you managed to use baking materials to create a poison. He doesn’t though, instead he forks up a large bite of the cake and shoves it in his mouth. Eyes widening and he can’t help the moan that escapes his mouth when the flavors meld on his tongue. “Holy shit.” He groans and reaches for his milk before taking a sip and letting it mix with the cake. 

You fluster at his groan, imagining him doing that in another situation, and you take a bite of the cake. “Good?” You ask him, almost nervous that he’s going to like it. “I- I just did a basic cake. I have more recipes. Carrot cake. Red velvet. Death by Chocolate.” You smirk at him.

“Fuck, make that next.” Dave moans. “I’ll get you all the chocolate you want. He eagerly digs into the cake, inhaling his slice while you watch. Sweets were a weakness that he rarely indulged in, but this cake is just amazing.

You like that he likes it. That he wants you to bake more. For a moment, you can pretend that you and Dave are just two normal people, and you even allow yourself a second to think that you’re making the cake for him as your boyfriend, or husband. That thought is soon gone when you remember why you’re here. “Can I watch TV in the living room after this is cleaned up?” You ask him.

Dave scrapes up some of the buttercream frosting and licks it off his fork. “After this? Sure.” He agrees to that since he was honestly going to recommend it himself. Despite you being a Smith, he wanted you to enjoy being here. “I need to clean up the room you are in anyway.”

You bite your lip. “Sorry about that. I was mad you had captured me. Still am, a little, but I took it out on that room.” 

Dave nods, “just glad it wasn’t me.” He admits, and you exhale softly, glancing around the kitchen when you whisper, “me too.” You stand up, working on washing the dishes, and you even wash the knife, setting it on the side. You need to earn his trust, and then maybe he will tell you why you’re here. If he wanted you dead, he would’ve done it by now.

Dave does put up the knife, but it’s not just because he’s afraid he might get it in the back. Things are tenuous between you, but the knife actually does go in that cabinet. He likes keeping the counters clutter free, although he thinks that might change the longer you are here. “I’m going to get you some new pillows and bedding.” He tells you. “And vacuum up the feathers. Watch whatever you want.”

You nod, making your way to the living room. You admire the nice leather couch, and grab the remote to turn on the TV. Listening to some random episode of “The Office,” you also listen to Dave as he cleans up your room. You wonder why he doesn’t just have his men do it. You switch channels to the news, swallowing when you see the bulletin for your kidnapping. Your family - as well as Dave’s - have professional, legit business fronts, and you are known as the daughter of the best real estate investor in town. The newsreader announces your kidnapping from the club, but no video has been released. You frown at that, wondering if they had video of you being taken.

Dave cleans up the room, putting fresh sheets on the bed and making sure that there are pillows that aren’t split open. He knows he should have made you clean this up, but honestly he didn’t want to start an argument with you. He likes the tentative truce that you have. Besides, it gives him a chance to answer messages. Of course your kidnapping is public so his father wants to know if he had anything to do with it, but he finds himself hesitating to tell him.

You bite your lip, trying to figure out why you're here if Dave isn't going to kill you. Maybe you're a bargaining chip in a deal with your father. Dave walks in, sitting down on the sofa next to you. You turn to look at him, "why am I here?"

“Honestly?” Dave sighs and sends you a small grin. “You pissed me off when you threw the drink on me, so I decided that I would get you back. But I didn’t want to kill you. I’d be dealing with your psycho cousin.”

You chuckle, shifting to tuck your legs underneath you. "Get me back by locking me in an expensive loft with a nice bed, and baking supplies. Really punishing me, York." You snort, "plus my psycho cousin would kill me if he could. Always wanted to take over. He thinks a man should be in charge, that I'm not capable."

Snort, he shifts to face you. “I’ll kill him for you.” He offers jokingly. “Men are not nearly as wily as women are. Women have ruled the world through their cunts for millennia.”

You smirk, deciding to mess with Dave some more. You move fast, straddling him in his t-shirt, and you grind down on him. "Is that so? Is pussy really the secret weapon to bringing down a man? To rule the world?" You ask innocently despite your hips slowly grinding onto him.

He grunts and while his hands go to your hips, he doesn’t move you and push you away. Instead he lets you grind down on him, feeling himself harden under the heat and friction of your cunt moving against him. “Yes.” He says hoarsely, fingers digging into your flesh slightly. “You should know. How many men have you killed that thought they had a chance to climb between your thighs?”

You lean closer, almost so your lips are brushing his, and you whisper, "Too many. And none of them ever got this close." You tell him, before shifting off of his lap after you know you've made him hard. You settle back onto the sofa, grabbing the remote to change the channel. "Ooo Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I love this movie." You declare as you settle into the sofa.

He grunts shifting slightly and wipes a hand down his face to hide his grin. Yeah you were fucking with him, and he should be mad, but he wasn’t. You know you are a beautiful woman and could make a dead man hard, so it’s not like he’s giving away a secret that he finds you attractive. “Good movie.” He agrees, leaning back. “Rivals, married and finding out they want to stay together. Classic.”

You snort as you look over at him, his legs now crossed, and you can’t help but smirk. “Like us. Rivals. Except we aren’t married, and we don’t want to be together.” You hum, frowning slightly when you realize that leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Dave tries to ignore the way his stomach twists at the idea of you being his wife, wondering why it doesn’t sound so repulsive. 

****

A few days pass by, and you keep yourself busy by baking. Cupcakes. Cookies. You’ve even made the Death by Chocolate cake that Dave requested. You would deny that his groans of appreciation made you rub your clit when you were in the privacy of your room, wondering how he’d sound with his cock deep inside of you. “Dave! The cheesecake is ready!” You call out, happy it’s now refrigerated and cool.

“I swear your plan is to make me so fat that I can’t move.” Even as he’s grumbling, he makes his way into the kitchen to have a slice. This week has been surprisingly fun. His father has found out that you are here, and while he’s not happy that Dave won’t bring you to the house, he does approve of his plan. Even if he had felt guilty for even saying it out loud. “I was drooling on myself out there.” He compliments, biting his lip at the sight of you in another pair of boxers and his t-shirt.

You giggle, setting the plate down on the table as he walks in. “Getting old, huh?” You tease, and he growls in faux annoyance, smacking your ass. You would’ve killed him for doing that last week, but now, you can’t deny the thrill that runs through you at his touch. You can’t deny it any longer. You want Dave. You want him to touch you. Maybe it’s because he’s the only person you’ve seen for the past week, or maybe it’s because he’s not as bad as you thought he was. He has his faults, so do you, but he’s actually a funny, handsome man. “Sit.” You order, wanting to see what he thinks of your latest dessert.

He eagerly does so, before forgetting that he hasn’t gotten a knife out of the cabinet. “Code is 8753.” He tells you, sitting down and leaning over the cheesecake to take a deep breath. He’s come to trust you over the past week, if you want to threaten him and leave, he’s honestly to the point where he would take you home himself. He’s gotten soft and he hates it but he also can’t help it.

You inhale sharply when he gives you the code to the knife cabinet. You know it’s what you’ve been trying to achieve, for him to trust you, but now that the moment has arrived, you find yourself reluctant to take a knife and throw it into his head. You want to stay with him. You frown at that, wondering when you went soft for Dave York. You take a knife out, admiring the blade for a moment, before you turn towards the table. “You do the honors.” You tell Dave, setting the knife down in front of him.

He’s a little shocked that you set the knife down, but he looks up at you and nods while he picks it up. “Thank you, princess.” He murmurs, voice low and husky. He cuts thick slices of the cheesecake and dishes them out onto the plates, but when you move to go sit down, he wraps a hand around your wrist and tugs you into his lap. You gasp but he picks up the fork and cuts a bite of the cheesecake to offer to you first even though he’s been looking forward to this ever since you said you wanted to make one. “Ladies first.”

You glance at him briefly before you lean forward to wrap your lips around the fork, moaning at the decadent taste of the cheesecake you made. You make a show of licking the fork, wanting to make him squirm beneath you, and you hum. “Delicious, even if I do say so myself.” You smirk, grabbing the fork, and cutting off a piece for Dave, before you offer it to him.

Dave watches you while he takes the bite, moaning when the tangy taste of the cheesecake hits his tongue. His lips make sure that the fork is clean when he pulls back and his eyes close, savoring the bite while the sinful noises resonate in his throat. “Fuck.”

You can’t help but clench around nothing at his groan, the way his eyes close. It turns you on more than anything you’ve ever known. You know he’s your sworn enemy, the man you most hate more than anyone else, but this past week has made you realize how attracted you are to Dave York. How deadly he is, but how soft he can be. You can’t help it anymore, you want him. You surge forward, pressing your lips to his.

The kiss catches him off guard, the fork he had been holding for you clattering to the table while he wraps his arms around you. Leaning into the kiss and dragging you closer to him while his mouth opens at the insistence of your tongue. It might be a trick, you might be about to gut him with that knife, but he doesn’t care about that right now. Too focused on how you taste and how your tongue is tangling with his while you gasp into his mouth.

He hums, loving the way that you arch your back, giving him more access. “What do you want?” He groans against your skin. If you want, he will go back to eating cheesecake, but will probably have to go take a shower after. He had meant it when he said he liked his women willing. “What do you want, princess?”

“You.” You respond breathlessly, meaning it. You want him. You don’t know if it’s because he’s the only person you’ve spoken to for a week or because he has managed to change your opinion of him as some ruthless monster. “Please. I want you. God. I fucking hate it but I want you Dave. I want you to fuck me.”

Victory is sweet, but you are sweeter. His cock twitches under your and he groans against your pulse. Technically it’s not moral to fuck someone you’ve kidnapped, but he’s never claimed to be a moral man by the standards of others. He slides his hands around you and squeezes your ass. “You’re gonna let me?” He demands breathlessly. “Make you cum and then push inside that little virgin pussy? Claiming it as mine?”

You pant, grinding down onto his hardening cock, and you know you should be ashamed of his words, of giving your innocence to him, but you want him to take it. You nod, leaning back to look at him, “yes. Yes. Please. I want you to make me cum. Then maybe you can fuck me. Depends on how good you are at eating pussy.” You smirk, gathering some of your wits back to be that fiery woman he knows.

Gripping your ass, he lifts you up a few inches to push you back onto the table. Making the dishes clatter as you scatter them behind you when you flail out for stability. “I’ll show you how good I am.” He promises, reaching under your shirt to grip the edge of his boxers to drag them down your thighs.

You feel exposed under his dark gaze when he shoves your shirt up and pushes your thighs apart. You shiver as the cool air hits your damp folds, and his eyes seem to devour the sight of your cunt. "Dave." You sigh when he rubs your thighs, and you whimper, needing him to touch you.

“I’ve got you, princess.” He promises. He wants to make this good for you. Unforgettable. You will always remember the first man you slept with and he’s determined to make sure you have no reason to naysay his abilities. He lowers his head and engulfs your cunt in his hot mouth with a groan.

Your eyes roll back, unable to believe how good his hot mouth already feels like heaven. You reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair. You've had men go down on you before but none had satisfied you enough before they wanted to fuck you. You weren't a tease, you let them know you didn't want penetration. Dave's tongue flicks over your clit, making you cry out, and the cheesecake falls to the floor when your arm flings out to knock it off of the table. "Shit." You hiss, tugging on his hair to push him deeper into your folds.

He groans into your flesh, obeying your silent command. He’s not gone down on a lot of women, but he knows exactly what to do. He sucks your clit into his mouth and tugs on it before he’s running his tongue up and down your folds, over your clit while you grind down on his face.

You moan loudly, certain that no man has ever eaten you out with such vigor and you tug on Dave‘s hair even harder, desperate for him to make you cum after all of the nights you spend imagining him between your thighs. “Fingers. I want your fingers inside of me.”

He pulls away from your cunt, making you whine but he slips two fingers into his mouth to coat them in his spit. “Look good, princess.” He coos, sliding them up your folds and starting to push them inside you as he takes you clit back into his mouth.

You cry out as his thick fingers stretch your walls, and you curse when he curls them inside of you, quickly finding that spot that makes your walls clamp down on his digits. “Dave! Oh fuck, right there. That’s it. Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” You warn as he pumps his fingers and leans down to suck harshly on your clit. Couple of more pumps of his digits, and you fall over the edge, soaking his fingers with your juices.

He works you through it slowly, pumping his fingers and scissoring them to stretch you open to take him. Watching you ride out your high until you are satiated and pushing at his head. He lets go of your clit and smirks. “How was that?” He hums.

You sit up a little, looking at him, and you grab onto his hair, pushing him back down towards your cunt. "One more. Then you can fuck me." You promise, knowing you need him to make you cum again so you can savor this moment. You've heard stories about how bad sex can be the first time, and you desperately want it to be good after waiting so long.

He snorts, amused by your bossiness. “Whatever you say, princess.” He grunts, not minding at all because your walls are tight and you will need it if you are going to take him easily. His tongue licks at your clit. “Need to make sure you are ready.”

He hums, feeling it vibrate against your clit. He looks up at you and sucks harshly, keeping his fingers pressed against that spot. Drawing circles on your flesh between sucks, willing you to cum as he watches with dark eyes.

He pushes you higher and higher until you crash, clamping down on his fingers with a whine, you soak them again, and fall back onto the table as your thighs shake. It’s the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, not that you’d tell him that, and you try to catch your breath.

Dave hums in satisfaction at the wet sound of his fingers as he pulls the out. Massaging your thigh gently while waiting for you to tell him you want more. He’s not going to assume, not with you being a virgin.

You sit up, looking down at Dave, and you surge forward to press your lips to his. Sliding your tongue into his mouth, loving the tangy taste of your cum on his lips. “Fuck me, want you to fuck me.” You tell him, shifting off of the table to straddle his lap again.

Letting you grind down on him is the sweetest torture. Until he needs to pull away when you start reaching for his pants. He cups your cheek, staring into your eyes. “Bedroom, princess.” He murmurs. “Your first time should be in a bed.”

You huff in frustration, wanting to see him here and now after hearing several rumors about him being…well endowed. Shuffling off of his lap, you are careful of the broken plates and cutlery, as you watch him stand up, his pants tented to display his own frustrations. “Who knew you were such a gentleman?” You tease, stepping out of the kitchen, and you grab his hand to guide him to your assigned bedroom.

He almost pulls you towards his bedroom, but stops himself at the last minute. The camera in the smoke detector is in your room and will pick up every moan and whispered word, the high resolution video making for perfect material to send your father. He pushes away the guilt and lets you drag him into the room, smirking when he finds the room neat and the bed made up. “Eager to get me into your bed, princess?” He coos.

You chuckle, tugging on his shirt, “like you aren’t eager to fuck me. Your crotch says otherwise, York.” You reach down and squeeze him through his pants. “Come on baby. Tell me what you want.” You murmur, nipping his jaw. You caress his chest before sliding your hands lower, pulling his shirt out of his pants so you can run your palms along his stomach.

He growls and grabs your hands, smirking when he sees your confusion bloom for a second. “I want your shirt off.” He pulls your shirt over your head and tosses it aside, reaching up to pinch both of your nipples. “Then I want you to lay down and spread your legs while I strip off. Show me how badly you want me to fuck you.”

You obey him, shifting to lay down on the bed, head against the pillows so you can watch him, and you waste no time in spreading your legs. Your cunt is dripping, and you reach up to squeeze your tits as he unbuckles his belt. When he pushes his shirt off of his shoulder, you notice the scars and blemishes from his violent upbringing. He kicks off his shoes and socks, and when he pushes his pants down, along with his briefs, your jaw drops. “Fuck Dave. That- I don’t think I can take that.” You exhale honestly, eying his girth.

He smirks, proud of your reaction to him. “Oh, you can.” He promises, wrapping his hand around the base and squeezing. “And you will. Every inch will be buried deep inside that tight little cunt and you're going to cum all over it.”

You swallow, eager to feel him, but undeniably apprehensive. “I- okay. Do you- you have a condom? I'm not on birth control.” You tell him, keeping your legs spread as he slowly pumps his cock. His words, although making you anxious, also make you wetter.

“In my pocket.” He bends down to pick up his pants and pull the ever present wallet out. A habit from times when he had to be ready to abandon a place at a moment's notice during the height of the blood feud. He pulls out the foil wrapper and tosses everything else onto the ground. “Come put it on me.” He orders, stepping over to the end of the bed.

You smirk, shifting onto your hands and knees as you crawl towards him, you take the condom, and open the wrapper. Before you put it on him, you can’t help but lean forward to flick your tongue over the bead of pre-cum before wrapping your lips around the head, looking up at him.

“Fuck.” Dave hisses, knowing that you haven’t had a lot of cocks in your mouth but you’re sucking on his. He reaches down and caresses your cheek before putting his hand on the back of your head and urging you down.

You gag as he pushes you further but you exhale slowly, and continue pushing him down your throat. Your jaw is stretched wide, and you swallow around him, loving the way he moans. His length twitches as you bob your head, it’s a little sloppy and lacking rhythm, but what you lack in skill, you make up for in enthusiasm.

“It’s good.” He praises and eases up on the pressure while pulling his hips back. “But I want to fuck you.” He is closer to blowing his load than he wants you to know. Instead he cradles your jaw. “Put it on me so I can sink into you.”

You pull off of his cock, grabbing the condom, and you fumble as you pinch the tip before you roll it down his cock, twisting your wrist as you pump him a couple of times. “Lay down.” He orders, and you nod, shifting to lay back against the pillows, your heart thumping in your chest.

He knows the cameras are recording everything but he’s not thinking about that. Instead he’s thinking about how good you look spread out. Instead he’s shuffling between your thighs, swiping up some of the slick arousal that is coating your cunt and smearing it over the condom. Sliding his cock through your folds to wet it even further before he pushes your legs back to notch himself at your entrance and slowly starts to break you open.

You close your eyes, feeling the stinging sensation of him pushing inside of you, but it’s manageable. Your hands grab onto his upper arms, nails digging into his skin slightly as you feel him push deeper. “Shit.” You exhale shakily, your heart thumping as you feel him push all the way inside of you, the pain subsiding a little. 

“Are you okay, princess?” He asks, and you nod. Leaning up, you press your lips to his, needing a moment to adjust to the feel of his thick cock inside of you.

Dave groans when he feels you start to relax around him, getting comfortable with him inside you. He licks into your mouth as he slowly pulls his hips back to thrust back into you smoothly. Swallowing your gasp and twitching when you grip him tight again.

You cling to him, "God Dave. It's - it feels good." You moan, the pain fully subsiding as he slowly rocks into you. You kiss along his jaw, unable to believe how he feels above you, his body covering yours, and you fucking love it.

He picks up the pace, rocking into you fast with hard, deep pushes of his hips once he feels that you can take it. Watching your mouth fall open in pleasure when he hits a certain spot inside you and he tilts your hips up to make sure he can hit it again and again. “That’s right. Tell me how good it feels.” He orders harshly through panted breaths.

You love the way he pants, neck strained as he tries to control himself. Part of you wants to have him fuck you harder but another part of you wants to savor this moment. You wrap your legs around his hips, hooking your ankles together. “It’s so good Dave. Fuck. Didn’t - didn’t know it would feel so good. You’re so big. My tight little cunt is barely taking you.” You moan, all inhibitions lost as you give yourself over to the pleasure.

You swear you could pass out from the way he feels thrusting inside of you. “Dave. Dave. Oh God. I- I’m gonna- gonna cum.” You squeal, unable to help yourself as he rocks into you. His pelvis is grinding against your clit, and you scream his name when you cum, soaking his cock, lower stomach, and balls. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

“Fuck.” Dave hisses, loving how tight and wet you get. It’s a struggle to keep pushing into your spasming cunt and he grits his teeth. “You liked that?” He demands, shifting to get closer to you, biting down on your bottom lip before he kisses you again. “Want to cum again? Really show me how much you love my cock?”

You slide your tongue into his mouth, moaning your agreement at him making you cum again. “Please. Yes. Make - make me cum again.” You plead into his mouth, clinging to him because you are squashed beneath him and there’s nothing else you can do.

He shifts, sliding his hand down so he can rub your clit. Speeding up to where the solid thwack of his hips against your ass is loud as he fucks down into you. “Come on.” He groans. “Give me another.  Little pussy is so responsive. Loves getting fucked.”

You cry out, throwing your head back, and when he hits deep again, you cum once more. A sob escaping your lips as you soak his cock again. “Oh Dave. Dave. Oh God. So good. So so good. Want - want to see you cum.” You plead, reaching up to cup his cheek, and you want to watch him as he cums because of you.

You love watching his brow furrow and his mouth fall open as he cums. It’s intoxicating and you wish you could see it over and over again. “I never thought I’d lose my virginity to you.” You chuckle breathlessly, stroking his neck as you kiss along his jaw. It’s intimate, but it feels right.

He huffs, turning and pressing his lips to yours for a moment while he catches his breath. Carefully holding the base of his cock and pulling out of you so he can dispose of the condom, he rocks back into his knees and lets your legs fall. “Want to clean up?” He asks, knowing he wants to get out of the bedroom so he’s not being recorded anymore. He’s got what he needs, even if it's making his stomach turn. “Soak in a bath?”

You nod, feeling a little sore from being pulled around in a way you’re not used to. You wonder if he will get in the bath with you or if he will abandon you now that he’s gotten what he wanted. You know he wanted to fuck you, maybe to tell everyone he’s taken your innocence, or for his own private victory. You hope it’s neither and he genuinely wanted you, but this is Dave York. You shuffle off of the bed as he disposes of the condom, and you unashamedly walk out and down the hall to the bathroom so you can turn on the bath.

He follows you out of the bedroom, leaning against the door to watch you pull out towels. “I, uh, I have some fizzy bath salts.” He offers hesitantly, feeling slightly foolish. “Good for sore muscles and things.” He gives a small shrug as if he’s not making an ass of himself. “If you want I can go get them. I don’t want you to be sore, princess. And I was a little rougher than I should have been with a virgin.”

You smile to yourself, unable to believe Dave York is discussing bath salts. You turn to look at him, “that would be nice. Yes…I, uh, I didn’t think - I didn’t think it would be sweet. Wasn’t like you were making love to me. It was fucking.” You shrug, turning to the cabinet where he points out the bath salts. You pour them in and watch the water rise, feeling Dave’s eyes on your back.

“Do you want some water?” He offers. The comment about fucking bothers him for a reason he doesn’t want to examine right now. It was fucking. It had to be. You were his literal hostage and he had recorded it to hold power over your family. “I can go get you some. Need to clean up the mess we made in the kitchen.” He can’t help but chuckle at getting one bite of the cheesecake he had been drooling over all morning.

You chuckle, feeling a little guilty that the cheesecake was knocked to the floor. “Water would be nice.” You murmur, testing the water. “Are you- do you want to get in here with me?” You ask, knowing you should hate him, but he makes it so hard to do so now that you’ve gotten to see another side of him. Part of you worries that it was all a show. An act to take your virginity and lord that over you.

“Do you want me to?” He doesn’t care about your last name or his last name right now. He stares at you, wanting you to answer him honestly. “I - it’s up to you.”

You stare back at him, unsure if you should say yes, but the way he looks at you nodding. “Yes. I want you to.” You answer, testing the water before you step into the bath, shifting forward so he can get in behind you. You aren’t sure when your hatred faded for Dave, but right now, you don’t care. You just want him to hold you.

“Let me grab the water.” He flashes you a grin and bolts from the door to hurry to the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle out of the fridge, he avoids the mess and rushes back to the bathroom. “Here.” He holds it out for you to take before he starts climbing into the bathtub behind you.

You take the water bottle, downing half of it before you hand it to him as he settles behind you. “Here, baby.” You offer, not even thinking of the nickname as you settle back against him.

He hums, taking the bottle and finishing it in two large gulps before he is tossing it towards the trash can and wrapping his arm around you. “You aren’t too sore, are you, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, leaning your head against his shoulder, and you close your eyes. “No. I’m okay. It’s…it’s nice. I like the soreness. Reminds me of what happened.” You caress his forearm, turning your head to inhale the lingering scent of his cologne. You allow yourself some time to forget that this isn’t real, that he’s keeping you hostage, and you’re certain that being locked up has made you crazy. You’ll likely regret it when you do escape.

His fingers stroke your body, amazed that you are here with him like this. He’s always wondered how you would be behind the public persona and he loves it. Biting his lip, he considers erasing the DVR after you’ve gone to sleep tonight, destroying the evidence of what you’ve done together. Kissing along your jaw and down your throat softly, he murmurs your name. “Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” He asks softly. “With me?”

You are surprised, but ponder it for a moment, knowing you would like to continue this tender moment before reality hits and he locks you up again. You turn your head to softly kiss his lips. You were surprised to hear him say your name for the first time. “I’d like that.” You murmur, wondering what will happen next.

“If you aren’t too sore.” He slides his hand down to cup your mound. “We’ll go slow this next time.” He murmurs in your ear. “Show you what sensual feels like.” He can’t call it making love, it would be silly and you would accuse him of being a sap. His fingers tap your clit through your puffy folds. “What do you think about that?”

You whimper when he circles your clit, your hips bucking up slightly. “God Dave. Yes. Yes. I want that. Want you to show me everything about sex. Want to suck your cock too.” You groan, head lolling on his shoulder, and you are getting tired but it feels good to have his fingers rubbing your clit. You aren’t too sore, you feel worn out, but in a good way,

He groans, twitching against your ass at the thought of your sweet mouth around him again. “How many cocks have you sucked with that sassy mouth of yours?” He coos, keeping his fingers moving over your sensitive clit. “One, ten?”

Whining at the way he rubs your clit a little harder, you nip his jaw. “Three, including yours. High school party in a bathroom - wasn’t my best moment - and in college, during a date and when he found out who my dad is, he left before he could fuck me and I never saw him again.”

Dave snorts. “Pussy.” He is glad that the asshole hadn’t gotten a chance to touch you. “His loss, my pleasure.” He scrapes his teeth along your pulse and switches his thumb to your clit so he can twist his wrist and pushes two fingers inside you while he other hand comes up to cup one of your tits. “Glad he didn’t fuck you. Probably wouldn’t have done it right.”

You moan, covering his hand on your chest. “God Dave. No. No. Only you. Only you can fuck me right.” You turn your head to press your lips to his, sliding your tongue into his mouth as he rubs your clit with his thumb. You can feel his cock hardening against your back, and you grind back onto him.

Pride surges in his chest and he deepens the kiss. Rubbing your clit harder and pushing his fingers deep. You are just about to cum. He can tell from the way your body is trembling and wants to see it again. This is probably the least selfish he’s ever been but he loves seeing you fall apart because of him.

A few more pumps of his fingers, and you fall over the edge, clamping down on his digits. “Oh fuck.” You gasp, until it turns into a cry when he continues pumping his fingers. “Dave. So- so much better than- than my fingers.” You murmur against his lips. You want him again. “Let’s get out of the water. I need you.” You tell him, wanting him again.

He chuckles, pulling his fingers out of your cunt and slapping it lightly through the water, making you squeal in surprise. “Have to my bed since you soaked the sheets on yours.” He reminds you smugly.

You shift to get out of the bath, grabbing a towel, and you wrap it around yourself before you hand a towel to Dave. He gets out and dries himself off. You take his hand once you’re both dry, guiding him out of the bathroom. “Come on baby, want you inside of me again.” You demand, feeling confident now that you know he wants you.

Smirking, he smacks your towel covered ass. “You want me inside of you again, huh? From virgin to vixen in just a few hours.” He chuckles when you put an extra sway in your walk, swinging your hips and shaking your ass as you walk to his locked door. Dave punches in the code, not caring if you see and open it. “After you, princess.”

****

You blink, the morning sun shining through the curtain, and you turn to see Dave is still sleeping. Smiling to yourself, you shuffle out of the bed, deciding to get up and make breakfast for Dave before he wakes up. You make your way out to the kitchen when you find the men you’ve seen hanging around with Dave during his visits to the clubs and when you arrive at this loft. You frown when you hear them cheering, all gathered around a laptop. 

“Oh look at that. The fucking prude little bitch is actually a needy whore. Wait until her daddy sees this.” You step closer, hearing moans and when you hear “oh fuck. Dave.” You stride forward to see a video playing on the laptop. Your eyes widen when you see a video of you and Dave, of last night. The men turn to see you, chuckles escaping their lips, and tears sting in your eyes. 

You stare at the screen, unable to believe this is happening, and then the rage hits. You grab the rolling pin from the counter that Dave had bought you, and you run into the bedroom where Dave is still sleeping. You waste no time in whacking him in the chest with the rolling pin, “you fucking bastard!” You scream.

“What the fuck!” Dave is immediately awake, throwing his hands up to block another blow from what he quickly figures out is a rolling pin. “What the fuck has gotten into you?” He demands, jumping out of bed and glaring at you. At least it wasn’t a knife to his kidneys but the fucking rolling pin still hurts.

You try to hit him again. “I can’t believe - you asshole! I’m going to fucking kill you!” You shriek. Dave grabs onto the rolling pin, taking it from your hands so you surge forward to whack his chest. 

“Can I at least know why you’re going to kill me?” He asks, trying to grab onto your hands. 

“You filmed it. You filmed us having sex. You- I knew shouldn’t have trusted you. You’re a fucking bastard.” You choke on a sob, collapsing forward onto his chest as your anger transitions to upset that he has betrayed you like this. You should have never trusted a York.

“Fuck.” His eyes widen slightly, wondering how you found that out. Until he sees the door is open and hears the laughter out in the living room. The boys must have accessed the video. That pisses him off, he didn’t fucking tell them to do that. “There was a camera in the room.” He drops the rolling pin and strokes your back for a moment before he pulls away from you. Your tears are killing him and that pisses him off even more. 

“They - fuck, I’m gonna kill them.” He growls. If they have seen it, they will talk about it and he’s already decided that he’s not going to use that moment against you, fuck you being a Smith. He pushes you away gently and turns around to open his nightstand and grab his gun from the drawer.

Your eyes widen as tears stream down your cheeks, and for a second you think he’s going to kill you, but he strides out of the bedroom, and you follow him. Confused until his men turn to look at him. “Dave! Fucking good job getting your dick in the-” Risneck doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Dave raises his hand and shoots him in the head. You’ve seen men shot and killed before so you aren’t bothered about the blood splattering against the cabinets.

Ari’s eyes widen in shock, jumping slightly and leaning away from the body as it is flung back on the sofa. “What the fu-“ He’s holding his hands up and there is a hint of a plea for his life as Dave shoots him just as coldly as he did the other man. These were men he’s known for years, even would have considered them friends. It didn’t matter though, they had snooped where they shouldn’t have and he didn’t want them knowing about this, so they had to die. 

“I’ll delete the video.” He doesn’t even spare another glance at the bodies as he reaches for the laptop. Turning and looking at you, he sighs, knowing that this little interlude is over. “I’ll delete it and let you go.”

You stare at him, wondering if this is a trick. “Dave. I-” You choke, finding yourself torn on leaving. “Why- why did you do it?” You just want an answer on why he decided to film you having sex. Filming you losing your virginity. “Are you- I really thought you were - I trusted you.” You finish with a whisper.

“At first it was to get you back.” He admits, voice low and there is the hint of shame in his words. “To use it to embarrass your father, to embarrass you. But, I-“ He sighs and sets the gun down while he deletes the video, wiping it from the hard drive. “I was going to delete it last night. The camera has always been in that room. To get rid of it and then video while you were sleeping but then I fell asleep with you.” His dark eyes find yours and his smile isn’t pleasant. “You won’t believe me, and that’s fine, but I had decided that what happened between us was going to stay private. And since they watched it without my permission, they caught a bullet.”

You feel betrayed, which is ridiculous considering he’s been your enemy for as long as you can remember. Since birth. You wipe your eyes, straightening your back as you shift back into the woman that hates Dave York. You allowed yourself to be vulnerable and you’ve gotten burned. It will never happen again. “I’d like to go home now.” You tell him, spinning on your heel, to go to your bedroom to get your shoes. You are wearing his t-shirt. You walk back to your bedroom, eying the ceiling, and you narrow your gaze at the smoke alarm, knowing that’s where he hid the camera. Opening the closet, you’re surprised to find clothes hanging in there that weren’t there before. 

“I- I wanted you to be able to wear something other than my shirts.” Dave explains from the threshold, pain evident in his voice, but you don’t care. 

“Thanks.” You snort, “giving me clothes despite intending to show my naked body to anyone who would watch your stupid video.” You grab the nearest pair of jeans and slide them on, grabbing a shirt as you take his off, your naked back to him as you pull it over your head. Grabbing some sneakers, you turn to look at Dave. “I want to go. Now.” You declare coolly.

He sighs, deflated at your anger even though he knows it’s justified. “I’ll get dressed.” He murmurs softly, turning around and walking back into his bedroom so he can put clothes on. He doesn’t even bother picking up the gun from where he had left it, not caring if you grabbed it at this point. In the last half hour, he had made a horrific discovery that would probably haunt him for the rest of his life. He has fallen in love with you. Completely in love in the purest sense, and you hate his guts.

You wait in the living room for Dave. Arms crossed as you stare at the two dead bodies, wondering if Dave killed them for watching the video before he could show it off, or if he killed them because he didn’t want anyone watching the video, if he genuinely changed his mind. You bite your lip, eying the gun he had abandoned, and you curse yourself for not having the want to grab it and kill Dave. Something you’ve wanted to do for years. Why not now? What has changed? You don’t get to dwell on that when Dave walks out of his bedroom, dressed in black pants and a shirt that fits just right. You hate that your immediate thought is that he looks handsome.

He can’t help but think that you are beautiful, even if you are glaring at him. He doesn’t even spare a glance at the men he killed, feeling no remorse for what he had done. “Let’s take you home, princess.” He murmurs, his keys in his hand and he unlocks the door leading outside the apartment. “The video is deleted and they are dead. No one will know that you slept with me.” He promises, knowing you don’t want anyone knowing what happened. “I’m not going to tell anyone.”

You nod, silently following him out of the apartment to the elevator. You awkwardly stand there as the car descends to the parking garage, and you want to glance over at Dave but you can’t. The betrayal still stings. He guides you to his car, and you open the passenger door before he can reach for the handle, getting in before he can help you. With a sigh, Dave rounds the car and gets into the driver's seat, starting the engine before he backs out of his space.

The drive towards your family’s turf is quiet, so much left unsaid between the two of you. “I am going to drop you off at the club.” Dave speaks up finally. “It’s neutral territory and I’ve let them know to have a car for you.” He has called the owner and let him know he was bringing you back. He takes his eyes off the wheel and glances over at you, wishing you would look at him but you just stare out the window. He sighs and taps his fingers on the wheel.

When you arrive at the club, there's so much you want to say, but you keep your mouth shut, knowing you could tell Dave how you feel in the midst of being angry. You swallow down the torrent of words and get out of the car once he's cut the engine. You enter the club, sensing him walking behind you, and you finally turn to look at Dave. "Seems like a lifetime since I was last here." You confess, looking to meet his dark gaze.

“A lot has happened.” He murmurs, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a card. “I know you hate me. You have every right to. But if you ever need anything, even if it’s to call me a bastard again, this is my private cell. Nothing to do with my family.” He tells you, wishing he didn’t love you but he does. Wishing you weren’t a Smith, but you are. “Goodbye, princess. I’ll see you around.” He turns around and walks away before he can do something stupid like tell you that he loves you and he’s so sorry for hurting you.

You stare at the card in your hand, looking up to watch him as he walks towards the door. You open your mouth to say something, trying to gather the words to explain how you feel but someone beats you to it. “Not so fast, York.” Your eyes widen when you see your father appear, gun in hand as he walks towards Dave, stopping him from leaving the club.

“Shit.” Dave hisses, having brought no weapon on him since they weren’t allowed in the club. Obviously Smith couldn’t follow the rules. “Smith.” He holds up his hands causally. “Surprised to see you’ve come to collect the princess yourself. Never leave that house of yours.”

“Dad-” You step forward but your father shakes his head. 

“Oh. I had to come this time. I had to see the man who took my daughter's innocence.” Your eyes widen, suddenly feeling sick. How does your father know? “Imagine my surprise when I received an email with a video. After clicking on it, I see it’s you defiling my daughter after you kidnapped her. How fucking dare you!” Your father yells, and tears swim in your eyes at the fact that Dave lied, he didn’t delete the video, he sent it to your father.

His brow furrows in confusion, knowing he didn’t send it to the man. “Fuck.” He spits, shaking his head. “My father sent it to you. Didn’t he?” He demands, vowing that he will kill the old man for meddling when he had no right to meddle. The apartment and the video was his. “I deleted it, it’s gone, and I killed my men for watching it.”

You step closer, “you didn’t - you didn’t send it?” You half accuse, knowing that Dave has stooped lower than most, but you never thought him capable of this. Your father clicks off the safety to show Dave he means business. You step even closer to your father. “Dad. He- he isn’t - Dave is capable of many things but - but I don’t think he would’ve done this.” You realize looking back on it that he killed his own men for seeing the video, he wouldn’t have sent it to your father. 

“Bullshit.” Your father spits, “you planned all of this to humiliate my family, my daughter. You fucking kidnapped her and violated her-” 

You shake your head. “He didn’t violate me. I - I wanted him. I wanted him to fuck me.” You say, and your father turns to look at you. 

“What?” He growls. 

“I - I wanted him because - because- I love him.” You finish, looking over at Dave. Your father’s eyes darken as he strides over to you. He doesn’t say a word, choosing to reach out and hit you, his hand meeting your cheek in a smack, and you collapse to the floor from the impact.

Rage fills Dave, along with terrifying joy that you love her. “Don’t fucking touch her.” He growls, making your father laugh as he turns the gun back towards him. 

“Or what? You don’t have a gun. I knew Yorks were stupid but you walked right in here unarmed.” Dave scoffs and steps towards your father, ready to rip him apart for slapping you. Even he hadn’t done that when you were his hostage and he’d be damned if he would let anyone hurt you. “Don’t make me kill you quickly.” Your father growls, lifting the gun up higher to point at his head.

You scramble to stand up, cheek throbbing, and you put yourself between Dave and your father. "No! No. You aren't going to kill him. I'm tired of this. You are - you're a fucking monster. You've treated me worse than Dave ever did when he fucking kidnapped me." 

Your father scoffs, "get out of my way, you stupid little girl. I always knew you were fucking weak, just like your mother. She was useless. That's why I had to get rid of her. She wasn't strong enough to be my wife." Your father declares and your jaw drops. 

"I thought - you said it was the Yorks-" You stammer, and your father snorts. 

"It was the perfect excuse for escalating the war. Your mother couldn't give me a son so I killed her when she couldn't handle what our life entails. Good thing too. She was weak and so are you. We will change that." Your father promises, and you scream, reaching out to grab the barrel of the gun, and you wrench it away from him before he can pull the trigger, flipping it in your hand so you are aiming it at your father before you pull the trigger, shooting him in the head.

Dave stares at the man as he falls to the ground before he looks back up at you. The gun is shaking in your hands and he takes a cautious step towards you. “Princess?” He keeps his hands up, aware that you are still possibly angry at him. “Don’t shoot me.” He takes a deep breath. “Not until I tell you that I love you. I know I was a bastard for recording us, but I swear to you that I was planning to delete it. I didn’t want anyone seeing you like that. I fell in love with the ballsy, fiery woman that challenged me and I couldn’t do it. I don’t care about a fucking turf war. I don’t want to fight you.”

You stare at him, still in shock about shooting your father, but you don’t regret it. He’s abused you for years and upon hearing he killed your mother - the parent you adored- you couldn’t hold back. You had to take him out. He wouldn’t have let Dave leave the club alive. You surge forward, dropping the gun from your hand and it clatters to the floor. You wrap your arms around Dave's neck and pull him towards you so you can press your lips to his.

He groans, pulling you close and letting his tongue tangle with your while you kiss. Heart pounding in his chest as he forgets about the feud, forgets about the fact that you just killed your father. Everything but the fact that you are kissing him. “I love you.” He murmurs. “I love you, princess. I wanted to kill him when he hit you.” He pulls back and stares at you solemnly. “I will never lay a hand on you. I don’t think it’s right.”

You believe him when he pulls back. He was rough with you when he took you hostage, but he never hurt you. You cup his cheek, “I love you too. I- I never imagined I’d say that to you of all people, but I love you.” You murmur, leaning forward to peck his lips once more. You glance down at your father, knowing there was no love lost, he has always treated you cruelly because you weren’t the son he always wanted. He blamed you for your gender, and he blamed your mother. To find out he’d killed her, you couldn’t stand by and let someone like that kill the man you love. “What now? I- I don’t know - our men…they will blame you for his death, they would never believe I killed him.”

Dave knows that it will be tricky, but he doesn’t care. He smirks at you. “Want to join the families?” He poses. “Hard to argue when your boss marries the guy who killed your father.” He caresses your cheek. “Instead of fighting each other, we just run the whole damn city.”

You blink a few times, taken back by his suggestion, but you end up grinning. "Dave York...are you suggesting I marry you?" You smirk, sliding your hand down to his chest. You know he is right about joining the families. It would honestly be the best thing for the city, to have peace.

Chuckling, he leans in and presses his lips to yours. “I did take your innocence.” He remembers, sliding his hand down to squeeze your ass. “It’s only right I make an honest woman out of you.” He’s joking, of course but he does like the idea of you being his. “It’s either that or we both end up leaving town, because I’m not going to let you go again. I love you, sweetheart.”

You nuzzle your nose against his. "I love you too. I'll marry you. I - I don't want to let you go either, but you are gonna have to make up for kidnapping me...perhaps a few orgasms." You joke. You lean back and look down at your father, sighing at the sight of his blood pooling on the concrete floor.  "Guess we better get our story straight, huh? Who would've guessed it...a York and a Smith marrying. Ending generations of feuding. I suppose we are the end of the line." You turn to look at Dave again, who nods. 

"A new beginning for us and the city." He hums, kissing your forehead. 

"Come on York, let's go get hitched." You giggle, taking his hand. You will deal with your father's body later, right now you want to marry the man you love. 

"Let's go, princess." Dave kisses the back of your hand, unable to believe the woman he hated less than two weeks ago is now going to be his wife.

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #Dave York #dave york x reader #dave york x you #Dave York x f!reader #dave york smut #dave york equalizer 2 #Dave York imagine #Dave York fanfic

[cheese-induced-madness]

Some pre-accident Steven Boxleitner headcanons because I have Thoughts about this man.

-Look I know we all as a fandom collectively like to portray Steven as a perfect cinnamon roll all the time because it makes it more tragic, and that is valid, but it is important to my mental health to believe that he and Wordgirl used to dunk on each other all the damn time. Usually in a more lighthearted tone than we see with Two Brains, but you cannot look at me and tell me they didn’t have a cool adult older sibling-gremlin younger sibling type dynamic. Roasting each other is just part of the deal, your honor.

-In that vein he would absolutely pretend not to know about memes and the Youth Culture just for the sake of making wg cringe. He is GRATUITOUSLY misusing the word “sussy” just to watch her die inside.

-Can cook really well but in a way that would make most professional chefs hate his guts immediately if they saw this man in the kitchen. He’s committing every food crime known to man. He is eyeballing his measurements and microwaving shit that nobody else dares to microwave, yet somehow it always turns out really well. You think a man who welds a grilled cheese together fears consequences for his culinary sins? Because the answer is no. He can and will use a laser to cook a steak and there is no stopping him.

-Plays video games but gets weirdly analytical and strategic about shit that does not need that level of thought. He is making spreadsheets in excel to find the most efficient farm setup in stardew valley and actively researching the best type combinations and stat setups in pokemon before he even picks his starter. Though despite whatever he chooses as the most optimal setup, he still ends up keeping a single ratatta he catches at the start of the game one his team because he can’t bring himself to abandon him in the box.

-pretends to know shit about sports if he has to talk to The Straights about things. Very good at bullshitting his way through a conversation but if he gets called out on it he will never recover.

-Ex theater kid. One of the first shows he did was, ironically, cats. He has done his best to keep any and all video evidence completely hidden because if wg ever found it he would never hear the end of it.

-Childrens show enthusiast that will absolutely go feral over dissecting the lore, worldbuilding and the character arcs in something that is probably ultimately not meant to be that deep. [looks directly at the camera like i’m on the office]

-Has a lot of irrational fears. Clowns, puppets, old dolls, animatronics, and for some reason horses. He simply Does Not Trust Them.

-Has a habit of playing horror games or going down creepy youtube video rabbit holes really late at night and then being unable to sleep due to the very obvious and foreseeable consequences of his own actions. This does not deter him from doing it again the next night.

-Gets crushes on the villains pretty easily and always feels a little bad about it because he’s supposed to be one of the good guys and thus should not be having fantasies about being wrapped up safe in the arms of the guys he’s supposed to be helping to stop.

-I’m not saying he would make fucked up weapons with the intent to use them or cause any serious damage, but he absolutely would make something capable of mass destruction just to see if he’s capable, test it once, and then immediately disassemble it and scrap the blueprints while spending the next week or two unsettled at the knowledge of how much havoc he could cause should he choose to, even if he knows he has no desire to hurt anyone.

-Always feels a little guilty that he’s never out in the field helping wg fight villains. He says it’s because he’s not sure if he’d be much good in a fight, and she assures him it’s fine, but he knows that’s not the real reason. He doesn’t fight because he knows he’d be a little too good at it and he doesn’t trust himself not to take it too far in the heat of the moment.

-Overall gets a lot of intrusive thoughts that he finds pretty upsetting. He’s had them for awhile so he’s pretty much learned to just ignore them, but sometimes something will pop into his head that freaks him out enough that he has to just. stop what he’s doing for a minute and just sort his brain out.

-Always worried that, despite all he does to help the side of good, deep down he’s secretly a bad person at his core and always will be. When he fused with Squeaky and started his first crime spree, he had a moment of sheer panic and grief, mourning what he believed was the death of the only part of him that could be categorized as a good person, dooming him to be only the rotten core that remains. Which is part of the reason he started leaning into the theatrics of being a villain once he got used to Squeaky’s presence, even though Steven is still the one with the dominant portion of control over their body. It’s not so much that Steven changed, but moreso that his perception of himself and how he has to act did. His original amicable and caring personality is still in there and still shines through on occasion, but he’s resigned himself to putting on a front of being antagonistic and selfish because that’s what Squeaky demands and the rest of the city expects of him.

#i am the rat man #dr. two brains #wordgirl #it's time to get unreasonably sad over cartoon characters again gamers!!! #steven boxleitner #god i love him so much. [projects my issues directly onto him] #i have Several Ideas for a fic where he's on a cheese heist on a day where he's in a pretty low place #and he just completely drops the theatrics #balls to the wall. angst beam up to 11. tears will be shed.

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

Rambling Anon with another thought for you

So the title of Separate Ways I think it's interesting that's the way they translated it (because in Japan, Ada's campaign is called The Another Order). But, I like it.

I think a lot of people (especially the antis) see those words and think separate as in "opposite" and "disconnected". Leon's line in the remake, "This is where we go our separate ways" I think some see that as Leon telling Ada they're heading in opposite directions. That they're paths cannot align. Leon is going to go rescue Ashley and get her home and Ada's going to do... whatever she's going to do.

But we know that's not the case. They continue to meet in every title they appear in. Even though they're choices give them different paths, they're heading in the same (or at least similar) directions. Like parallel lines, but not entirely. Because their paths do continue to cross and then split again.

Separate Ways is Ada's path through 4, but it is not unconnected from Leon's path. Leon and Ada start is different locations, but they end up in the same location at the same time several times. Always they split up, even if this goes unnoticed by Leon most of the time, Ada is always looking out for him. Throughout every title, they travel similar paths to arrive at the same destination and then split back up again in a seemingly never-ending loop.

Yes their paths are separate at times. That is the key. At times. Those two are deeply connected to each other, they could never be completely separate from one another, not after Raccoon City. Leon's line does not reflect a complete end. It marks a temporary one. I feel like there is an unspoken "but" there that some don't pick up.

"This is where we go our separate ways, but..."

"This is where we go our separate ways for now."

Yes, they go separate ways when going about their jobs, but its important to note that despite these separate paths they take, they continue to reunite. Over and over.

hello!!!! my dear

yes, separate ways was always called another order in japan, that's also how data miners were able to find it.

another order also implies that it's just another way of doing things, whereas separate ways could just be interpreted as another way of doing the same things, which is clearly was og separate ways was, since there were many instances when playing ada that you can see leon in the background but it prohibits the player from seeing leon

"i can't let leon see me here"

i actually kind of hate the separate ways line, not because of the "angst" but because i hate whenever media does the whole marvel, we need to spell out something that's a thing that's coming

like we KNOW separate ways in another campaign..-

the people who think that ada is just fucking around during re4 (both) are SO FACTUALLY WRONG THAT IT MAKES ME LEGIT GO NUTS

separate ways is JUST ADA MAKING SURE LEON DOESN'T DIE

(let me be clear, her "having to do her job" does not supercede the fact that she DOES NOT NEED TO BE HELPING LEON. she is ACTIVELY CHOOSING TO HELP LEON) (this is more for people who do not understand how choices are made lol)

"This is where we go our separate ways for now."

this MAKES sense because they've written leon to be quite angry and resentful in re4r. like he's LEGIT ANGRY at so many things (which is fair) and i hate the argument that leon's depressed in re4r because of ada, BITCH DIDN'T EVEN KNOW SHE WAS ALIVE AT THAT MOMENT. he was depressed about raccoon, the government, the training. and then further into the future, the fact that his units ALWAYS END UP DYING AND HE IS LEFT AS THE LONE SURVIVOR. he has MASS amounts of survivors guilt from his family dying and him being orphaned.

but YES

leon and ada have specifically been written together for +25 years, even at capcom, they are paired together for things like menu items lmao.

re4 aeon has always been my least favourite aeon tbh, so that opinion has not really changed in re4r. re6 aeon will always be superior to me lol

#ask heart #heart answers #rambling anon #ada wong #leon s kennedy #aeon #leon kennedy #leon x ada #resident evil #leon kennedy x ada wong

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

or while I’m here talking: criston is SO interesting to me! he’s introduced very much as a trope as like the pretty knight. and it’s clear that rhaenyra chose to elevate him to kings guard simply because she found him hot lmao.

but he’s also seems to have developed kind of a hero’s worship for her? or at least in the showrunner’s words has been “carrying a torch” for her. like he’s so grateful to her— he’s not from a powerful house. and he’s said explicitly that her choosing him was the greatest, most unexpected honor. like pretty boy swagger aside, there’s a huge imbalance there. and I mean clearly she’s very pretty, and the princess, poised to inherit the crown. it’s all very glamorous, and he seems pretty taken with it all!

I have no idea where this plot is going, and I’m actively trying to avoid book spoilers, but just, at a glance, sleeping together seems to mean a very different thing to him than it means to her. and keeping in mind that he seems to, at least currently, take his position very seriously! not to mention the oath of celibacy lol. like sleeping with your charge, who is the unwed princess and who is also your employer/the only person whose goodwill got you your job when you’re not supposed to be sleeping with anyone at all is just… uh… very dangerous? just seems like a terrible idea if things go south in any slight way?? and we see just how conflicted and uncertain he is! the scene is super drawn out, there’s more focus on extended and delayed undressing than them actually having sex lol. it’s very plain he knows it’s a terrible idea too! he’s not blindly stumbling into calamity.

meanwhile rhaenyra’s… just in it for fun? and chiefly to get whatever the fuck happened with daemon earlier out of her system?? and to perhaps like privately get back at him for abandoning her— which def seems to be her perception of things, she seemed fairly bitter. so despite her fairly precarious situation in terms of marriageability and cultural expectations of a woman, she doesn’t seem like she stands to lose quite so much, or at the very least she doesn’t think she does.

idk I just think whatever goes on with criston next, (and I don’t expect it to be much, he has ancillary character vibes) it’s probably going to be tragic af and die immediately OR he goes insane and bitter lol. either way bad things are on the horizon and I’m fascinated.

#like idk I think hotd is doing a fairly elegant job in giving its characters A Lot to deal with in broad brush strokes #like I’m guessing criston barely fucking matters in the grander scheme but these few scenes are so much to chew on #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd spoilers #game of thrones #i ramble sometimes

[driftwoodskeleton]

WIP Whenever

was tagged by the wonderful @captastra and fabulous @the-lastcall recently-ish, sorry it's taken me a little while to get it done, i am feeling under the weather again :')

haven't got much on the go right now other than my Ghost fic, the drawing of Terzo, and some test thing im trying for Merryn, my new Warlock in Destiny 2. words and art below the cut:)

Far Away From the Stench of the Heavens:

After a little while more, Aether finally broke the silence, his voice back to normal again.

‘’So, yer Maj, you ever gonna explain to me exactly why you and Mountain decided to have the worlds most intense staring competition back there? Don’t tell me that lanky idiot is the Antichrist, because I will give up on everything if that’s the case.’’

You looked up at him in confusion, delicate features twisted as you tried to work out what he meant. You could hardly tell him that you’d once tried to kill his friend, not after he’d been so very kind to you. But at the same time, the thought of lying burned at your spirit like acid. You decided instead to give him a question of your own. If he told the truth, so would you.

‘’I don’t know. You ever gonna explain what exactly the deal is with you and Omega? Because there’s no way that kind of anger comes just from a stupid joke, none whatsoever.’’

You paused for a second, frowning thoughtfully.

‘’And why would it matter if Mountain was the Antichrist. How would I even know?’’

Aether gave you a strange look, like it was obvious how you would know, which only served to confuse you further.

‘’Alright then, keep your secrets, your Highness. I’m sure you’ll find out mine and Omegas after you’ve been here a little while, gossip is the preferred pastime of so many Siblings here, after all. As for the Antichrist thing, maybe I’m not the best guy to explain that to you. If we have time tonight, I’ll see about taking you to someone who can explain, deal?’’

You nodded, unsurprised by his unwillingness to explain the animosity, but also refusing to judge, seeing as you were doing the exact same thing.

Dead Woman Walking:

Merryn rolled her eyes, an exasperated sigh hissing its way from between those unearthly lips. Devrim shifted from one foot to the other slightly, uncomfortable. It felt like he was seeing something secret, that wasn't meant for the eyes of a mere human. The reluctant Guardian was talking again, tone dripping with fury. Despite his better judgement, Devrim couldn't help but listen.

''You think this is a blessing?? You think that I would ever choose something like this for myself, that I'd choose to be some awful puppet of that damn Traveler?! I don't give a damn how long you were looking for me, I want you to put me back! Go find someone else! I am not playing this fucking game, you worthless bundle of scrap metal!''

The Ghost was saying something in response, trying its best to sooth the furious Awoken, but it didn't seem to be working. In all his years at the Farm and just the EDZ in general, Devrim had never seen anyone react like this to becoming a Guardian. Sure, you got the odd one who was afraid, or confused, but never anyone actively furious to have been brought back. He wondered about the life Merryn had left behind. It must have been special, if she was this angry at losing it.

Though, now that he thought about it, didn't Guardians lose all memories of their pasts when they were brought back? To avoid this kind of thing? Something must have gone wrong then, if she remembered enough to be angry. Very wrong.

Terzo WIP:

mmm so blurry and unfinished. alas, artblock means he will go unfinished for a while yet:')

no pressure tags: @toyapandora @the-laridian @strangefable @purplehairsecretlair and anyone else with anything to share, consider this me tagging you too:)

#thank you for the tag! #wip whenever #the band ghost #ghost bc #terzo emeritus #destiny 2 #destiny warlock #ghost the band #papa emeritus iii #destiny awoken #my writing #my art #screencap redraw #destiny oc

[heavenfms]

Statistics

NAME: Atlas Page Simms

AGE: Twenty-Seven

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cismale, He/Him

FACE CLAIM: Charlie Rowe

EYE COLOR: Brown

HAIR COLOR: Brown

HEIGHT: 5'11"

DATE OF BIRTH:  February 28th, 1995

ZODIAC SIGN: Pisces

LEVEL OF EDUCATION: High School Equivalency

RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION: Agnostic

OCCUPATION: Songwriter/Guitarist

HOMETOWN: Brooklyn, New York, USA

NEIGHBORHOOD: The Drive

CHARACTER HISTORY (TW: DRUG ADDICTION/USE, BIPOLAR DISORDER, OVERDOSE, NSFW OVERALL)

PAST

Atlas was born to a hippie mother who's own parents attended Woodstock. His mother, an avid drug user and free love advocate had no idea who Atlas' father and never bothered to find out. She raised her son with hippie mindset and stressed the importance of being truly free. In addition to being a nontraditional mother, she would actively take drugs in front of her young son, telling him that once he was older he could do it as well. In her mind, she was the best mother she could be, but child protective services had different opinions of her mothering. Atlas was often taken from his mother, put into foster care and sent to live with foster families. Over and over, he'd tell the courts he'd rather be with his mother. This continuously happened through the years until finally he decided that he would emancipate himself at fourteen, so that he could choose to be with his mother without the government interfering in his life.

Despite his ostentatious mother, Atlas was a drawn in child, always being in touch with his softer, emotional side. His most precious memory is his mother bringing him home a ukulele for him to learn how to play music with and still to this day, his initial songs are written on that same ukulele, which he found out his mother had stolen for him. From a young age, Atlas has a propensity for music and songwriting and decided this was how he wanted to spend his future. His mother did all she could to facilitate his talent, letting him skip school for more creative ventures.

When he was sixteen, he had met some older guys from the neighborhood in a band and they recruited him as their new guitarist. When their band had been asked to open up for a larger band on tour they all jumped on the opportunity and Atlas dropped out of school to go on tour, his mother supporting his decision to go. Atlas felt like he was living the dream: no school, on tour doing what he loved without any supervision. While on tour, he met Vann and Halen Blackwell: two kids the same age as him, their father a roadie for the band. The three partied together as they grew up together in their teens and Vann became a good friends, hanging out, smoking while him and Halen and him did that and more.

There was something else between Halen and him, while there was hate between the two, there was a lot more. As two teenagers, they fought, they fucked (Atlas even lost his virginity to her), and they did drugs together. They were as dysfunctional as Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love, only as teens. Their relationship was as dichotomous as they come: they loved each other, they hated each other, they acted like they were dating, they acted like they were mortal enemies. The two pretended they didn't need each other, but inevitably they would end up back together. Each of them knew how much the other wanted to be wanted and they used that against each other, breaking things off and coming back together. One night of the tour, the pair joined one of the bigger bands in their tour bus and when Atlas and Halen were offered a speedball of heroin and cocaine, they said yes. The two didn't know that they would end up ODing. Atlas woke up in the hospital, without Halen and confused. Most of them who had taken those drugs that night ended up dead or with severe mental deficiencies, and luckily,  Atlas managed to come out unscathed.

Word got around that a kid under eighteen had OD and the tour was immediately shut down. Atlas blamed himself of course, but what he came to find out was that his own bands name was actually being discussed and by some miracle, they were able to get booked for other events and tours. Unfortunately for Atlas, he wouldn't see Halen again until he was twenty one. It was like the two had never parted and fell back into their old pattern, as they always did. However, when Vann and Halen decided to try be actual adults and go to school, he lost his tour friends and Atlas was alone once. Their fates were still intertwined and the two would reunite once more when Atlas played a show in Vancouver, where the twins were going to school and that night was the last time the two saw each other.

PRESENT

His life continued on tour and in record studios and he made a name for himself in the classic rock genre, winning countless awards and growing to new heights of fame, but it didn't stop the loneliness from creeping into his life. So the bad habits from his youth continued: the excessive drug and alcohol use, the anonymous public sex he would have with fans and the no fucks given attitude, all with a secret explanation he refused to acknowledge: bipolar disorder that was recently diagnosed, a condition he refuses to treat with anything other than illicit drugs. He still took cared for his mother, who was still an addict, and now he called himself one as well. Even if his professional career was on the uphill climb, his personal life was effected negatively: the heavy drug use had caused permanent damage to his ears, causing partial hearing loss. Eventually, it impacted his music.

He's been going mad with the sounds of the mainstream drivel he called his most recent albums and wanted to get back to his original sounds and songwriting. He told his bandmates he wanted to leave their record label and start fresh and whoever wanted to come could, but he was done. Finishing up the rest of his contract he was free and through another musician, he bonded and decided to join his band head to a more reclusive location to record his next album in Vancouver, Canada to record at Corner Brook recording studio, owned by someone he used to tour with.

#atlas: intro [my stories are told out of broken homes]

[thefanficmonster]

Power Couple

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Summary: Sean, Felix, Dave, and Joel welcome Corpse’s girlfriend to a game of Party Animals. It’s her first time playing and she has to deal with a lot more than just the controls and objectives - her boyfriend being a cute, cuddly sweetheart with ulterior motives to his clinginess.

Requested by @susceptible-but-siriusexual. Thank you so much for your request! Hope I captured what you wanted and how you wanted. Feel free to send any other requests you may have XOXO

It’s been one hell of a day. Had to correct twice as many documents as I was originally supposed to at work; found my car with a flat tire in the parking lot as I was about to go home; argued with my boss over the phone while stuck in a traffic jam. It’s been a rough twelve hours, but it has led me here and that’s what I’d rather think about.

By ‘here’ I mean I’m sitting on the couch in Corpse’s recording room, my computer in my lap, my screen displaying the screen to the game Party Animals. The suggestion was Corpse’s. He immediately picked up on my below par mood and wasted no time finding a solution to bright up the remainder of the day, shadowing the shitty portion of it. I am not what you would call a gamer. Sure I’ve played Among Us with Corpse and his friends a few times. Even that I struggle to do because I’m internally fangirling over all the people in the lobby. Yeah, dating a youtuber doesn’t mean you automatically stop gushing over the many content creators on the platform you’ve been watching for quite some time now. Corpse knows how nervous I get so he’s always near me when we play with Sean, Felix and the other. All he has to do is give me that encouraging smile and wink of his and I’m good to go. Side note: massive props to him for going easy on me in Among Us, getting teasingly called ‘simp’ by his friends in the process.

“You’ll love it.“ He promised me over and over again as the game was downloading on my computer.

“I don’t doubt that, Corpse. But I am going in completely blind and I seriously don’t wanna embarrass myself.“ I mumble a quick ‘nor you‘ under my breath, hoping he doesn’t catch it because I’m in for a pep talk if he does. 

To my dismay, he does, “Listen here, you couldn’t embarrass me even if you actively tried to do something outrageous. Most likely scenario, I’d join you in the act.” He ducks in front of the couch so we’re at eye level, his hand coming up to cup my cheek in the sweetest, most comforting gesture ever. “We’ll show em who’s the boss at stealing candy.”

I can’t help but laugh, feeling unable to express just how much this man means to me. Words can’t do the feeling justice.

“Y/N!“

“Y/N!!“

“Corpse Wife has arrived!“

Hearing all the greetings lights a flame in my chest, the warmth spreading all the way to my neck and cheeks. “Hi guys! Missed playing with you!”

“We missed you too!“ Dave, the only one of the gaming gang I’ve actually met in person, replies to me, his words along with all the others’ wrapping around me like a comfort blanket. Despite them knowing I’m a fan of theirs, they’ve always made me feel welcomed, comfortable, nothing less than them.

“You know anything about this game?“ Felix asks me.

I shake my head, almost forgetting he can’t see me, “Corpse told me it’s funny and cute. It sounds like the perfect game for me.” 

“Oh no, this is a game of survival. Survival of the fittest!“ Sean shouts excitedly, a bang following his shout I can only assume was him hitting his desk.

“I’d like to think I’m pretty fit.“ I shrug my shoulders, laughing along with the guys.

“This is the only way to find out if you actually are.“ Joel’s voice comes through my headphones in the form of a tease.

Sean mumbles quietly to himself as he’s deciding how to separate us in two teams. “Guys, a little help here. We all suck at this game, it doesn’t really matter who’s in which team.”

“Actually...“ Felix trails off, “Corpse and Y/N are the ultimate power couple in Among Us. Chances are they will be in this as well. So, the only logical move would be to...“

“I’m taking Y/N, you take Corpse.“ Sean declares. “Joel, Dave, who do you guys wanna be with?“

And the game starts. Sean, Joel and I are the Meowfia while Corpse, Felix and Dave are yet to choose a team name. We throw around snarky, cocky comments at each other, taunting the opposite team as we struggle to take the candy to our respective sides of the map.

“Don’t you dare pull that lever, Dave!“ I launch at Dave, knocking his cute avatar away from the lever, buying Joel and Sean some time to steal back the gummy bear Corpse and Felix took from us.

“Y/N! Joel is out! Help me!“ Sean is freaking out now. I ditch Dave’s unconscious body and run to Sean’s aid. 

As I’m helping him push it towards out area a member from the opposite team latches onto my avatar, weighing me down and hindering me from doing anything.

“Hug!“ Corpse laughs as he has literally turned into a koala, holding onto my avatar.

“Corpse, you know you are actually supposed to hinder Y/N, not hug her. It’s cute though, don’t get me wrong.“ Felix laughs as him and Sean continue to struggle over the gummy bear.

“Nah, his tactic’s great. I can’t do shit.“ I desperately try and shake him off, “Babe, this is unfair. I can’t even be mad at you!“ I whine, staring to panic now that Dave is back to life and Joel is nowhere to be seen.

The round is won by Felix, Dave and Corpse who, if I might add, didn’t let go of me for the rest of the game.

We switch maps, now every man for himself. We’re on the submarine, recreating the Hunger Games with cute fuzzy animals. The thought passes through my mind, causing me to giggle.

“Y/N, you sound exactly like I’d imagine your avatar to sound. You’re so cute.“ Sean’s avatar circles mine a few times as he laughs.

He’s not wrong, my pale blue puppy is indeed cute. Apparently immortal as well.

“How is Y/N still alive?! Holy shit, her and Corpse really are a power couple.“ Dave shrieks when he sees me pick up the freeze gun. “NOOO!“ He shouts, devastated by the fact I shot him, sending him straight to his death.

“Chill, Dave. It’s all cool. Nothing personal.“ I struggle to hide my laughter, “No hard feelings, right?“

“Of course not, love.“ I can tell he grits the sentence through clenched teeth.

“Aw Dave, you are such an ice guy.“ I giggle, now shooting Joel with the gun.

“Someone take that gun from her!“ Sean cries as him and Felix race up the submarine.

Suddenly, the avatar of my boyfriend again wraps itself around mine. I hadn’t seen him in a while, considering Sean knocked him into the ocean earlier in the round. 

“How are you still alive?!“ I try to spin my puppy to get him to let go but he holds on tightly. “Babe, I swear, you are cute and I love you, but this is ridiculous. How and why are you alive?”

“That’s his superpower! He never fucking dies.“ Felix laughs, letting out a yelp when he briefly slips while climbing.

“Immortals!!! Immortals!!!“ Sean breaks out into a song, a song I really like, breaking the restraints I had on my laughter.

“Drop the gun or we’re dying together.“ He says almost seriously. Even though I can only see the back of his head I know he’s grinning.

“A Titanic/Romeo and Juliet mashup? Why not? I can live with dying a double historical death.“ Even though I appear accepting of his offer, I’m still trying to set myself free.

In the end, Sean claims his first win of the game and the rest of us are dead at the bottom of the ocean. Corpse and I did indeed die a Romeo and Juliet/Titanic death, getting everyone in their feels. We make a deal to get together and play again as soon as possible and we all go our separate ways, exiting the Discord call.

*Later that night* 

After a dinner consisting of takeout and two thirds of a shitty romantic comedies, Corpse shifts from next to me, starting to get up from the couch. I am surprised to feel jolted out of a half sleep as the room is now completely silent, the TV being turned off.

“Hey where’re you going?“ I ask groggily, rubbing my sleepy eyes.

“I have some editing to do. Don’t worry, I won’t stay up too late.“ He kisses my forehead before grabbing his phone from the coffee table.

Just as he’s about to walk away, I wrap my arms around his legs. He laughs, catching onto what I’m insinuating. His chuckle brings a smile to my face and butterflies in my belly. No matter how long we date for or how much time we spend together, some things never change. 

“Payback, huh?“ He asks, the smile audible in the question. I keep my eyes shut but nod, my arms still around his legs. “Alright, you koala. You’re coming with me.”

In his recording room, he settles in his chair placing me in his lap in a way that my legs dangling off to the side, my side leaning against his chest, my face hidden in the crook of his neck. We’re both comfortable, content and relaxed.

I don’t know when exactly it happens, but all my mind has registered is a quiet ‘I love you’ and the soft touch of Corpse’s lips on my temple. I manage to reply with an ‘I love you too’ before my sleepiness consumes me, my body completely relaxing against his, the warmth of his body, his scent, the sound of his breathing making me feel safe and loved: the two feelings I want him to feel with the same intensity when I’m in his arms.

Something tells me he does.

@simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios  @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help

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[watchmegetobsessed]

Tastes Like Strawberries - Harry Styles

a/n: oh this one is a long boi and might not be the end??? i’ve been working on this fic for days and i have an idea for a possible second part, but i wrote this one so it has a fulfilling ending so it can stand as a oneshot as well! i barely just started working on the sequel, we’ll se how it’ll turn out, maybe it goes to shit lmao but whatever, it’s still a nice and whole story without a second part! this is my V-day gift to you all, have this nice professor!harry fic as if it was a box of chocolate! 🍓 🍫 🍬

special thanks to @pastequeharry​ who put up with my constant rambling and whining while i was writing this, you are a hero, his is dedicated to you!!

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

warning: sexual content, abusing relationship, it’s got smut, angst, lot’s of banter and all that jazz!

word count: 21.4k

masterlist

There’s just a handful of things to know about Professor Harry Styles and that’s because of one of those very few known facts, the first one being that he is a highly private person. He rarely talks about himself or any aspects of his life, he always makes sure to keep it as professional as possible whenever he is teaching.

Second, he is easily the smartest professor to ever walk on campus, but he doesn’t like to brag about it. You never catch him showing off how much he knows, how big of a genius he is, you’ll just start to realize from the way he teaches and approaches certain topics, how he interacts with others and tries to pass his knowledge down to his students. He is brilliant and he should have all the credits for it, yet he still chooses to keep it to himself.

Third, and it’s the most well-known fact because to see this you just need to have a pair of eyes, he is undeniably the most handsome man to ever teach or if you’re being more precise, walk the hallways of the university. No football crazy, alcoholic fratboy or dreamy looking indie guy from the library can live up to what Professor Harry Styles is. With a face clearly carved by the angels, a nicely built but not too muscular frame, and occasionally displayed tattooed arm that makes you wonder what other artworks his stylish outfits are hiding, there’s no man like him and every female on campus agrees with that.

His lectures and courses are jampacked with sighing and heart-eyed college girls, daydreaming about the man who is solemnly just trying to teach the things he is so passionate about. But it’s not just the students, Professor Styles has managed to charm the female professors of all faculties, you can see them wander by his office way too often, they take any opportunity to talk to the man and try to seduce him. It’s unknown if he is oblivious to the effect he has on women or he chooses to ignore every and any attempts, but this is what leads us to the fourth fact.

Despite all the effort and energy that’s been put into his case by every single woman on campus to break the walls the professor has built around himself, he never let any of his students or colleagues to even think they could be romantically linked for real. Professor Styles keeps his distance and turns down any offer that could be mistaken to anything that doesn’t fit in the professional boundaries.

Anytime a student puts on the slightest flirtatious act towards the professor, he either rejects it straight away or ignores it completely and blatantly, making it his clear answer that he is not interested and then he goes back to teaching. You’ve seen it yourself, having him as one of your professors first year of uni, you fell for him just like every other girl in the lecture hall, dreaming about him in ways you probably shouldn’t think of a teacher while he was just casually talking about his grading system and how he is going to build up the lectures throughout the semester. Some brave girls who you assume were highly celebrated by boys in high school took the courage to openly flirt with him, but he didn’t even flinch before shutting all attempts down, not even a blush appeared on his perfectly cut cheekbones.

You thought of ways you’d try to seduce him yourself, but you never actually tried. You never had the balls to actually give it a go and then suffer from the worst embarrassment of your life when he rejects you. So you kept it all to yourself, only entertaining yourself with your elaborate plans about the seduction of your professor.

Second year passed without any classes with Professor Styles, you had only occasionally seen him come and go, rushing down the hallways holding his notebooks to his chest, a steaming cup of coffee in his other hand as he was heading to his lecture hall that you just knew was filled with girls. You always took a moment to yourself to admire his outfit. He has a tendency to pair odd items and make them look like the most put together fit ever that only he can pull off. However, you and your girlfriends always loved to tease him between each other for his grandpa-like sweaters and vests he seemed to love dearly.

“He confuses me, because I want him to fuck me on his desk but also, I feel like he is about to ask me what periodt means because he is too old to understand slang these days,” your friend, Nat said once when your little group was lounging under the huge oak tree between classes and the professor rushed past you, disappearing in the building without paying any of you a look. He wore a pair of beige slacks and a striped sweater, a wrinkly grey shirt peeking from under it at the bottom. The colors and the style overall once again gave you that old people feeling, but then you looked at his handsome face and couldn’t care any less about whatever he was wearing.

The most intimate way you ever saw him was a few days after your twenty-first birthday the summer before your last year of uni started. You just got back from your hometown, the first person to arrive back to your shared flat with Nat and Eden, so you had a few days on your own. You decided to redecorate your room so you took a trip to IKEA, taking your time looking through the set up rooms, just wandering around as you try to figure out what you really want to buy. Walking through the living room section you spotted the professor and first, you didn’t even recognize him.

He was wearing a pair of bright yellow shorts and a short sleeved shirt with floral prints on it, a pair of white framed sunglass on top of his head, keeping his unruly strands out of his face as he was eyeing a couch, seemingly deep in his thoughts. You stopped in your tracks, seeing him in such a casual and everyday setting. For some reason, he seemed like a completely different person.

A woman was there with him and as you walked closer you could hear a fraction of their discussion.

“I don’t know, Gems. Do I need a couch this big?”

“Looks comfy and I like the color. It would also fit in the space just right, I think you should get the bigger one if you have the space for it,” the woman put her two cents in and you wondered who she could be. Girlfriend? Just a casual friend? Maybe fiancé? She did have a ring that could easily go as an engagement ring so you couldn’t tell for sure.

As you were about to walk past you suddenly took the courage to say hi.

“Hello, Professor Styles!” you greeted him with a warm smile and his eyes flickered over to you from the couch in question. One thing you always admired about him is that he never forgot the faces of his students and as he looked at you, you knew he recognized you even if he didn’t know your name specifically.

“Oh, hello,” he nodded in your way.

“I like the couch,” you commented before slowly moving on. “Have a nice rest of your summer!”

“You too, Y/N,” he called after you and it took you by surprise that he remembered your name. Your lecture he taught had almost over a hundred students in it and you weren’t the most active one to stand out that easily, yet he still remembered you more than you were expecting.

That small encounter kept you thinking about him for way longer than you probably should have, especially because you knew you’d have a lecture with him again in the upcoming semester. Your daydreams about him made their way back into your mind as you spent the last days of your summer mostly with your friends. It got you thinking that if you managed to get him to remember your name, maybe you would give one of your plans a go and shoot your shot. He wouldn’t be teaching you in your last semester so you wouldn’t have to face him after he rejects you.

And this is how you came up with your little scheme.

On your last Sunday evening before school starts, you, Nat and Eden sit in the floor of your living room, drinking some white wine as a way of saying goodbye to the carefree summer moments and getting back to the working days of being a senior at uni. Professor Styles came up completely randomly and you let it slip that you’ve just seen him recently at IKEA with a woman and it all led to you admitting that you’ll finally shoot your shot at the professor. Nat and Eden both did the same already, however their attempts were completely ignored and they always bugged you to give it a try yourself, being the only one in your group who hasn’t tried to seduce the professor yet.

“I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell me it’s stupid because I actually think it’ll be funny and a little bit genius,” you tell them before you start sharing the details on your plan.

“Just spill the beans already!” Eden pokes you before she reaches for the bottle and refills her glass.

“Okay, so you both know I took this psychology class last semester for extra credits, right?” The nod and you continue. “The teacher told us about this thing called classical conditioning or they call it pavlovian response too. The guy, Pavlov, did an experiment where he paired the feeding of dogs with a bell ring and after a certain amount of time the dogs started salivating at just the sound of the bell, because they remembered that it’s connected to food. The teacher said this is literally one of the easiest tricks to pull on people.”

“Oh, isn’t this one of the things Jim did on Dwight in The Office?” Nat asks furrowing her eyebrows.

“It is!” you nod, glad that they are understanding the base of your plan. “So, I’ve heard that Professor Styles loves strawberry flavored candies. I thought that I would bring some every day when I see him and offer him some. Slowly, he’ll pair the candy with the thought of me and he’ll get excited when he sees me because he’ll think I have candy for him and it will hopefully work the other way around and he’ll think of me when he is eating strawberry flavored candy that’s not from me.”

Your friends blink at you for a moment, processing what you just shared with them before Eden takes a huge sip of her drink.

“This is the most ridiculous but also the most genius thing I’ve ever heard,” she nods holding her glass up towards you.

“I can’t believe you will pull a psychological experiment on Professor Styles,” Nat shakes her head with a soft chuckle.

“It’s not a blunt way to get closer to him and if he accuses me of trying to flirt I can just say that I’ve been only sharing candy with him, I literally did nothing,” you point out, pretty proud of your solution to your deep fear of having to take his rejection publicly.

“If you get a Noble for this shit, make sure to thank us in your speech,” Eden laughs and you promise to do so when the big moment comes.

Monday morning you make a quick trip to Target and buy a big bag of strawberry flavored candies, probably enough to last for the whole semester, and then you make your way to campus. Following your first lecture you meet up with Eden who also signed up for Professor Styles’ lecture this semester, so the two of you make your way towards the lecture hall together.

“I really can’t believe you are doing this,” she chuckles when you get the candy ready as you near the room. The professor is always the first one in the lecture hall so you know you’ll find him there already.

“You can’t tell me it’s not a funny plan,” you smirk at her. And just as you walk in, you immediately spot the professor sitting at the desk at the front, going over the syllabus before the start. “Save a seat for me,” you tell Eden who just laughs and makes her way up the stairs along the desks.

Grabbing the pack of sweets from your bag you walk up to the professor, feeling confident with your plan. He lifts his head up when he notices your arrival and your eyes meet with his green ones.

“Hello, professor. Would you like some candy?” you simply ask with an innocent smile.

Professor Styles stares at you for a moment before his eyes move down to the candy in your hand, the opening of the bag facing him in a welcoming manner.

“I, uhh… what flavor?” he curiously asks and you can barely push down your smirk.

“Strawberry.”

“Oh. I’ll… take one, thank you,” he nods, hand reaching into the bag as he grabs just one single candy, unwrapping the package before he pops it into his mouth. “Thank you,” he nods again with a delightful smile.

“Of course. Did you buy the couch?” you ask, taking slow steps away from the desk as he keeps his eyes on you.

“I… did not. Bought another one,” he admits shortly and you know you’ve reached the limit. If you ask more, he’ll get suspicious, so you just nod smiling before walking up to the spot Eden has reserved for you. When you sit down, you catch the professor paying you one last glance before he returns to what he was previously doing.

“You are a genius, because now we can watch him suck on a fucking candy for the next few minutes,” Eden mumbles quietly, making you laugh.

“I knew this would be a good plan,” you sigh, satisfied with the work you’ve done. Now it’s just a matter of time.

Every Monday and Wednesday, you arrive with the same bag of candy to the lecture hall, walk up to Professor Styles and offer him one. And he always takes one. The first few times he seems hesitant when he spots you approaching him, but he slowly grows used to your tiny act of kindness that occurs every time you see him. On week three you expand the plan. You usually have lunch with Nat on Thursdays since you both have a break between one and two pm. The two of you try to take advantage of the warm early autumn days and sit under the pergola that’s near the building where Professor Styles’ office is as well. It’s mere coincidence, you only like that place because it’s close to the lecture hall you have to go to after lunch, but you notice that the professor emerges from Building C around one thirty, walking back to his office probably after one of his classes. The sidewalk runs directly next to the pergola so it gives you a chance to bring the candy out one more time every week. You nicely greet him when he is nearing the two of you and then hold out the bag, asking if he wants some. He always takes one and thanks you with a sweet smile that leaves you a tad bit blushed.

“I can’t fucking believe your plan is working,” Nat chuckles in disbelief on one occasion when the professor just disappeared in the building, probably happily unwrapping his candy of the day.

“It’s funny, innit?” you grin at her proudly.

Frankly, this is just a fun experiment for you. You don’t actually think that the professor will think of you differently even the slightest. You might be able to plant the thought of you in his head, but that doesn’t instantly mean that he’ll start fancying you and actually do something about it. It would be ridiculously naïve to think it’s going to be you who breaks through the wall that hundreds of women had already tried to knock down.

Week six is what brings the breakthrough. After long consideration and discussion with Nat and Eden, you decide to test if the experiment has been successful. You offer one last candy on Monday, but Wednesday brings the change. You go to lecture without candy. Well, you have it on you, but you decide not to ask him if he wants some.

Walking into the lecture hall, as always, he is already sitting at his desk, flipping through the pages of a book when you walk up to him with the intention of asking him a question on the paper that’s due next week.

“Professor Styles?” you softly speak up, catching his attention. “Can I have a question about the paper?”

“Of course,” he nods and you can’t tell just yet if he was expecting the candy or not.

“I was wondering if I can use a diagram to visualize my results at the end. I have a brilliant idea to summarize the data with one.”

“Sure, just make sure to give credit wherever it’s due, if you are using someone else’s work for the diagram.”

“Definitely,” you smile at him and wait a moment. That’s where you see the anticipation in his eyes.

His gaze flickers down to your hands and then to your bag where you always carry the candy and when his eyes meet yours again, you see him swallow hard.

He was expecting the candy. Not only expecting, but he started salivating when he saw you, thinking that he would get the candy from you as always.

“Is… that all?” he asks, the slightest hint of hope appearing in his tone, probably waiting for you to pull the bag of candy out of your bag and offer him one. But it’s not happening today.

“Yes, thank you very much,” you nod smiling widely before you turn around and walk away, a shocked and triumphant look appearing on your face once he can’t see it anymore and when Eden sees you, she gasps.

“He fucking expected the candy, didn’t he?!” she whispers at you in shock and you nod frantically, still not believing your plan worked.

“You should have seen the anticipation in his eyes, he really thought I was gonna offer him some!”

“Oh my God, this is hilarious!” Eden laughs covering her mouth as the lecture hall starts to fill up slowly.

Turning forward, you see that the professor is sitting behind his desk, the book that had his attention before your arrival is long forgotten in front of him, now he is staring ahead of him with slightly furrowed eyebrows, deep in his thoughts.

Is he thinking about you? Or why he was expecting candy from you?

You see him reach for his water bottle and he takes two big gulps probably to wash away his need for the candy before he narrows his eyes and at last they find you in the auditorium. You tilt your head to the side innocently smiling, as if you know absolutely nothing about anything. You keep eye-contact, forcing you not to be the one who breaks it and he is intimidating. You feel like he can read your mind as he stares at you and when he finally turns his gaze back at the book, you exhale sharply.

The lecture goes down just as usual and when the professor dismisses the class you decide to put the cherry to the top. Walking down between the desks you grab a candy from your bag and while the professor is talking to a girl who also had a question about the paper, you place the candy to his desk next to his book. He doesn’t see you walk out and you don’t see him when he finds it, but something is telling you he figured you out. No way a man as smart as him doesn’t realize what game you’ve been playing with him.

Sitting under the pergola on Thursday you are deep in discussion with Nat, helping her with a task sheet she has to turn in after lunch but she completely forgot about it. As the two of you are trying to do the seemingly endless sheet, you don’t even notice the professor walking from Building C, as always, but he spots you.

“No, I don’t think that’s even a thing, you can’t write that,” you tell Nat, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t care if it’s a thing, I just want to fill in the whole thing so the teacher doesn’t think I finished it in twenty minutes before class,” she mumbles, scribbling down her answer as you just chuckle at her.

Suddenly, you see a pair of dusty Vans appear in your sight and as your eyes move up, you are facing none other than Professor Styles, standing right in front of you, holding out his hand with his hand turned upwards, a cheeky smile tugging on his lips. His appearance takes you by surprise and for a moment you just dumbly stare down at his palm, then up at his eyes.

“Very smart. Pulling a pavlovian on me with my favorite candy,” he speaks up, dropping his hand as he cocks his head to the side. Nat looks up from her sheet with wide eyes as you stare at the professor with blushing cheeks.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, professor,” you tell him with a knowing smirk.

“Of course. You know, it took me a moment to realize yesterday, but I wanted to let you know that… I think it was clever.”

“If I knew anything about what you’re talking about… I would say thank you. But I stand up for my innocence.”

“Surely,” he chuckles softy. “Have a great rest of your week,” he then nods before turning around to walk away, but you quickly reach into your bag and grab a candy.

“Professor Styles!” you call out and he turns back just in time to catch the candy you throw in his way. He glances at it in his palm before his eyes snap up to you again, smirking at you shortly before he disappears in the building.

“Okay, call me stupid, but I could feel the sexual tension between the two of you,” Nat says as soon as the professor is out of sight.

“Don’t be silly, it was just… a joke and he liked it.”

“He called you clever, Y/N!”

“No, he called my trick clever.”

“But you came up with it so you’re clever too. Say whatever you want, but I actually think you have a shot at him.”

“I definitely don’t,” you laugh shaking your head and you genuinely believe it. Nat scoffs before she gets back to her sheet, but not without having one last thought about the situation.

“We’ll be laughing at how you brainwashed him into liking you when you’ll be dating for years, living together and all that shit.”

You’ve made some very questionable choices in your dating life prior. Like when you dated a boy in high school and let him take your virginity at the back of his mom’s minivan just to break up with your right after that, or when you briefly dated the guy you met at the mall, but it later turned out he was gay and he used you as his cover up in front of his family. But the worst decision of all was dating an egoistic forty years old loser who just freshly got divorced and went after you at some tacky bar you were at with your friends.

The time you spent dating Victor is way less than the time he has been bothering you, trying to make you go back to him when you’ve actually told him you don’t want anything to do with him anymore. You broke up with him just before you went home for the summer and he didn’t take it well, even drove up to your hometown and showed up at your parents’ house drunk, begging for you to take him back. He never stood a chance, not after that one time he slapped you across the face during a fight the two of you had. You tolerate a lot of things but not violence and you don’t believe him when he says it was just a onetime thing. There’s no guarantee he won’t hit you ever again and you are definitely not waiting around to see if he told you the truth.

On this particular late October evening you are searching through your whole room looking for a book you know you have, but can’t seem to find anywhere. It’s your holy bible about research methodology and you need it for your thesis work, but it seems like the small apartment has completely swallowed it.

“Didn’t you leave it at Victor’s? You were working on that long essay when you were dating him, saw you use the book all the time,” Eden tells you when you ask her if she’s seen it anywhere and then it clicks.

She is right, now you remember leaving the book at his once and you completely forgot to pick it up after things got nasty between the two of you.

“Damn it,” you growl in annoyance.

Not feeling like calling him, you send him a quick text, hoping he still has it and hasn’t burned it after one of your fights.

Y/N: Hey, I think I left my research methodology book at yours. You still have it?

Victor: I do.

Y/N: Cool, can I drop by to pick it up?

Victor: I’m leaving for work, you can come to the bar if you want it.

You sigh in defeat. Victor is a bartender at a place that’s all the way across town, takes almost an entire hour to get there, but you are left with no other choice.

Y/N: Okay, I’ll see you there.

The raining has finally stopped this morning so you feel better leaving the house than you would have if it was still pouring. You take the bus and travel across town, feeling anxious to see Victor again. Last time you met him he cursed you out and threw his phone at you, barely missing your head. You promised yourself you wouldn’t go near him again after that, but it seems like you can never get completely rid of him.

Students rarely come to this part of the town, it’s way too far from campus and has nothing to offer that can’t be found closer to the dormitories or the school’s buildings. It’s not entirely your scene either, the bars around here are liked by older generations, not by people your age, this is another reason why you don’t like coming around here.

The bar where Victor works is a place where they have different local bands perform every Friday and Saturday. It’s not a tacky nook with creepy dudes, they actually have prices on the higher end, not something you can necessarily afford with your part time job’s paycheck from the small accounting office near your apartment where you work as an assistant on your free afternoons.

Walking into the place you immediately spot Victor behind the bar and you take a deep breath before you walk up to him.

“Hey,” you call out for him, taking one of the stools along the bar.

“Hey. Long time no see.”

“Happens when you break up with someone,” you respond with a little spice and he frowns at your words. “Can you give me the book?”

“I’ll have a break in ten, can you wait for that or you have something extra urgent shit to do, as always?” You can tell he is still bitter from how things ended between the two of you, but you’ve learned not to care about it. His way of dealing with the breakup is not your responsibility, no matter how hard he is trying to prove it wrong.

You roll your eyes but nod, knowing well there’s no use to fight him. Ten minutes is not the end of the world. Busying yourself on your phone, you try to stay unnoticed and luckily, Victor can’t keep chatting with you, because customers keep coming up to him and ordering drinks. When he finally has his break he tells you to follow him to the back.

“So how have you been?” he asks as you walk down the hallway that leads to the small break room, there’s an office at the end and some kind of changing room you guess for the bands, along with a storage.

“Fine.”

“You really gonna be a bitter bitch and not talk to me?” he asks you, giving you a disgusted look, but you know it’s just the anger talking from him.

“Victor, I didn’t come here to talk, I just need my book!”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t answer my question.”

“I answered it! I’ve been fine, now give me the damn book!” you growl, losing your patience with him, but he is seemingly in the same shoes.

“When will you stop being a bitch and just drop this ridiculous act, Y/N? I’ve been after you for months yet you keep ignoring me!”

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m ignoring you because I don’t want anything to do with you? Victor, it’s been months, just… move the fuck on! Go cry to your ex-wife or something, I don’t care!”

You didn’t mean to snap, but he always brings the worst out of you. From the corner of your eyes you can see movement at the other end of the hallway where the changing room is, but you don’t get to pay much attention to it, because the next moment Victor grabs you by your arm and yanks you towards him.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that! You ungrateful slut, I swear…”

There’s little you can do, he is twice as big as you are, his grip on your arm so strong there’s no doubt it will leave a mark. Your heart is racing as you try to pull yourself out of his hold, but he doesn’t even bat an eye at your attempt.

However, before he could drag you into the empty breakroom to do god knows what, he is stopped by a voice.

“Hey! Let her go!”

If you weren’t shocked enough at his violent reaction, now you are definitely think you’re going nuts, because it’s none other than Professor Styles who is now nearing you with a hard expression on his face, two other guys following right behind him and though none of them are bigger than Victor, he knows he can’t just start a fight with three men.

Your chest is heaving when the professor finally reaches you and Victor’s hold lets go of you, making you fall back a little.

“You perform here twice and think you’re some kind of rockstar?” Victor spats at the professor, but you’re a little lost in what’s really going on. Professor Styles gently grabs your wrist and pulls you behind him, eyes never leaving Victor’s burning gaze.

“You alright?” one of the other two men asks and you nod, not finding your voice to actually speak.

“Get the hell out of my sight before I call the police on you,” the professor answers in a calm yet threatening voice

Victor takes a second to himself, thinking about the choices he has before he turns around and disappears in the breakroom, slamming the door behind him, leaving you in complete shock about what just happened.

Professor Styles then turns around, his eyes soften at seeing how shaken you are and quite frankly, you feel like you are in a bad and quite weird dream.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asks, clearly worried about you and you just shake your head no.

“I-I’m fine, I think,” you mumble out of breath.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” the guy who asked if you’re alright suggests and you nod in agreement, following them kind of blindly, the three of them keeping you in their little circle as you walk out to the bar and they don’t stop until you are out of the place in the cold night air. You slowly come back to reality and process that Professor Styles just saved you out of fucking nowhere from your abusive asshole ex. That’s what you call a plot twist.

You finally take a moment to look at the other two guys, they both look the same age as the professor, or maybe a little older, both of them are rocking some facial hair, the one that asked you seems a little more open while the other one quite reserved but friendly looking.

“What… What were you doing back there?” you ask, turning to face the professor. He clearly seems upset, but you’re not sure if it’s entirely because of what happened with Victor back then or because you are standing outside some random bar on a Saturday night, definitely crossing his personal boundaries he keeps so high at school.

“We played here tonight, was just about to leave when I saw you.”

“You have a band?” you ask, shocked at the detail.

“A pretty good one,” the talkative guy chuckles. “I’m Adam, nice to meet you. This is Mitch.”

You shake hands with them introducing yourself as well.

“Y/N is… my student,” the professor adds as if he is clearing the air for his bandmates, a kind of warning for them.

From the direction of the parking lot two women emerge, laughing on something as they walk up to the four of you, both of them eyeing you curiously.

“Hey boys, who is this pretty girl?”

“Sarah, Charlotte, this is Y/N, she is my student. Y/N, these are my other band mates, Sarah and Charlotte,” the professor introduces you as you shake hands with them quickly.

“I-I’m sorry I interrupted your time with your friends, professor,” you shyly apologize, feeling like a complete intruder all of a sudden with all his bandmates around you.

“Interrupt? Sweetheart, that dude was about to do some unforgivable things to you, don’t apologize for needing help,” Adam snorts. “You’re lucky we were there.”

“What? What happened?” Sarah asks in confusion.

“Just… my asshole ex got a little too violent when I didn’t want to chit-chat with him,” you admit with a defeated sigh.

“Oh shit, but are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you smile faintly, though you still can feel his grip on your upper arm. “I, um… I better get going, I guess. Thank you for… the saving,” you say, a little lost about what should be said in this situation.

“You’re leaving? We were just about to go to a much better place, why don’t you come with us, forget about your ex a little?” Charlotte offers and you catch the professor’s panicked look for a split second.

“I, um… I don’t think I should, but thank you.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” Sarah questions.

“Because I know how Professor Styles hates to mingle with students outside of lectures and I don’t want to cross any lines,” you truthfully admit. The professor furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t hate mingling with students,” he states.

“Well, you are surely not the most reachable professor on campus,” you chuckle lightly. “But it’s fine, I understand it. So I’ll just head home.”

“Come on, Harry. Let her tag along for just one drink!” Sarah begs and seemingly everyone would be happy to have you join for a little. The professor’s eyes meet yours, as if he is contemplating whether he should say yes or let you go home. When he finally speaks up you’re more surprised than when you realized it was him saving you from Victor.

“I guess you could use a drink after what happened in there,” he says, the tiniest smirk showing on his lips as your eyes shoot up.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, come on,” he nods and your little group heads down the street.

Turns out the place they were heading to was just two corners down, so they left all their stuff at the minivan at the parking lot for the time being. You slide into an empty booth, Adam and Mitch go to get the first round, so it’s just the three of you girls and the professor.

“So you’re in one of Harry’s lectures?” Charlotte asks with a warm smile.

“Yeah, for the second time, actually. Had him in first year, now it’s my fifth semester and I had no doubt I have to take his class if I have the chance.” You pay a glance at him, but he is staring at his hands on his lap, you can’t tell if it’s because he is uncomfortable with you there or if it’s something else.

“It’s so funny, because we’ve heard that he is known to be a good teacher but we never actually heard it from one of his students,” Sarah chuckles. “What’s he like?”

“Sarah, you enjoy talking about me when I’m very much present?” he scoffs, giving her a look, but she just shrugs innocently.

“Come on, I bet even you’re curious about what your students think of you. Now is your time to find it out!”

“I think Professor Styles knows very well that he is one of the best, if not the actual best,” you truthfully say and see him raise his eyebrows a little.

“What makes him so good?” Charlotte questions.

You glance at him again, as a way of asking for permission if you can answer. You definitely don’t want to make him even more uncomfortable by talking about him when he is right next to you. He looks into your eyes, and his expression tells you that he wants to hear your answer as well, but he quickly adds:

“You don’t have to answer, Y/N.”

“It’s not a secret,” you admit it with a smile. “Professor Styles’ lectures always leave you with a question to think about until next week, he is great at getting into your head without you even noticing. He explains the most complicated things in so simple ways, it should be taught,” you say with a soft chuckle. “I think his enormous knowledge about many different fields in science and just life in general is amusing, anyone can learn something from him, it’s guaranteed.”

“Wow, where is this academic genius side of yours when you’re around us, or we only get to see the dad joke version of you?” Sarah teases him and you can’t push down a laugh, imagining him cracking dad jokes feels so alien but still kind of fitting for him.

“That’s what you get when you’re a nosy little thing,” he retorts with a small smirk. He then turns to you, and as Sarah and Charlotte are laughing on something, he lowly tells you: “You can call me Harry outside of school. Feels weird that you call me professor when my friends are around.”

“You sure?”

He nods and you spot a small smile on his lips. He must be getting used to the feel of you being there, but you still don’t want to push his limits too much.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions, leaning back in his seat.

“Of course.”

“If your ex is this aggressive, why were you there with him?”

His question is surprising, you didn’t think he would ask you something personal, but you guess it’s a valid question after he just saved you from Victor.

“I wanted to get a book back that I left at his place. Didn’t even get to the point where he could have given it back,” you mumble under your breath.

“What book?”

“Just this… research methodology book, wanted it back for my thesis work, but I guess I’ll have to buy a new one,” you huff bitterly.

“Is it the one written by William Scott?”

“Y-Yeah, it is. You know it?” you ask, but then realize it’s a bit of a dumb question. He probably knows every academically important book you will ever come across.

“I actually have it myself,” he nods. Just then, Mitch and Adam return with the drinks and you thank them for the beer, already reaching for your money to pay, but Adam shakes his head.

“It’s on me, don’t worry.”

You watch as Mitch sits beside Sarah, curling an arm around her shoulders and though you couldn’t have guessed that they are a couple, seeing them like this it actually makes sense, they look cute together.

You take a sip from your beer, trying to join the conversation Sarah and Charlotte are having, when your attention is pulled back by Harry.

“I can… lend you the book, if you want.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. I’ll just get a new one.”

“No, really. I think I even have two copies, I can give one to you.”

“I couldn’t ask you that, prof—I mean Harry.”

“You’re not asking,” he smiles at you softly. “I probably won’t need both, so why not put the extra into use?”

“Okay, but I’ll pay for it,” you insist, but Harry shakes his head.

“No need, one of them was a gift so I didn’t pay for it either.”

“Well… if you’re sure about it, I would love to have that extra copy, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So Y/N, what do you study exactly?” Adam questions, pulling you out of your little discussion with Harry.

“I’m majoring in anthropology, but I’ve been taking some psychology classes on the side just because I’m interested in the topics.”

“And what is Harry teaching you?”

“Had him for intro Sociology lecture first year, now I’m in his Methodology of Cultural Anthropology class.”

“All these subjects with their GY endings, I don’t know how you two put up with science on this level,” Sarah huffs in amusement.

“The names sometimes sound fancier than the subject itself,” you tell her smiling.

“But I bet you need to be quite smart to study these stuff on this level you are at.”

“Oh, it’s just a bachelorette degree, I wouldn’t say I’m that smart,” you chuckle shyly.

“She is totally toning it down,” Harry speaks up, catching everyone’s attention. “I know students tend to take my into Sociology class for just some extra credits so I always give them two options for the semester. They can either write a two pages long review of any article related to the topics talked about at lecture and get their strong C with the bare minimum, or actually participate and do a research of their own and turn in an at least seven pages long essay about their chosen topic. Y/N turned in an eleven pages long paper on the history of death sentences in the U.S. in the last fifty years and how society is thinking about it nowadays. It was easily one of the best works I’ve ever read and it was just an intro class.”

“You remember my essay?” you ask in complete shock.

“Of course. As I said, one of the bests I’ve read,” he nods confidently.

“So you’re like… on Harry’s smart level, actually?” Sarah asks, tilting her head to the side and you can feel yourself blushing.

You’ve always been said to be the smart kid at school, but you never thought it to be true yourself. In your book, you were just doing your absolute best, soaking in whatever knowledge was thrown in your way. You never actually understood how someone could just not study for an exam or not do an assignment, because you always felt like it was your duty to do the best you can. You thought yourself to be more of a hard-working student rather than a smart one.

“She is definitely a bright one,” Harry agrees, his eyes meeting yours as a small smile appears on his lips and you think that this is the biggest compliment you’ve ever gotten. “She actually tricked me with a psychological experiment and I didn’t even realize it,” he laughs and you can’t hold your smirk back.

“What? What did you do?” Charlotte asks, dying to know how you played Harry.

“Have you heard of the Pavlovian response?” you ask looking around and you can tell it rings a bell for all of them.

“The one with the dogs and the bell?” Mitch asks and you nod.

“Wait you did that on Harry?” Adam laughs with wide eyes and you just nod with a sly smile.

“I just offered him strawberry flavored candies every time I saw him. Took me six weeks to build up the response but he actually started expecting it whenever he saw me,” you tell them chuckling to yourself.

“And I only realized it when she stopped with the candy and I felt this massive feeling that something was missing,” Harry adds shaking his head with a soft laugh.

“Okay, that’s hilarious,” Sarah snorts clapping her hands together. “Y/N, I adore you, you’re brilliant!”

“It was just… an experiment,” you shrug shyly.

The night carries much faster than you realize. One drink turns into three and before you could realize, it’s already past midnight. Eden texts you, asking where you are since you said you’d just get the book and go home right away, but it’s been hours.

Y/N: Don’t freak out, but I’m at a bar with Prof. Styles and his friends. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow!

Eden: HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME NOT TO FREAK OUT AFTER READING THIS???!?!

Y/N: Lol, chill. Nothing extra is happening.

Eden: It’s already extra that you’re out with him.

Realizing how late it is, you decide you better get going, since it’s a long way back home. When you tell the little group that you’re about to head out, they all agree that it’s time to part ways and leave, so you all slowly make your way back to the parking lot.

“Do you know where the bus stop is back?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, trying to spot where you should be heading.

“You want to go home by bus at this time?” Harry asks.

“Well, I surely won’t pay for a ride, I live almost an hour away from here.”

“An hour?” he frowns. “I’ll take you home, come on,” he tells you, heading towards the minivan.

“What? No need. The bus is fine,” you protest, but he shakes his head.

“You are not taking the bus at this hour, not under my watch,” he simply states and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Didn’t realize I was under your watch,” you tease him and it seems like your comment caught him off-guard. “Don’t piss your pants, I was just joking,” you tell him, and thought for a second you feel like you are being way too comfortable around him, his smile quickly smashes your doubts.

Sarah, Mitch and Charlotte all take an Uber since they live near each other and Adam is picked up by his wife, so when everyone is off to their own way, you and Harry get in the van and head to your place.

“How long have you had the band?” you ask, in need to break the silence that’s been weighing down on the two of you. “If you don’t mind me asking,” you add quickly when you see him.

“About four years. Used to have another one, but we parted ways.”

“And what do you do in the band?”

“I, uhh… Well I mostly sing but I also play the guitar.”

“You know, I’m not that surprised you can sing,” you chuckle to yourself sinking further down in your seat.

“How come?”

“You have a voice that’s great to listen to at lectures, makes sense that you can sing as well.”

You take a moment to look at his hand that’s gripping the steering wheel, he is the kind that drives with one hand on the wheel, the other one on the shifting gear. He makes it look so easy as he steers the wheel whenever he is turning a corner while his other one easily moves around the shifting gear, his tattoos are peeking from under his rolled up shirt sleeve. He catches you staring and you feel a blush burning on your cheeks as you turn your head to the other side. Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk that third beer…

“Am I really seen that rigid by the students?” he speaks up after a while and you turn back to face him.

“What do you mean?”

“You said I’m known about not mingling with students.”

“Well, you don’t mingle, do you? But it doesn’t mean you come off as rigid. More like… closed-off. Private.”

“I know I should be a little friendlier, but I just…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, I think everyone gets it why you’re like that.”

“Do they?” he arches an eyebrow.

“Well, you’re obviously a ladies’ favorite, but it doesn’t sit well with you being a person of some sort of power. It’s clear that you don’t want anyone to get the wrong picture about you. I’ve seen how bluntly girls are flirting with you, some of them are quite scandalous if you ask me,” you huff to yourself. “I totally get it that you don’t want even just a rumor to spread about you.”

“Didn’t think I was that obvious,” he admits, running his tongue over his lips.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re still a highly fancied professor, in all means,” you tell him with a warm smile.

“Does this mean you also fancy me?” he suddenly questions and your lips part at his words. He quickly realizes how ambiguous he just sounded. “I mean, am I one of your favorites? Where do I stand in your chart of professors?”

You can’t tell for sure because of the lack of lighting, but you could have sworn there’s a light blush on his cheeks as he corrects himself. Because of this, you don’t know for sure if he really meant it academically. Either way, the answer is the same.

“You’re my favorite,” you confidently state and your eyes meet for a moment before he turns back to face the road.

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet, you keep giving him directions to your place until you finally arrive a little before one am.

“Well, thank you for the ride,” you smile at him, grabbing the door handle.

“See you on Monday,” he nods shortly and watches as you get out of the can.

“Yeah, see you, professor,” you smirk before shutting the door and walking up the stairs and disappearing in your building.

“Was that Professor Styles in the fucking minivan?!” Nat throws the question at you the moment you open the front door.

“Jesus, why are you still up?” you sigh, shutting the door and shimmying yourself out of your coat.

“Because we were waiting for you!” Eden rolls her eyes. “So, care to tell us what the fuck just happened?” The three of you get comfortable on the couch and you give them a quick rundown of your evening from meeting Victor through being saved by Harry right to him offering to drive you home and they listen to you with wide eyes in complete shock that you just spent your entire evening with the most handsome professor on campus who also happens to be the most private as well.

“If I didn’t see him sitting in that van with my own eyes I would straight up think you’re lying, but I saw his tattooed hand over the windshield,” Nat gasps, processing the story.

“I know, I still feel like it didn’t happen, but it did.”

“And what is he like around his friends? What are his friends like?” Eden questions, hugging her knees to her chest.

“He is pretty much just like in lecture, just jokes a little more and he has a looser vocab. His friends are hilarious, I really got along with Sarah.”

“I know you still think it won’t happen, but I actually think you have a shot at him, Y/N,” Eden points it out and you just chuckle.

“Why, because he saved me from my douche ex?”

“No, because he let you stay for the night with him and his friends. This is literally the first ever time a student hung out with him.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Harry is a reserved and private person—“

“Harry?!” they gasp at the same time.

“You are now just casually calling him Harry?” Nat asks with ogling eyes.

“Well, yes, he asked me to, because it felt weird that I was calling him Professor Styles with his friends around.”

“Okay, I’m giving it… let’s say, he seems to be moving pretty slow, but y’all will be fucking in about six months,” Nat bluntly tells you and it makes you laugh.

“Oh, sure, whatever. I’m gonna shower and head to bed, you two don’t get too crazy with your fairytales,” you wave at them before disappearing in the bathroom.

The rest of the weekend goes by uneventfully, outside of the pathetic attempt from Victor to get you to talk to him, but you’ve had enough of him for a life so you finally block his number and hope you won’t ever see him again.

Both you and Eden oversleep on Monday morning, skipping your early morning lecture and already being late for Harry’s class as well, so you barely make it to Harry’s class in time, just sprinting up the rows, flopping down to your usual seats when Harry starts the lecture. It all goes as usual as if nothing really happened during the weekend, Harry doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. Glancing over at his desk you spot the book he promised you and you can’t hold your smile back. Still grinning, your eyes accidentally meet with his gaze and he stops for a heartbeat as if he is questioning why you are so smiley, but you just shake your head and he carries on before anyone could suspect a thing.

“I gotta run, my favorite TA is having his office hours now and I have a few questions for him. See you at home?” Eden asks once the lecture is over and you are getting ready to leave.

“Sure, have a good day!” you call after her and she sings a ‘you too!’ before running out of the room.

You pack up and head down between the rows, Harry spotting you right away and you go up to him without him even asking you to.

“Hey, sorry we were a little late to class this morning,” you tell him and he just shakes his head kindly.

“No worries. How… is your arm?” He furrows his eyebrows, his gaze wandering down to your forearm where Victor grabbed you on Saturday.

“Oh, it’s fine. I just have a little bruise,” you shrug, because it really isn’t that big deal, but you can tell Harry is still outraged by what happened.

“M’sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. Would be worse if you weren’t there,” you smile at him kindly and he nods to himself before turning to his desk.

“I, uhh, I brought the book we talked about,” he shyly says grabbing it from the desk. As people are exiting the room you can feel the glares on yourself, most of them are probably trying to figure out why Harry is talking to you for so long, but you don’t pay much attention to them as you take the book he hands you.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pay for it?”

“No need, keep it, it’s yours,” he shakes his head with a small smile.

“Thank you then.” You slide the book into your bag before looking back up at him. “Well, I’ll see you on Wednesday, professor,” you smile warmly before heading out.

“See you!” he calls after you before you close the door behind you.

The week carries on as usual, you are working on papers that needs to be turned in before the fall break so you spend some extra time at the library, using every bit of free time you have so you finish everything on time.

Things go back to kind of normal with Harry, he greets you in the mornings when you walk into the lecture hall and other than the warm smile he occasionally gives you, nothing has changed.

Friday however brings a surprise, but not from Harry. You’re sitting at work in the afternoon, typing away on your computer, filling in some sheets when you get a notification on your phone from Instagram.

Sarah Jones is now following you!

You tap on her profile but see that it’s private so without a second thought you request following. Luckily, she approves you only a few seconds later and you gain access to her posts, quite a few of them featuring Harry on them.

Photos of birthdays, weekend getaways, band practices and performances, Harry makes a lot of appearances on her feed and you find yourself scrolling all the way down until you reach the first few posts from 2016. Just as you are about to leave her profile you get a message from her.

Sarah: Hey Y/N! Charlotte and I’ve been talking about you recently, loved having you with us last Saturday! Want to grab a drink with the two of us this weekend?

Y/N: Would love to, but I’m not sure Harry would like the idea…

Sarah: He won’t be there and besides, who is he to tell you who you can and can’t hang out with?

She is right. You enjoyed spending time with them as well and Harry has little to no word in if you want to meet up with his friends or not. This invitation has no connection to him being your professor.

Y/N: Alright, I’m down!

 This is how your friendship with Sarah and Charlotte starts. You meet up with them on Saturday and have an amazing time, they are definitely fun people to spend time with and though at first you feel hesitant to get closer to them, you soon forget about your doubts and just enjoy your time with them.

Your little girls night goes so well that they invite you out for dinner on Wednesday with Mitch joining the little trio. You learn that he is a quiet but hilarious guy, he and Sarah make a great couple, you think.

“We have a gig this Saturday at Green Light, want to come?” Charlotte asks at the end of the dinner.

“Okay, I really don’t think Harry would be a fan of that idea,” you point out, feeling like it’s surely over the lines. He still doesn’t know about you meeting some of his friends without him and you’re not sure how he would react if he did.

“Harry can fuck off, not everything is about him. We are inviting you as our friends, he just happens to be in the band as well,” Sarah rolls her eyes, clearly not as bothered by the situation as you are.

“I just don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“He is a big boy, he’ll get himself over it, don’t worry. So, are you coming?”

“I guess, alright,” you nod with a soft chuckle.

 Next week you contemplate telling Harry that Sarah invited you out for their gig, but at last you decide against it, something is telling you he would try to talk you down and now you’re pretty hyped to see them perform. So you keep quiet and just brace yourself for the worst when Saturday comes.

You don’t overdress for the occasion, decide to wear some light washed mom jeans and a simple sweater tucked into it, a casual look for a night out.

Even when you’re on your way to the place you are having second guesses whether it’s a good idea or not, but you tell yourself it’s not that big of a deal and if Harry flips, you’ll just tell him you came for Sarah and Charlotte.

As you get off the bus and walk towards the place, you immediately spot the little group of three next to Harry’s minivan, Sarah waving in your way as you become visible in the streetlights.

“There she is!” she beams happily and you just chuckle at her.

Harry is standing with his back facing your way but seeing Sarah’s reaction he turns around and you swear for a moment you think he is about to faint when he spots you.

“Hey everyone,” you smile as Sarah pulls you into a hug and Charlotte does the same.

“Hey, if it isn’t our little trouble seeker!” Adam teases you and you just roll your eyes at him before shyly glancing at Harry who is standing on your left, awfully quiet and deep in his thoughts since your arrival. He feels your eyes on him and his gaze meets yours and just by one look you can tell he is pissed.

Just as you thought.

The group chats a little longer outside before Adam suggests they head inside and get ready for their start and you are just about to follow them, but Harry keeps you back.

“Y/N, can we have a word?”

Staying back you nod, hiding your hands in your coat’s pockets as you look at him, lips curled into your mouth.

“What are you doing here?” he questions, eyebrows knitted together and he looks so damn intimidating, the neon lights from the front of the building tinting part of his face green, but you think red would suit him better with this look.

“I… came to see the band playing, what do you mean?”

“Is this your sneaky way of trying to come after me? Because I thought we had a very clear discussion about my thoughts regarding situations like this and you seemed to understand it.”

He comes off way angrier than you think he should be. Yes, it might be uncomfortable for him to see you here, but the tone he just hit is way too harsh for your liking and professor or not, you are not letting anyone talk to you like that when it’s completely not relevant.

“Okay, calm down. First of all, I was invited here.”

“By who?” he spats.

“Sarah and Charlotte, we met last weekend and had dinner this week as well. Had a great time and they asked me to come tonight as well, so get off of your high horse, I’m not here for you.” You can see the change on his face as the information sinks in and he realizes he accused you wrongly, but you’re not quite done with him. “But if I was here to see you, why does that bother you so much? You can’t avoid meeting students every minute when you’re off-campus. If I came here because of you, it shouldn’t affect you this much if you weren’t worried about something else than me just being here,” you point out and he furrows his eyebrows at you. “If I didn’t know better I would think you’re afraid to be around me because you actually like me, huh!” you tell him with an innocent yet suggesting look. His eyes widen and the confidence in himself quickly vanishes from him, replaced by anxiety and nervous looks as he realizes the meaning behind your words.

“I-I, that’s not—I’m not—“

“Take a breath before you pass out, Harry,” you sigh, dropping the hard act. “I didn’t come here for you and if you want to know I actually thought a lot about canceling because of you. But I genuinely like spending time with Sarah and Charlotte so I’m here as their friend.”

Harry stares back at you, completely defeated, regret filling his green eyes. You feel a little guilty for snapping so hard at him, after all you do understand his point of view, but you genuinely don’t think it’s as big of a deal as he makes it to be.

“I-I’m…”

“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just… move past it, alright?” you suggest and he nods as the two of you head inside, joining the rest of the group.

You stay behind while they are waiting for their time to perform, keeping some distance from Harry so he can’t accuse you again, but you occasionally look his way, catching him already looking at you, but you just can’t tell what could be possibly going on in his head. When it’s time for them to go on stage, you go out to the actual bar area and sit by the counter, not too much at the front but close enough to see everything that happens on the stage.

When they start playing you can’t take your eyes off Harry. His energy behind the microphone just knocks you off the stool and you watch him completely mesmerized as if he has put a spell on you. It feels like he turns into an entirely different person on stage, nothing like the man you see at lectures every Monday and Wednesday. He sings perfectly on key, putting some extra charm into the songs with his little additional tunes whenever he is not singing a line.

But what makes it absolutely impossible to look away from him is because he keeps staring at you, eyes locking with yours for way too long every time he catches your gaze. You try to ignore it, but it’s quite hard when his eyes are basically burning into you, it leaves you breathless.

Once the concert is over you order yourself two tequila shots quickly, because something is telling you that you’ll need the boosting if you want to face Harry after his little performance.

But for your surprise, when you join the band again and get near him, nothing really happens. It seems like Harry has come to peace with your presence in his little group of friends and he actually treats you like you’re part of the circle.

The six of you occupy a table at the back of the bar to spend there the rest of the evening and it’s all good, it seems. A harmless night out with a bunch of friends, nothing extra. Harry actually strikes up conversations with you involved and you feel like you’ve overcome a banter finally.

“Do you need a ride home?” Harry asks at the end of the night when everyone is about to head home.

“Only if it’s fine by you.”

“Wouldn’t offer it if it wasn’t,” he smiles shortly before the two of you say goodbye to the rest of the group and head to his van that was previously loaded with their stuff.

The ride back to your place is now much shorter, it takes less than ten minutes to arrive and you are just about to say goodbye when he speaks up.

“I want to apologize for the way I reacted to your arrival earlier tonight. It was… unnecessary.”

“It’s fine, I’m sorry for what I said after that too.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he shakes his head, staring down at his hands in his lap.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you shouldn’t be sorry for saying something that’s true.”

It feels like all air is knocked out of you as his words process and you stare at him with parted lips and raised eyebrows. When he finally looks up at you, he looks so lost and tortured, you feel the urge to hug him, but you stay still as he continues talking.

“I got mad because I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very… confusing for me. And this is why I’m gonna be very straightforward with you now. I can tell Sarah and Charlotte like you a lot and they are stubborn, they won’t see the situation from my point of view and I’m no one to tell you if you can hang out with us or not. But what I can most certainly tell you is that nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N. You are very much welcomed to spend more time with us, but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”

For a couple of moments you’re only able to stare back at him, blinking completely frozen at his sudden confession. You could tell tonight has been a turning point of some kind, but you were not expecting this speech from him at all and now you are at a complete loss of words. It takes some time before you actually find your voice.

“Okay,” is all you can breathe out, nothing more, but it’s pretty much all you have to tell him. You won’t go against his will and force him to do something he doesn’t want. He deserves the respect.

He nods shortly, seemingly still very torn about the situation and you figure it’s better if you just leave now.

“Thank you for the ride,” you quietly tell him opening the door. “Good night.”

“Good night, Y/N,” you hear him before you shut the door and walk into your building, feeling like you’ve been just hit by a pile of bricks.

Unlike the last time when Harry brought you home, Nat and Eden are not waiting for you in the living room. Nat is probably already asleep and Eden went out for a date earlier and she hasn’t been back. You don’t bother to turn the lights on as you walk inside, just kick your boots off and hang your coat before collapsing onto the couch, just staring into the darkness, Harry’s words repeating in your head again and again.

“… I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very confusing for me.”

“… nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N.”

“… but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”

Harry, your professor, The Harry Styles admitted that he likes you but also told you pretty forward that nothing is ever going to happen between the two of you. It still feels like a fever dream and you’re not sure how you are feeling about it just yet. Hanging out with him was already quite overwhelming, but you were not expecting this confession from him at all.

What are you supposed to do with this information? If he is so set on not taking any further steps, why did he even share it with you? He could have just easily keep his thoughts and feelings to himself and get away with it without you ever figuring it out. It doesn’t make sense.

For the first time in your life, something Harry Styles said doesn’t make sense. That’s new.

Following Harry’s confession you truly have no idea what to do, so you just go with the flow. He seemingly stays the same when it comes to you, friendly, but still keeping his distance. Nothing changes in the lecture hall, he just occasionally asks if you’re alright and you are guessing he only wants to know if you are having any trouble with Victor, but you haven’t even heard from him since you’ve blocked his number and you hope it’s going to stay like that.

You meet up with him and the band a few times outside of school and it’s not necessarily awkward, but you can tell he is keeping his distance from you, he never sits next to you or has one-on-one conversations with you, only if it’s necessary. The only time he dares to be alone with you is when he sometimes offers you to drive you home. You usually say no at first, but he insists, so you end up sitting in silence in the car until you arrive home, say goodbye and end of story.

No one in school even suspects that you’ve made your way into Harry’s group of friends, only Nat and Eden knows about it but they swore to keep it a secret, but you didn’t tell them about Harry’s confession. Whatever it is that’s happening between you and Harry, you would never put him into a situation he is trying to avoid so badly. You sit in his classes like everyone else, but while all the other girls are drooling over him, trying to get just slightly closer to him in any way possible, you sit in silence and think about the precious times when you get to see him outside of school.

Even with him being so distant towards you, you can’t help but slowly start falling for him. He doesn’t have to talk to you or be direct to you, it’s enough that you see him as himself, you see him with his friends, how he acts whenever he is not teaching, standing on the podium. And he is an amazing person, there’s no doubt about that.

The semester is gradually moving forward, once you get back from fall break, you basically move into the library, studying for your exams and finishing up all your papers. December arrives pretty fast and before you realize, the whole town is decorated with lights and Christmas trees everywhere, the shops are trying to lure customers in with all the sales and the Christmas shopping officially starts.

One weekend, when there’s only two weeks left of school before everyone heads home for the holidays, you and Nat go for a shopping trip, trying to buy every gift in time so you don’t have to worry about that at least last minute.

Wandering around the mall you naturally take a trip to the bookstore, always ready to buy something new to read. Nat dives into the cooking books wanting to get one for her mother while you’re just aimlessly looking through the shelves. As your eyes are running through the titles in the psychology department, you stop at one particular book, pulling it off the shelf as you can’t help but smile to yourself.

The secrets of Classical Conditioning.

You flip through the pages and though it doesn’t seem to be a groundbreaking work, it’s just explaining Pavlov’s experiment and further uses of it, you still decide to buy it.

That evening you sit at your desk, the book open in front of you, a pen next to it as you try to think of something to write into it. At first you just wanted to give it to Harry as it is, but you figured it would be a nice gesture to write a few words into it he could always read when he opens the book. After some consideration, you finally grab the pen and start writing.

-

Dear Harry,

I will always think of you whenever I hear of Mr. Ivan Petrovics Pavlov or Classical Conditioning. Thank you for another amazing semester and I’m happy I got to see you without standing on a podium. You are an amazing man, never change.

Happy holidays,

Y/N

-

Last week of school, you go to the Wednesday lecture, the last one of the semester with the book sitting in your bag. All through the 90 minutes class as Harry is having an open discussion about the lecture with the students, you keep debating whether you should give him the book or not. When the lecture is over and Harry wishes everyone happy holidays, you grab it from your bag and holding it to your chest you wait until there’s only a few people in the room. Eden has already left to hand in a paper so you walk down the rows on your own, eyes on the man behind his desk who is now packing up his papers and notes, getting ready to leave.

“Harry?” you faintly speak his name, grabbing his attention as he looks up at you from behind the desk. You glance down at the book in your hands and before you could change your mind, you place it down in front of him. “This is… for you.”

His gaze wanders down to the book, then back at you as he stares at you in awe, obviously surprised by the gesture.

“What’s this for?”

“Christmas gift?” you answer unsurely with a nervous chuckle. “I just saw it at the store and… thought of you.”

“Y/N, I can’t—“

“Yes you can and you will,” you roll your eyes at him, tired of hearing all these negations from him. He can’t, he won’t, he shouldn’t… for once, he definitely will if it’s on you. “Take it as my payment for the book you gave me.”

His eyes soften at you before he looks down at the book again, reading the title before he chuckles to himself.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he then finally says, accepting that you won’t let him return the gift under any circumstances.

“Have a nice Christmas, Harry,” you smile at him shyly, hands holding onto the strap of your bag as you start walking away.

“You too,” he faintly says and turning around you start walking, but then he stops you. “Y/N, wait!”

You stop in your track and face him curiously. He seems hesitant, stepping away from the desk, walking closer to you but still keeping some distance between the two of you.

“Do you… have plans for New Year’s Eve?”

“I, uhh—No, not yet.”

“If you happen to be back in town by then… Sarah is having this little get together. I have a feeling she already invited you, but if you said no because of me, I want you to know that it’s fine by me. Would be nice if you could come.”

He is right, Sarah did invite you over, but you kindly declined thinking Harry wouldn’t appreciate if you spent it with them. You wanted to give him a breather, have a night with his friends without having to avoid you all the time, but it seems like the situation has changed for him.

“You don’t have to invite me just because I gave you a gift, Harry.”

“It’s not about that,” he shakes his head softly. “I can tell you are getting along well with Sarah and all the others. I want you to know that I would never stand in the way and you are very much welcomed at any and all events.”

He seems and sounds genuine, you don’t see any sign of him just saying it because Sarah asked him to or something. No, this definitely came from him.

“Okay, I’ll… think about it,” you tell him with a warm smile. “See you around,” you wave at him before walking out of the room.

You don’t get to see his reaction to the words you wrote into the book and for a while, you’re not even sure he saw it. Maybe he took it home and put it on his shelf without even having a look into it, but two days later, when you’re already packing, getting ready to go home for Christmas, you get a notification that at first confuses you.

Breakfast is now following you!

You open Instagram with furrowed eyebrows as you go to the profile that just followed you. It’s a small account and private, of course and you almost close it thinking it’s just someone random when you see that it’s followed by both Sarah and Charlotte.

Could this be Harry’s profile?

The username is colazione8, it doesn’t give away much but now that you are thinking about it, it’s perfect if he wanted to stay unnoticed by his students that surely can use Instagram way better than him.

You tap on the follow request button and anxiously wait for an approval, hoping that the person behind the account is still online. You wait and wait, slowly losing hope but then the notification finally arrives. Your request has been approved.

You tap on the profile vigorously and three pictures appear in front of you. One is a picture of some random building, the first ever posted is a plate of nicely served breakfast of some sort and then there’s one that features the person you were desperately hoping to see.

It’s a picture of Harry sitting at a big dining table, a glass of wine in front of him as he is squinting his eyes towards the camera. You zoom into the picture just to make sure it’s him, but his features are clearer than daylight, it really is Harry that just followed you.

You’re still stalking his very private and not too eventful profile when you get a message from him, making your heart skip a beat.

Harry: Hey! Just wanted to thank you again for the gift, it’s really thoughtful. Read what you wrote in it… thank you, Y/N.

Y/N: I meant every word. Thank you for everything you did this semester!

It takes a few minutes for a response to arrive from him.

Harry: Are you already on your way home?

Y/N: Not yet, leaving tomorrow morning.

Harry: If I drop by your place in 20, can you come down for a sec?

Y/N: Sure!

Though your response seemed totally cool, you started panicking right away. What does this mean? Why is he coming here? Are you in trouble? You couldn’t be, you didn’t do anything wrong.

You quickly change out of your worn-out sweats and stained shirt, putting on a pair of jeans and a black hoodie, not wanting to see him looking like a total wreck. You sit on your bed, anxiously checking your phone every ten seconds to see if he has messaged you and those twenty minutes never seem to pass.

Then your phone finally chimes again.

Harry: I’m here.

Y/N: Be there in a sec.

You jump into a pair of trainers and grabbing your keys from the little sidetable you have in the hallway you storm out of the apartment, running down the stairs. As you walk out you stop in your track for a second, for some reason you were expecting the minivan, but this time, it’s a black Range Rover that’s parked in front of your building and Harry emerges from it the moment you step outside.

“Hey!” he smiles at you, shutting the door before he jogs around and you notice the little gift bag in his hands.

“Harry, is this what I think it is? Because you shouldn’t have, really,” you tell him right away as he stands in front of you, glancing down at the little bag in his hands.

“What? So you are allowed to give me a gift, but I’m not allowed to do the same?” he asks with a cheeky smile.

“But you already gave me one!”

“That wasn’t a real gift, so no,” he shakes his head, too stubborn to let it go. So instead, he nervously glances down at the little bag before handing it to you. “Here. Happy Christmas. But you can only open it when I’m gone, alright?”

“Why?”

“Just… please,” he breathes out and you not, keeping your curious hands to yourself.

“Alright. Well, thank you, Harry.”

“Sure. Um, have a great winter break and… I’ll see you around,” he smiles, walking around the car back to the side of the driving seat.

“You too, Harry. See you!”

You see him drive away as you walk back into the building, basically running up the stairs to your apartment, dying to see what’s in the little bag. Once you are locked in the safe haven of your room, you throw yourself to the bed and reach into the bag, finding a small box. One that’s usually used for jewelry. You pull it out with shaky fingers and take a deep breath before opening it.

Inside sits the cutest little silver ring you’ve literally ever seen. It’s thin and very detailed, tiny little strawberries lining next to each other and that’s the whole ring. Just the little strawberries, but it’s still the cutest you’ve ever seen. You put it on and it fits perfectly on your ring finger, holding up your hand you take a good look at how it sits on your finger. You’re in love with it.

Rolling to your back on the bed you stare up at the ceiling with a heavy heart aching for a man you know will never be yours, but you just can’t help it. The heart wants what it wants, right?

Reaching for your phone you type him a quick message

Y/N: Harry, thank you so much! It’s beautiful! But you shouldn’t have bought me anything!

Harry: I’m glad you like it :)

Y/N: I love it.

He doesn’t respond, just likes your message.

Christmas is always the same, especially because your family just never had those juicy dramas that could ruin any family events. Holidays have always been quiet and loving, pretty predictable. It’s good to be home again and spend quality time with your loved one, though your mind keeps wandering to a particular someone.

Sarah mentioned that Harry has traveled home to his mom and sister and from time to time you catch yourself thinking about what he could be possibly doing at the moment.

The only interaction between the two of you is when you post a photo with your sister and brother at Christmas dinner and he likes the photo, but nothing more. He doesn’t post or add to his story so you are left with your own elaborate fantasies of what he could possiblybe doing at home.

Sarah convinces you to spend the New Year’s Eve at hers and you are accepting the invitation a lot easier now that Harry has told you he is fine with you joining.

Just one day before the 31st you get back to your apartment and spend the second to last night of the year spiraling about the whole situation with Harry. Where are you two standing as of right now? Was his gift a gesture with a deeper meaning behind it?

You can’t step over the fact that you are not his student anymore. He has officially graded you and you’ve received your credits for his class, the ties are off, but he situation might still be risky and you doubt Harry is willing to change his mind about what he told you earlier. He made it clear that nothing will ever happen between the two of you, however you can’t help but feel a little hopeful that the new semester might bring a change into that.

After two hours spent in front of your closet and at least three mental breakdowns you finally decide to wear a black turtleneck dress which is just the perfect mixture of modest and sexy at the same time. You feel anxious to see Harry again, not sure how to act around him following your little gift exchange. There’s a chance he’ll just shut himself off once again and avoid you all night, you can’t tell.

Sarah’s place is already buzzing by the time you arrive, several guests are lounging in the living room and kitchen, some soft music is playing and it appears that everyone is enjoying the evening so far, judging from the laughter you hear from time to time.

“I’m so glad you came!” Sarah envelopes in a tight hug when you arrive.

“Thank you for inviting me. Here, brought some snacks,” you hand her the grocery bag you picked up on your way, not wanting to arrive empty-handed.

“Oh, you are an angel, some on in, make yourself home, take whatever you want to eat or drink!” she gestures around before bringing the bag into the kitchen.

The cozy home is already filled with a lot of people you don’t know, but you also spot Charlotte and Mitch right away so you take the safe spot in their little circle. You try your best to stay present in the conversation but you keep glancing around, looking for one particular person.

And then you finally see him. Harry emerges from the little hallway that leads to the bedroom and bathroom with Adam, seemingly deep in conversation as he nurses a beer in his hand. His checkered slacks and vintage printed t-shirt makes him appear so casual, if you didn’t know him you wouldn’t even guess that he is actually a professor.

Harry laughs at something Adam just told him and his eyes glide around the room until they find you standing near the kitchen. He stops in his track, gaze running down your figure before it returns to your eyes and he seems to be in awe, like he doesn’t entirely believe it’s you he is seeing even though he knew you’d be coming. There’s nothing you want more than to run across the room and throw yourself into his arms. You spent way too much time thinking about him during Christmas and seeing him in the flesh now is a mixture of feelings you can’t really describe just now.

Neither of you leaves the conversation you are in the middle, but you keep glancing towards each other. You’re nervously moving the strawberry ring around your finger, feeling his burning gaze on your figure all the time. You haven’t taken it down since he has given it to you, it partially made it harder for you to stop thinking about him, because the jewelry was quite a loud reminder every time you glanced down at your hands.

Two drinks later your sister calls you, as always she wants to say happy new year before the lines get hectic at midnight, so you move out to the small balcony facing the street as you talk to your sister. The spicy night air feels amazing on your heated up skin, the turtleneck dress was a good choice, but it’s definitely getting hotter with each drink, especially with Harry’s lingering eyes as well. When you end the call you decide to stay outside a little longer, take a few moments to yourself.

You jump a little when you hear the sliding door open and you’re surprised to see Harry walk out.

“Hey, thought you might need this,” he smiles softly, holding a blanket in his hands.

“Oh, thank you,” you mumble and let him wrap it around your shoulders. It provides just enough heat that your lips are not shaking anymore from the cold.

“What are you doing out here alone? Not enjoying the evening?”

“I am, I was just on the phone with my sister.”

“She’s older than you, right?” he asks and you tilt your head a little looking at him.

“How do you know that?”

“I, uhh… You have a lot of pictures with her on your Instagram,” he admits with a nervous chuckle.

“Have you been stalking my profile?” you tease him, but he clearly takes it way more serious than you intended it to be.

“No, I swear it’s not like that, I just—“ he stammers but you cut him off placing a hand on his arms that are crossed over his chest.

“Harry, I was just teasing you. It’s fine,” you assure him, giving him a gentle squeeze before you are about to pull your hand back, but his hold stops you. He takes your hand in his, gently bringing it closer to his face as he examines the ring sitting on your finger.

“You’re wearing it,” he breathes out, a small cloud emitting from his pink lips as his thumb softly runs over the ring.

“Of course. I told you I love it.”

You can’t ignore the shiver that runs down your spine at the feeling of his warm palm against yours, his thumb delicately running over not just the ring, but down your finger as well before he lets go of your hand. You already miss his touch.

“So, how was Christmas?” he asks clearing his throat.

“Good, nothing extra. What about yours?”

“Same, went home to the family.”

“Do you often visit them?”

“Not as often as I would want to, but I’m trying to go every couple of months.” Harry turns towards the street, eyes running along the not too busy road that stretches past Sarah’s building. His hand comes up to the railing, fingers slightly drumming on it. “How come you didn’t bring anyone tonight?”

“Well, my roommates are still home and I also didn’t think you’d like the idea to have another student of yours around.”

“Right, yeah,” he nods, but you can tell something else is still on his mind. “So… no boyfriend to bring?”

You give him a puzzled look. Is this his way of asking if you are seeing anyone at the moment? Because if it is, it’s kind of ridiculous.

“No, not really. I guess you can say I’m not looking for one actively.”

“How come?” he asks with raised eyebrows, his body turning towards you as he leans against the railing. You give him a ‘really?’ look. You think about getting a little sassy and teasing with him, but then decide to just be straightforward instead.

“Because I’m kind of into my Methodology of Cultural Anthropology professor.”

Harry’s lips part as his eyes pierce into yours and for a moment you really think that he is about to flip, tell me how dare you say such thing to him and curse you out, but a second passes and his gaze softens as he lets out a shaky breath.

“Y/N…”

“What? I just answered your question,” you innocently shrug, looking away from him. Despite this long and weird game the two of have been playing these past months, this is the first time you openly admitted that you have a thing for him.

“You know how complicated it is and I told you that nothing can happen.” He shakes his head in defeat, a hint of disappointment in his tone, but it just grinds your gears.

“What, so you can ask about my dating life but I can’t say that I’m into you? How is that fair?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Well I think it is. Both are highly inappropriate to bring up in our situation, don’t you think? Yet you’re trying to put all the blame on me.”

“Alright, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Let’s just… forget about it. I really don’t want to fight with you.”

“Because you’re afraid I might actually win?” you sassily reply, crossing your arms on your chest.

“I’m just trying to do the right thing, okay? Would you… let me?”

“If you haven’t realized it yet, I’m trying really hard to stay in my lane, but you’re not making it any easier.”

“I’m trying too, okay?” he growls, clearly losing his calmness at this point. “I’m really fucking trying, Y/N, but it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!”

“You’re the one making it hard!”

“It’s not my fucking fault I can’t stop thinking about you!”

“Well it’s not my fault either!” you snap at him, both of you raising your voice, the rest of the party oblivious about the screaming match the two of you are having on the balcony. “If you’re so set on not letting anything happen, why do you come to me and act the opposite?”

“The opposite?!”

“Yes! It’s not quite appropriate to gift your student with a ring or ask them about their dating life. Or is it all new information to you?”

“You started with the gifting!”

“So what? You could have just left it there, but you didn’t. It’s not that it didn’t make me happy, but don’t try to put all the blame on me for saying something when you’re already crossing the lines.”

Harry stares at you with a hard look and you’d pay great amounts to actually read his thoughts at this moment. His jaw clenches as he exhales sharply, eyes turning away from you, as if he couldn’t even bear to look at you.

“Make up your fucking mind,” you growl under your breath as you push your way past him and walk inside before he could get a word out.

For a well-respected, educated and smart man, Harry can act pretty fucking stupid, you think. He is not being fair and you will not apologize for anything you’ve said. If he doesn’t want anything to do with you, he needs to stay in his lane and not dance on the line, poking the sleeping lion. He doesn’t get to fuck around and then put all the blame on you, that’s just not how it works and he needs to learn that.

In the last hour that’s left until midnight you mingle with the guests and try to keep your thoughts of Harry at bay, though it’s quite the challenge since he lingers around you, keeping his eyes on you all the time, as if he is trying to piss you off or something, but you’re determined to be a mature adult and keep your composure.

You’re getting tired of this game and you’re not sure anymore if you are willing to wait around until Harry makes his mind up. Not when he doesn’t keep his own rules at least.

“Come on,” you mumble to yourself as you’re trying to open up a new bottle of wine, but the screw just wouldn’t move, no matter what you do. A hand reaches forward and wraps around the neck of the bottle, interrupting your pathetic misery.

“Let me help you.”

You let Harry take the bottle, biting into your bottom lip as you turn around and watch him easily open the bottle you’ve been fighting with the past ten minutes, he grabs your empty glass from the counter and fills it.

“Thank you,” you mumble when he hands it back and you take a sip right away. He places the bottle to the counter, fingers strumming on the surface before he takes a deep breath and speaks up.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“For what exactly?”

“For the way I acted. You were totally right, I called you out for things that I did myself too, that was unfair of me.” He clears his throat, leaning against the counter with his back side as he crosses his arms on his chest. It brings out how toned his arms really are and you give yourself half a second to drool over that before you take another sip from your drink, forcing yourself to keep your thoughts under control.

“Thanks for acknowledging it,” you mumble, not sure what to say exactly. The two of you stand like that in silence, eyes roaming the guests, something clearly weighing down on both of you, but it’s hard to name and address it.

You can tell he is overthinking, the gears are almost visible, turning in that smart head of his, but you don’t want him to go into depths he shouldn’t. He really is making a bigger deal out of the situation that it already is, but it’s going to wreck him.

“Okay, I want to know, what was the worst way someone tried to flirt with you?”

Harry turns to you with a puzzled look, but you just sip on your wine, waiting for his answer.

“Um, I don’t… really keep track of it.”

“Oh come on,” you give him a look. “I know you have a story. I wanna hear it!”

Your eyes meet and he is searching in yours, trying to figure out what’s the sudden change in your mood when an hour ago you were ready to throw him off the balcony. Truth is you are just frustrated, because the situation feels so impossible. You never had to deal with such an amazing man, knowing he is into you as well, but you just can’t have him. The struggle is hard for the both of you but you can’t blame him entirely. Hating on him because he is not willing to take a risk that could easily ruin his entire life but at least his academic career is just not fair and you won’t put him through that.

Harry sees where you’re coming from and he shoots you a thankful smile before it turns into a smirk as he looks down at his hands.

“Professor Davids from the department of linguistics asked me to be her date for her ex-husband’s wedding.”

“What?” you gasp with wide eyes. “For real?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “She started swinging by my office all the time, trying to chat me up and then one day she asked if I wanted to go with her, that we would be staying at this nice hotel and all… she really thought it was a good idea.”

“That’s very awkward,” you laugh, entertained by the thought that Professor Davids would go so low when it came to dating. “I assume, you declined the invitation.”

“Faster than ever,” he chuckles making you laugh even louder. “Okay, your turn.”

“What?”

“I told you an awkward story, now it’s your turn.”

“Um, the worst was probably a promposal I got.”

“A promposal?” he asks with a puzzled look, his forehead creasing as he pulls his eyebrows together.

“Yeah, when they ask you out to go to prom.” “Oh, yeah. Didn’t know it had a specific name.”

“Because you are way too British,” you tease him and he just gives you a narrow-eyed look, but you can see the smirk hiding on his lips. “Well, anyway, I was dating a guy senior year, but this other one was convinced he could win me over and take me to prom. He brought a fucking mariachi band to school and gave me a serenade in the middle of the hallway while my boyfriend was standing next to me. He asked me to prom so confidently at the end of the song, like he actually had a shot but it was so painfully awkward,” you laugh at the memory shaking your head and Harry joins, finding it quite entertaining.

“He really did that to himself.”

“He did, I felt bad a little, but what was I supposed to do?”

You slip into telling more and more awkward stories, staying in the kitchen you create a little bubble, the rest of the guests don’t seem to exist as you enjoy yourself with Harry. This is the most carefree and loosest you’ve ever seen him around you and you quite like this version of him. So easy to talk to and even funnier than his usual self.

A little before midnight Sarah runs around with champagne, filling everyone’s glass, getting ready for the countdown. You and Harry join Charlotte, Adam and his wife in the corner of the living room as everyone is slowly getting excited for the last moments of the year.

Looking around you see a lot of couples, holding hands, hugging, clearly planning to snog the moment the clock hits midnight and when you glance at Harry on your right you’re convinced he is thinking about the same thing.

You’re not naïve, you don’t think he is going to kiss you, but you still allow yourself to play with the thought just a little. He is standing so close to you, just the tiniest move and you’d be touching him, skin to skin again, feel him under your—

The thought is abruptly interrupted when you feel his warm palm wrap around your hand, your whole body freezing and for a split second you think it’s just an accident, that his touch will disappear before you could even blink, but it stays there. Harry maneuvers his fingers until they are laced together with yours and he keeps a firm hold of your hand, hanging between the two of you, staying hidden because you’re standing close to each other. Your breath catches in your throat and you’re afraid if you dare to move he’ll let go of your hand.

Another version of yourself would laugh hysterically at how worked up you are right now just because he is holding your hand, but the you that’s actually in the moment is about to burst just by this small touch. You have absolutely no idea what it means or why he chose to do it, but you don’t really care about it. You just want to absorb all the heat you feel coming from him where his palm meets yours, fingers braided together tightly, as if he is trying to keep you next to him, like he thinks you are about to disappear and it’s way of anchoring you to him, but truth is you don’t want to go anywhere.

“One minute, everyone!” Sarah sings in excitement as she turns on the TV and puts a huge clock on the screen that’s counting the seconds as well. You shyly glance to the side, finding Harry standing motionless next to you and when he notices you looking, his eyes meet yours. He looks terrified, like a lost little boy and you can’t tell if he is afraid of your reaction or because of what his actions might bring on him. But you want him to know that you are completely okay with where it’s heading.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” The countdown begins and you inch closer to Harry so you’re pressed against his side, his body heat radiating into your skin even through the layers of clothes you two are wearing.

Harry leans down the moment you lift your head, his face is so close, it wouldn’t take much for you to finally kiss him, do the one thing you haven’t stopped thinking about for months.

“Y/N…” he breathes out and it’s a tortured plea, he is begging you to stop him from doing something he might regret, but you are dying for him to finally sin. You want him to give it up already, you have absolutely no desire to be the burden that keeps him in his lane. You need him to cross the line and stay there.

“I’m not stopping you, Harry,” you tell him quietly, the urge to close the distance between the two of you is burning inside you.

“Seven! Six! Five!” the countdown continues, but it all tones out, you can only see, hear and feel Harry.

“We can’t,” he whines, closing his eyes as he exhales shakily.

“We can, we just shouldn’t,” you correct him, his eyes snap open and meet yours again. You can tell he is so close to finally giving in and let his feelings and desires take control and you will not try to stop him.

His face inches the tiniest bit closer and his forehead is almost touching yours now, you can see every curly eyelash that frames his gorgeous green eyes that are now filled with fear and nerves.

“Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Everyone screams together as the clock finally hits midnight while you just stare at Harry holding your breath, praying that he is finally ballsy enough to take this step.

“Harry, please,” you beg, not too proud of it, but you just can’t take it any longer. His hand is gripping yours tightly as he closes his eyes again and for a second you think that it’s gonna happen. He is going to give up the act and finally kiss you.

But right when the moment is burning the most… he pulls back and your heart sinks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his hand lets go of yours and it feels like your arm is ripped off, tears are welling in your eyes.

“Yeah, me too,” you mumble under your breath, chugging down the champagne before making your way through the living room, determined to leave as soon as possible.

“Y/N, wait, where are you going?” you hear him calling after you, but you don’t stop. You get rid of the empty champagne glass and grab your coat from the rack, storming out of the apartment as if you had somewhere to be.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you run down the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. You hear the other pair of feet running behind you and Harry calling after you, but it’s not stopping you.

You push the front door of the building open, but it’s heavy, so it slows you down just enough that Harry can grab your wrist when you are about to start running down the street.

“Y/N, don’t go, let me explain!”

“No!” you snap at him. “I don’t fucking want to hear your explanation! I’m done, Harry! I’m fucking done! I was trying to be patient and respectful, I didn’t want to make it worse for you and let you do your thing, but you kept dancing back and forth and I can’t keep doing this, so I guess I’m sorry too.”

You’re choking on your own words that echo from the walls, the street is almost entirely empty, the world is still celebrating the new year while you’re at your breaking point. Harry stands in front of you, defeated and panic all over his face as he listens to you.

“I will not sit around and let you play your little games any longer, because you can’t make up your mind whether you want me or not.”

“Y/N I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life!” he snaps, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s the problem! This shouldn’t be happening, but I can’t fucking stop thinking about you, I can’t stop wanting you!”

“Then do something about it!” you beg through your tears.

“I can’t!”

“Yes you can!” you scream at him. “You can but you probably just don’t want me enough to actually do it! And it’s fine, but—“

You don’t get to finish your rant because Harry firmly grabs your arm, yanks you towards him and with one swift movement, his lips are crashing against yours.

It all happens so fast but your body reacts before your mind could process what’s really happening, fists bunching a handful of his sweater as you pull him against you, his hands flying up to your face, cupping them confidently as he kisses you hard and demandingly.

It’s like a fucking dam that’s been broken, everything you both kept bottled up and under control just breaks loose and it’s a kind of a wild fight for trying to devour each other now that all lines has been crossed an blurred into nothingness.

He is the dominant one, but you do some pushing and pulling on your own as well. You’re forced to take a few steps backwards, back arching at how forcefully he is pushing forward, lips smacking against each other over and over again, his tongue meeting yours, swirling and dancing around with yours, a shameless moan escaping your mouth.

His hands roam down your sides and you jumps when they reach the back of your thighs, legs wrapping around his waist. He keeps you up easily, fingers digging into your flesh where your butt meets your thighs and this angle allows you to be completely pressed up against him and feel every single inch of his body that burns for you.

It’s beyond anything you’ve ever imagined, you’re not sure it’s because of the build-up that led to this point or simply the chemistry you two got, but it blows your mind, making you question how you could go this long without ever kissing him.

“Harry, I want you,” you moan when his lips move down to your jawline, kissing and biting on the soft skin, tasting you wherever he can reach.

“I want you too, Y/N,” he breathes out resting his forehead against yours before kissing you again.

“Take me home then.”

“Are you sure?” he pants as you run your fingers through his hair and tug on his gently, earning a whimper from his perfectly pink and swollen lips. You love this satisfied dew on his face, especially because you know it’s because of you.

“Never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You unwrap your legs from around his waist and return to the ground, but not without him leaning down to kiss you once more before he grabs your hand and starts pulling you down the street. You spot his Rover right away and start sprinting, Harry following you right behind with a carefree laugh.

Settled in your seats he starts driving, but you can’t keep yourself away from him. His hand that’s not on the steering wheel is gripping your thigh as you lean over the console and start kissing his cheek, jawline and the corner of his mouth as one of your hands runs down his chest until it reaches his pants.

“Love, if you move further down we’re gonna crash,” he warns you with a shaky breath. “I drank a little too and I’m already fucking gone from kissing you, if you touch me I’m gonna lose it.”

You giggle, pressing one last kiss to his lips before sitting back in your seat. You need every bit of your patience and self-control to stay modest on the way back to his place. Hands gripping his you bring it up to your lips, kissing his knuckles gently as he speeds down the empty streets. It’s still barely over midnight, everyone is still celebrating, oblivious to how important this moment is to the two of you.

You really thought this would be the end. When he pulled away at midnight all hope was lost for you and it broke your heart to know that he will never choose you over his better judgment.

It’s your first time at Harry’s but you don’t really care to look around as the two of you make your way inside the townhouse, lips already melted together as you stumble through the dark hallway, not wanting to let go of each other. You successfully make it into his bedroom and Harry turns on the bedside lamp while you’re already eagerly getting rid of your coat and shoes. He does the same, clothes start to litter the hardwood flooring hastily, but neither of you is thinking about them. Harry scoops you into his arms once again, kissing your lips passionately as he bunches your dress up at your hips until he can finally grip the end of it and pull it over your head.

“Oh shit!” you giggle, the turtleneck getting stuck on your head for a moment before you’re free from it.

“That big head of yours,” he chuckles kissing your forehead.

“Shut up,” you smack his chest gently, pushing him down to the bed so you can straddle him, knees on his sides as you sit on his lap, lips meeting again.

He throws his hands up when you start pulling his t-shirt up and once the fabric is off of his body, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close to his chest. Your skin meets his and it feels heavenly, only little clothing separating the two of you at this point.

Harry scoots backwards and then throws you to the mattress, getting on top of you without your lips ever parting. His hips are pushed against yours and you can feel everything through the thin material of his slacks. Without even knowing you grind your hips, your core meeting his erection in the movement and he moans uncontrollably at the sensation.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against your lips and you can’t push your smirk down at his reaction.

“Yeah, fuck me, Harry,” you tease him before your lips get occupied once again.

His hands work fast. He unclasps your bra without you even noticing, the straps falling from your shoulders before he gets rid of it, throwing it across the room as if it did something against him. When his hungry eyes fall down on your naked chest you see the same kind of torture in his eyes that was there when he was fighting with himself before.

“Harry, stop thinking,” you tell him, fingers massaging his scalp as you lace them through his hair. “It’s fine, we’re fine.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he questions again and you pull him down for a reassuring kiss.

“One hundred percent. I want this. I want you.”

“Oh God, I want you so bad,” he whines again, lips kissing down your jawline, neck and collarbone before they attack your breasts.

He cups them, licks and bites them, making you a whimpering mess underneath him every time his tongue meets your hot skin. This man will be the death of you. As he moves down your body, his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and he glances up at your for reassurance once again, you nod eagerly, lifting your hips so he can easily glide the fabric down and off of your body. Harry sits up, eyes burning down on your naked body lying in front of him as he undoes his own pants, pushing them down his long legs until they join the rest on the floor. You push yourself up when his hands move to his boxers, you want to be the one to take them off. He gladly backs his hands off when you reach out and start tugging them down. He kneels on the bed as you pull the fabric down and his erection finally becomes free, making you ache for him immediately. Once the boxers are out of the way completely you want to reach out to touch him, but he stops you, hands wrapping around your wrist before they could reach him.

Your eyes snap up to meet his darkened gaze, questioning why he stopped you.

“Y/N, I… If we do this, there’s no going back,” he breathes out with a pained look. You push yourself up to your knees so you meet his height, hands cupping his cheeks as you pull him into a sweet kiss that he hesitantly but returns.

“I know what you think about us, Harry, but I assure you, that I’m completely fine with it. But if you don’t want it to happen, we can just… lie here. I’m fine with that too. Kissing you was already such a gift for me,” you smile at him, gently pecking his lips.

“I just don’t want you to wake up and regret it. I’m not pushing you, right?”

“If anyone, it’s me pushing you,” you chuckle softly, a small smile tugging on his lips as well. “You didn’t push anything on me, alright? We are both adults and it’s completely fine. We’ll figure out the rest, I just want to focus on you now. Can I do that?”

Harry nods, still looking a little unsure, but you can tell he is starting to settle in his mindset. It’s not just him that worries about the other regretting something. You know how torn up he is about anything that’s about you and though you want him more than anything, you still don’t want to push him into doing something he is not entirely comfortable with.

“Do you want this?” you softly ask, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I do. I’m just—“

“Then it’s all good, Harry. We both want it, nothing else matters for now,” you tell him, wanting nothing else than to finally see him enjoy himself entirely. “Lay down for me,” you tell him, feeling like you taking the lead is a good idea now.

He does as you asked him to, lying down on the mattress, head sinking into his pillow as he blinks up at you, watching you swing a leg over him before settling to sit on his thighs.

“Can I touch you?” you ask, wanting to make sure he feels completely comfortable with you. Pleasing him is your number one priority right now. He nods, lips parting as he watches your hand reach out and wrap around the base of his erected length. He whimpers under your touch, his eyes fall closed when you gently pump him a few times, his cock fits so well in your palms, like pieces of a puzzle.

Leaning down you kiss his fern tattoos on each sides of his hips before placing one to his leaking tip, sliding your hands to the base before you slowly and gradually take him into your mouth.

You’re not planning to make him cum with your mouth, but you’ve been dying to taste him and it’s just as good as you imagined. The way his body reacts to your touch, the noises that leave his kissable lips, this man is completely out of this world and you want to explore every inch of his body.

You bob your head a couple of times, just enough to wet his length and work him up for what’s coming next. When you let him go of your mouth and you move a little up on his body so that his cock can be lined up with your hole, you look at him to see if he is still down to continue. One hand holding his cock, the other one flat on his naked chest, you ask him a question with your eyes that he answers with his hands squeezing your hips.

“I have the implant. Do you want to put on a condom?” you ask him at last.

“I trust you,” he breathes out. “Do you want me to put one on?”

“I want to feel you,” you tell him shaking your head.

“Okay,” he nods so it’s settled.

Leaning down you peck his lips one last time before you push the head inside and then slowly ease yourself down on his throbbing length.

“Oh fuck!”

“Harry, oh my God!” you both moan at the sensation of him finally entering you. You’ve had your fair share of sexual intercourses throughout your life, but none of them felt this good. None of them pleasured you this good so fast and easily, just the feel of him being inside you is making you lose your mind.  

You start off slow, wanting to feel him just right, get used to his size, but as soon as you feel more comfortable, you pick up a faster pace. His fingers are digging into your flesh at your hips as he holds onto you for dear life, panting and moaning at your motions. He glides in and out of you perfectly, setting your senses on fire practically.

“Harry, you feel so good,” you gasp, getting lost in the feeling. Sex has always been a good experience for you, but with Harry it’s a whole different story. As if he just opened a completely new world you never even knew about before.

“Yeah? You’re gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh fuck!”

Harry pushes himself up, an arm coming around your back as he easily flips the two of you over, your back gently hitting the soft mattress. He holds himself up above you, lips crashing with yours as he starts to do the work this time, thrusting in and out of you, his hips smacking against yours forcefully as you both nearing the end.

“You’re making me lose my fucking mind, Y/N,” he cries out, head falling to the crook of your neck and you wrap your arms around him as a shield, holding him tight against you.

It doesn’t take long after that. He is hitting just the right spots, making you moan his name over and over again as your orgasm slowly devours you and washes over your whole body while he is still relentlessly moving.

“Harry! Oh… Fuck!” you gasp, legs and hands shaking and you clench your muscles around him, throwing him over the edge with you. He falls out of his rhythm, his cock twitching inside you as he moans against the hot skin of your neck, coming undone in your arms.

Nothing has ever felt this intense and mind-blowing and you’re now sure you’re addicted to him, there’s no turning back, not that you want that.

He collapses on top of you, still inside you, his body weighing down on you heavily, but it feels just fine. You run your arms up and down his sides, kissing the side of his head as you are both trying to catch your breath. It takes a few minutes for him to come back to reality with you, he lifts his head and moves to the side so he is not crushing you anymore, but an arm remains thrown over your abdomen. His vibrant green eyes are shining like never before when they meet your tired gaze and cupping his face in your palm you pull him in for a slow kiss where you finally have the time to actually taste him without the rushing of your own needs and urges.

“How are you feeling?” you softly asking, knowing well how major this was for him. You wouldn’t want him to spiral and start to self-destruct because of what just happened.

“I’m feeling fine,” he murmurs lowly, his fingers dancing on your naked side. “Just still a little torn if I did the right thing.”

“You worry too much. We did nothing wrong.”

“Not sure everyone would agree with that.”

“Fuck everyone else,” you chuckle and a smile tugs on his lips as well. “I will not feel bad for having the best sex of my life with a hot as fuck man I’m really into,” you bluntly tell him, earning a smug grin.

“Best sex of your life, huh?”

“Not even ashamed to admit,” you nod into the pillow. “How… was it for you?” you shyly ask, afraid his answer might disappoint you. But Harry pulls you closer until you’re pressed up against his chest, his lips capture yours, kissing you fiercely, making your heart skip a few beats for sure.

“Fucking amazing, baby. Probably the best I ever had too,” he admits, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you nuzzle against his chest once he has rolled to his back.

Silence comes over the two of you, you’re listening to his steady heartbeat, mindlessly drawing patterns over his chest. Lifting your head your eyes meet his and you can tell he has been thinking hard about what this all means for the future now.

“I’m in,” you simply tell him.

“Huh?”

“If you are thinking that I might not want to do this with you, that I just wanted a good fuck, that’s not what I think of this. If you want to give us a chance, I’m totally in.”

“You think we can make it work?” he quietly asks, his voice barely more than just a whisper.

“Of course,” you smile at him warmly. “You don’t?”

“I do, I’m just… there are so many things that can go wrong.”

“Then… we’ll make them right.”

Harry breathes out through his nose, clearly having a hard time to take it as easy as you do and you wish you could magically make all his doubts go away.

Sitting up you put your hands on each of his sides, looking down at him determined to bring out his confidence in the two of you.

“We just have to be patient and careful until I finish. Then we are basically free. That’s just one more semester. It could be way worse, we can make it work for a couple of months before we can finally do whatever we want. That doesn’t sound that bad, does it?” Harry shakes his head, reaching up he tugs your hair behind your ear before running his fingers down the side of your face.

“So we are really doing this?” he breathes out, a small smile on his sweet, pink lips.

“Well, I’m surely not giving up on this, we came a long way to be here,” you chuckle. “Question is, are you gonna give up on us? On… me?”

“Hell no,” he chuckles softly as he shakes his head. You smile down at him and leaning down you peck his lips tenderly.

“Then… we really are doing this.”

SEQUEL: 🌊 AN OCEAN AWAY 🌊

-

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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[yumeyooa]

revenge is brutally sweet | jeon jungkook

—jeon jungkook’s life so far has been going well. he’s the guitarist of the most famous band in the scene, he’s got the girl of his dreams, and everything he’s ever wished for is in the palm of his hands. what he doesn’t expect though, is to wake up one day in the middle of a controversy. what the controversy is, you may ask? a new band has been hitting the charts, and their lead singer is none other than you, a former member of the band and his ex-girlfriend.

➢  pairing: jeon jungkook x female! reader

➢ genre: angst | slight fluff | band au | slight highschool au | post breakup au | exes au | r 15 | guitarist! jungkook | vocalist! reader

➢ word count: 14.6k+

➢  warning: profanity | heavy drinking | toxic relationships | messy break-ups | self depriciation | bullying | messy closure | this is just very much super angsty

➢ love letter: AH SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG T_T I kinda drowned in midterms AHSHSHs but I hope you enjoy this fic <33 there’s more to this angsty collection to come so stay tuned!! 

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Life couldn’t be any better. 

This is what Jeon Jungkook constantly told himself every morning after his short, fifteen-minute shower while messily tousling his hair in an extra-soft towel as he takes in the dreary yet somehow vibrant view from his penthouse apartment, soaking in the sun’s rays. 

The city was busy, even though the sun had just risen and bloomed into full glory. The streets were filled with people rushing to get wherever they needed to be, cars driving past with the fervor of a shackled mad man on wheels. If Jungkook looked closer, he would have probably seen the black exhaust drifting in the air from the fumes of those ecologically damaging vehicles or the frantic looks on an office worker’s face as they hurriedly crossed the street obviously late for work. 

But alas, Jungkook couldn’t care less about the trials and tribulations of some strangers he didn’t even know. After all, his life was going great. In fact, he was literally walking on cloud nine at this point and felt like nothing had stopped him. 

Of course, it wasn’t always this way, which was why Jungkook appreciated his success tenfold. 

He, like every other success story, had started from the ground up. Music was something he had always dreamed of doing for the rest of his life. Ever since his grandfather had first shown him how to play the guitar, the melodies had wrapped their whimsical tunes around his heart and made themselves stay. It was fascinating to him how playing a couple of strings could produce such music that could move souls and bring smiles to people’s faces.

And ever since then, he was hooked. Every chance he got, he would play the guitar even if his parents tried to pry him off it. 

They wanted him to be a doctor after all, and there was no way in hell he was going to go by their wishes. While being a doctor was great, it didn’t ignite the same spark that music did, and for Jungkook, he would rather die than live a life without his flame running ablaze.

So, against his parent’s wishes, he pursued a career in music. It wasn’t easy, of course. At first, he had no support system for his dream. His friends and teachers ridiculed and discouraged him, saying that the future was bleak and he had no hopes of making it big. But if Jungkook knew anything about himself, it would most likely have to do with the fact that he was extremely stubborn and persistent, much to the disappointment of the adults in his life. 

So he continued. He continued reaching his dreams, joining every music-related activity he could at his age until he finally met Mr. Park.

Mr. Park was a bright man who came in one day as a replacement for their music teacher, who was an old lady who stuck to the classics and had a somewhat deceiving grading system. He came into class with disheveled hair, an unkempt tie, and when he turned around to write his name on the board, the whole class laughed as they could see his heart print underpants peeking through. 

But despite his clumsiness and seemingly carefree nature, Mr. Park was a master at his craft. He was the epitome of what a music teacher should be; exceptionally skilled, eloquent, and passionate about what he did. But Mr. Park had another talent that not many knew about, which was the eye for potential.

And Mr. Park saw potential in Jungkook.

He had taken Jungkook under his wing and taught him the ropes of music life. The keys of the piano, how notes were read, how symphonies were made. And the more Jungkook learned, the more he yearned for a life surrounding music. When he voiced his wishes to Mr. Park, expecting to receive the same rejection he had always known, he was pleasantly surprised to find out that he had his support.

Mr. Park was the very first person who saw that Jungkook could have a future in music. He was the very first person who showed Jungkook that there was a path for him to take that was far better than the path his parents laid out for him. A rocky path filled with trials and tribulations but ultimately reaped great rewards in the end. 

Like a moth drawn to its flame, Jungkook was attracted to the seemingly devastating path because somehow, amid the darkness, there was hope. Hope for a happier future, a future that wasn’t filled with regret and mourning but full of triumph and satisfaction. Jungkook would be a fool not to pursue the latter.

And thus, in hopes of finally seeing the light, Jungkook decided to start his own band. 

It didn’t start off right away, though. After all, no kid at his school wanted to be part of a band that, in the eyes of their parents, was a complete waste of time. Jungkook kept his small dream hidden deep within his heart, yet even so, it still burned with an unyielding passion. Even if years passed and no opportunity for him to start a band was in sight, Jungkook didn’t give up, knowing that his persistence would one day reap great rewards.

And finally, his chance came in the form of you. 

From the very beginning, Jungkook had always thought you were strange. In a prestigious school known for being the epitome of perfection and class, you were the odd one out, sticking out like a sore thumb with your disheveled appearance and undignified manner of carrying yourself. Almost immediately, you were set to be the outcast, ridiculed by your peers for your looks and mannerisms, even if, in Jungkook’s opinion, you weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary.

Unfortunately, the world is never kind to those who are different. 

Jungkook’s phone rings from where it is laid on his bedside table, the alarm blaring loudly, causing a shift in the once serene atmosphere of his apartment. Jungkook pays it no mind at first, choosing to finish drying his hair before finally picking up the phone, voice groggy and slightly annoyed from having his peaceful morning interrupted.

“Who is it?” He hastily asks, not meaning to sound as harsh. But could he really be blamed when it was 7 AM in the morning, and he wasn’t expected to show up to any scheduled event until noon?

“Jungkook!” An exasperated voice exclaims from the other side of his phone. It was Namjoon, his manager, Jungkook, quickly concludes. Although it was rare for him to call so early in the morning, especially in such a panicked state. Perhaps he forgot to inform him of a schedule? Although that was annoying, Jungkook wouldn’t really mind. After all, work made money. But if that were the case, it would have been odd for Namjoon to be so panicked about it. The man was known for being reasonably level-headed even in times of extreme stress, so perhaps it was something else entirely. 

“Did you read the news?” Namjoon quickly adds before Jungkook could ask what was wrong. At his question, Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, quickly sitting down on the side of his bed and grabbing his iPad from the same bedside desk, unplugging the charger along the way. 

“No,” he says as he types up the password into the Home Screen, laying his phone in between the juncture of his shoulder and ear. “Is there something I should be concerned about? I mean, it’s not like I got into a scandal or anything, right?”

Wrong.

Well, partly.

The moment Jungkook opens his Twitter, he’s surprised to see more notifications than usual. Of course, it was a given for him to have a ghastly amount of notifications as a celebrity. He did have a large fan base, after all. But the numbers on his screen far exceeded that of what he was used to, and amongst those notifications tagging his account, one article stood out amongst the rest, and the headline made his blood run cold.

“What the fuck?” He whispers, staring at the article in shock as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Am I seeing this right, Namjoon?”

The man on the other side of the phone is silent for a while before Jungkook hears a sigh. “Unfortunately, yes,” Namjoon says, and Jungkook can almost imagine the way he’s probably rubbing his temples together while sipping his cup of black coffee in his office out of stress and frustration

“(Y/N) is back,” he says, causing shivers to run down Jungkook’s spine. “And apparently Jungkook, she wrote a song about you.”

 The day Jungkook finally mustered up the courage to talk to you for the first time was an experience, to say the least. For what felt like years, albeit it was only a few days, Jungkook had been observing you from the sidelines, watching as you were berated by his classmates, who apparently had nothing better to do with their time. 

A part of Jungkook always felt guilty for never standing up for you. He knew you needed a friend. Someone to confide in this hellish school that made it seem as if it were every man for himself. But he was a coward, raised and molded to never take a step outside the boundaries he had set for himself, like a doll.

Although, with Mr. Park's influence, Jungkook could finally break free from his shell, even if it were just a mere few steps. 

"Here," he says nervously, handing you a carton of banana milk that he had picked up from the nearest vending machine the moment he saw you storm out of the classroom in tears. Even then, your classmates had laughed, mocking how sensitive you were, which disgusted Jungkook. Didn't they have any ounce of shame for making a person cry like that?

You look up from where you sat on the school's staircase, eyes puffy from crying so hard, a stream of tears still flowing down your face. You looked like an absolute mess, and the sight only caused Jungkook's heart to clench even more. He sat beside you, albeit a bit distanced because he couldn't help but feel awkward. This was your first conversation, after all. 

You stare at him, not entirely understanding why he would extend kindness towards you. Was this a trick of fate? Was he doing this so you would someday do his bidding in the future? The kids of this school were scary, even scarier than the monsters that hid underneath your bed or the creatures that roamed around in the dead of night. Even amidst the light, they scared you, and you were terrified that the man offering you some banana milk would be just the same. 

"You don't have to take it if you don't want to," Jungkook says, after realizing you were staring at him warily, cautious over whether or not you would accept his gift. "Sweets always cheered me up whenever I feel down, and I thought maybe it would cheer you up too!" 

If anyone were to see your interaction, they would have burst out laughing from how awkward it was. You who were wary and cautious, and Jungkook who was awkward and shy. A stark difference between your usual timid behavior and Jungkook's confident act. In fact, if anyone else were to see this, they would have never believed their eyes. 

It was odd, after all. And you knew this very well. Which was why you were so confused at Jungkook's behavior. Why was he approaching you so kindly when everyone else ridiculed and shunned you out? You were different, someone who didn't deserve to be there. An imposter, an intruder. It didn't make sense for him to act friendly. 

"Don't take this the wrong way," Jungkook continues, setting down the banana milk in the space between the two of you as he fiddled with his fingers, a habit he had picked up over time. "I'm not doing this to mock you or make fun of you later down the line… I just really don't like the way they're treating you. It's not right."

You're stunned. Rightfully so. This was the first time someone had ever gone against what others did to you, despite him doing so behind the scenes. A weird sensation bubbles up from inside you, one you can't quite place. But what you do know is that amidst it all, there's warmth. Jungkook's words sounded genuine and sincere, not like the usual condescending tone you were used to hearing from the rest of your peers. 

He genuinely seemed to care. 

Jungkook's eyes widen in surprise when he sees you grab the carton of banana milk, opening the straw in pushing it through, taking a sip. You sheepishly stare down, not even bothering to look Jungkook in the eye before muttering. "I prefer strawberry milk… but this isn't that bad... I guess… Thanks…" 

His eyes gleam, happy that you've accepted his offering and watching with a content smile as a small smile of your own forms on your lips, a far cry from the mess you were mere moments ago. He had somehow managed to cheer you up, and that was better than anything Jungkook could ever ask for. 

"No problem. Next time I'll buy you a whole box of strawberry milk!" He exclaims, excited for what was about to unfold between the two of you. 

But he would have never expected this. 

And on this week's celebrity news: Former Vocalist of The 97, (L/N) (Y/N) debuts solo with her new single 'Move On', which fans speculate is a direct message to her ex-boyfriend and former bandmate Jeon Jungkook. 

"Fuck!" Jungkook exclaims, overcome with emotion, as he watches the news unfold in the conference room of his label. He had quickly made his way over the moment he saw the headline, confused, devastated, and most of all angry. 

What in the world were you thinking, dragging him down like that?

"Jungkook, calm down," Namjoon says from the other side of the room, trying to prevent Jungkook from destroying the room. Jungkook was strong. And if he really wanted to, he could turn the whole conference room upside down in a blink of an eye, and Namjoon really didn't want to deal with whatever consequence would follow should Jungkook actually decide that he'd destroy the conference room. 

"How the fuck do you expect me to be calm, Namjoon?" Jungkook asks, exasperated as he walks from one end of the room to the other. "This is going to ruin my fucking reputation. And it's all because that bitch is too bitter about our breakup that she decided to fucking write a song about it."

"Hey." Another voice calls out, stern and ready to scold. Jaehyun, the band's bassist, glares at Jungkook with as much disdain as he could muster, not believing the words that came out of Jungkook's mouth. "No matter how you feel about the situation. I'm not going to stand by and let you call (Y/N) a bitch. She was and still is our friend. Just because you're so caught up in your perfect reputation doesn't mean you have to bring others down in the process, Jeon." 

It was rare for Jaehyun to ever call Jungkook by his last name. The two were as close as could be, having been the best of friends for more than ten years and counting. Jungkook knew he could trust Jaehyun with his life and vice versa, so it shocked him to hear that his best friend was defending her. 

"But Jungkook has every reason to be mad, Jaehyun!" Another voice pops up, this time a more feminine one that has Jungkook's heart-melting just a bit. Eunha, his current girlfriend, and the one who was there for him when you left him. She was the band's current vocalist, and Jungkook couldn't feel any more grateful to have someone as supportive as her in his life.

"She's using a personal situation to make her more popular, all the while bringing us down in the process! There's nothing else to call her but a bitch when she's hurting the band she started with! Is that how she says thank you when the band's been nothing but good to her?

It's incredible, Jungkook thinks to himself, how he was able to find someone like Eunha. She was the most compassionate and understanding person in the world, a far cry from what you had become. Bitter, selfish, and downright ungrateful. You probably wrote that song out of spite just to get back at him when he did nothing wrong in the first place. You were crazy, and he was glad Eunha allowed him to see through all of your lies. 

"Shut the fuck up, will you?" Jungkook's eyes darted in surprise to Yugyeom, the band's drummer, who had just cursed at his girlfriend. He glares at the drummer, mad at the fact that the usual happy-go-lucky man was now acting bitter in front of his girlfriend, who had done nothing wrong. Were his bandmates woven that deep within your cruel lies?

"Excuse me, what did you just say?" Eunha asks, appalled, tears forming from the corners of her eyes, which only causes the anger within Jungkook to grow. How dare they. How dare they make Eunha cry when she was doing nothing but telling the truth?

"You heard me, Eunha," Yugyeom continues, paying no mind to the burning rage that was about to burst within Jungkook. "I said shut the fuck up. So what if (Y/N) wrote a song about Jungkook? Why does it matter? She has every right to. I mean, our next single is literally a song Jungkook wrote after the breakup, so why the fuck are you berating her for doing the same?"

"Because she's hurting our reputation!" Eunha exclaims, clearly frustrated at how Yugyeom and Jaehyun weren't getting her point. "And besides, she was the one in the wrong during the breakup. What right does she have to make a song about it?"

Jaehyun scoffs, glare intensifying, causing Jungkook to clench his fist at their hostility. "And how do you know that when you only heard Jungkook's side of the story and not (Y/N) 's? For all we know, Jungkook could also be in the wro—"

Before Jaehyun could finish his sentence, Jungkook explodes, immediately rushing over to where Jaehyun sat and grabbing him by the collar, causing the rest of the band and Namjoon to panic, trying to break them apart, while Eunha watches, scared. 

"You motherfucker," Jungkook curses, hand raised into a fist, ready to punch Jaehyun in the face with all the force he could muster. But before he could do so, Namjoon and Yugyeom immediately held him back, causing Jaehyun to let out shaky breaths as he glared at Jungkook, hurt, confused, and angry. "Why are you defending her? She was the one who hurt me! You're supposed to be my fucking best friend!"

"Maybe if you actually listened to what she had to say and what she was going through, then we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place," Jaehyun screamed back, anger slowly growing as each moment passed by. "You've always been like this Jungkook, self-centered and fucking mean. (Y/N) was right for wanting to leave."

"What did you say, you fucki—"

"Enough!" Namjoon screams, holding his ground. This had gotten out of hand, and it was beginning to stress him out, and clearly, that same stress was spreading through every single person in the room. This wasn't even supposed to be that big of a deal. All they were supposed to do was listen to the song you wrote, and come up with a statement, So why the hell did this turn into a full-blown fight?

Gosh, Namjoon needed a raise. 

"Jeon Jungkook calm the fuck down, or I'll have you on probation, you hear? The same goes for all of you. I don't want to hear any bullshit about who's right or wrong in the relationship. All I need is for us to listen to the song and figure out what we're going to tell the higher-ups. So stop acting like you're a bunch of teenagers and sit down."

Usually, Namjoon wasn't this scary. But there was a glint in his eyes that taunted the band. And they knew that in the heat of the moment, the best thing to do was to shut up and listen. Besides, he was right. The way they were going, no progress would have been made, leading to further complications. With a huff, Jungkook sits down, staring grumpily into space. He wasn't comfortable with what had just occurred, a frenzy of emotions bottling up inside him from the outburst.

Luckily for him, Eunha was quick to hold his hand into hers, soothing him enough to calm his nerves and mentally prepare himself for what was about to unfold. Because he knew he wasn't going to like it.

And true to his words, the moment Namjoon pressed play, he didn't like it. Not one bit. 

Jungkook couldn't quite pin why your song made his blood boil and heart clench. From an outsider's perspective, it was a good song. A really good song. As a musician himself, Jungkook would never deny that. You had a knack for creating some really great tunes that were out of this world, after all. It was the very thing that made him ask you to start a band with him in the first place. 

But there was just something about this piece in particular that seemed different. Your very aura was different, Jungkook concluded as he watched the video, listening to the way you screamed about how good it was that he was able to move on while you haven't. How you laced memories and fragments of your relationship and expertly wove them together to create a masterpiece that echoed into the very depths of his beating heart. 

It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Because amidst the chaos, you looked free. 

There was something beautiful about the way you were in the middle of a room up in flames, almost to the point where Jungkook knew that it was metaphorical. You liked metaphors. Jungkook remembers how long ago, when the band was just the two of you, you mentioned how metaphors brought out the beauty of the world. They made the ordinary extraordinary. They made the dull come to life. Metaphors were beauty itself, and that's precisely why you loved to play with them so much. 

It's funny to see how that part of you hadn't changed, even after how many years. 

"Jungkook?" Eunha calls out to him, a concerned look gracing over her face. "You okay?" 

Honestly speaking, Jungkook didn't know. The high of his anger had finally settled, and all Jungkook felt was a burning numbness scouring through his veins. It's laughable how mere hours ago, Jungkook was sure that today would be another great day to celebrate how amazing his life was. Yet, here he is, in the middle of a conference room, watching as you submerged yourself underwater at the last scene of your music video, feeling empty. 

He doesn't directly answer Eunha, afraid that if he were to say anything, unwanted words would slip from his lips, and he would unleash another round of chaos and hell. And he was too mentally exhausted to go through that again. So he merely nods, clasping Eunha's hand gently and sighing as Namjoon pauses the video, turning towards the group. 

"Well," Namjoon says, surveying the room to see the band's reactions. But who was he kidding? He knew damn well that the band wasn't nearly overjoyed seeing and hearing what their old friend had to say, especially Jungkook. The poor kid looked lost. "That's that. It looks too vague to be considered a song catered to Jungkook, so I'll inform the higher-ups that it has nothing to do wi--"

Suddenly, Jungkook stands up, causing a deafening silence to befall once more as everyone watches him with cautious eyes, afraid of what he was about to do. 

"I'm going to get a drink," is all he says, moving to head out the door. No one really says anything in protest, Yugyeom and Jaehyun still feeling the aftermath of the previous fight. Only Eunha seemed to be visibly bothered, scoffing at the rest of the team's reactions before quickly latching on to Jungkook's arm. 

"Babe, it's still early in the morning. At least let me accompany you?" She asks, that hopeful glint burning brightly in her eyes, to the point that it makes Jaehyun recline back in his seat uncomfortably, not liking the way she seemed so unnatural. You were never like that. And while Jaehyun knew it was wrong to make comparisons, he couldn't help it. 

You were his best friend just as much as Jungkook was. 

"I'll go alone," is all Jungkook whispers, shrugging Eunha off who is about to protest, but Namjoon is quick to shut her up with a gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking his head when she tries to chase after him. Jungkook needed to settle down and sort his thoughts through if he ever wanted a chance at getting through this situation with you. 

And maybe, just maybe, he could finally make amends. 

“Do you have a dream?”

This was the question that started it all, Jungkook supposed. He remembers the very day you asked him that one decisive question that, looking back, changed both of your lives. For good or for worse, Jungkook wasn’t sure. But as he reminisces the memories of the past and tries to figure out where everything went wrong, he couldn’t help the gut-wrenching feeling that settles within him. It’s so upsetting, in fact, that the moment Jungkook arrives in the pub across the street, he immediately drowns himself in a bottle of soju. 

The two of you were spending the lunch break in the empty stairwell, the same place where the two of you first met and the same place where the two of you gradually started to hang out. It was a quiet space, free from the condescending eyes of the perfection-seeking kids you called classmates. It was a space where you and Jungkook could be free, even for just a little while. 

Sipping on his banana milk, Jungkook looks at you curiously. You were staring at the strawberry milk he had bought you, fiddling with it nervously, not even bothering to look him in the eye. He wonders what goes on through your mind, what thoughts dance around within its hollow crevices, shaking you up and causing you to become a nervous wreck. Especially when the question wasn’t as bad as you were probably thinking. 

“Hmm, do you want the honest answer or the answer everyone wants to hear?” He asks back, looking up at the ceiling. For an elite school, they didn’t do well to maintain the more hidden areas. Was that a sign that they really didn’t care about things that weren’t relevant to them? Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn’t particularly care. It was just more bearable t stare at the ceiling than sit in awkward silence, 

“Honest,” you say after a few moments, much more confident than a few moments ago. After hanging out with you for a few months and observing you within the silence of your conversations, Jungkook somehow knows that no matter what he’d do, you would forever be shy. Regardless if you knew someone well or not, the first moments of conversation would always be parallel to a first meeting. It was a curious thing, honestly. But it was more intriguing once he realized that your confidence grew the more you spoke. 

In a way, it was kind of cute. 

“I wanna make music,” Jungkook says after snapping himself out of his trance. He once again averts his gaze from yours, but this time it wasn’t to avoid silence, but rather to think, to immerse himself in his thoughts. Because this was the first time, someone had asked him what he truly wanted to do with life. The first time someone wanted an honest answer from him, not a polished response set up to please his parents and peers. 

“Not the classical kind, though,” he continues, smiling softly to himself. “Not really fond of it as much as you think.” From the corner of his eyes, Jungkook can see you gaping at him in surprise, and it causes him to chuckle. You were never really expressive beyond the weary walls of the seemingly abandoned stairwell. To the rest of the student body, you were expressionless. Someone who took all the beatings and ridicules with a blank face. As if you were a doll, waiting to be ruined. 

But here, you were much more alive. Much more expressive than Jungkook was used to seeing. It was as if the (Y/N) beyond the worn steps of the stairwell was an entirely different person. A mask you placed upon yourself to protect your heart from the cruel reality you had come to face. And Jungkook was more than fascinated at the fact that you had brought that mask down for him. 

“If I could, I’d do rock, maybe even some metal If I got enough courage,” he continues, smiling to himself unknowingly giddy at the sight of you. “There’s just something different about it, you know? The music runs through your system and gets you all hyped up; you just can’t resist it. And when the beat drops, it’s as if your emotions are on an all-time high, and it weirdly makes you kind of free. It made me realize that this was what music was supposed to be, I guess.”

“Wow,” you mutter, after staying within the silence of your initial awe. “That’s... poetic.” Jungkook laughs at the look of disbelief in his face, shooting his empty carton of banana milk in the air and watching in satisfaction as it lands straight into the empty trash can just right down the corner before turning to you, a grin high on his lips. 

“Oh, come on,” he whines, rolling his eyes playfully. “Why do you sound so surprised? Do I not look like I’d be a good musician?”

“It’s not that!” You quickly exclaim in your defense, flailing your arms in the air to avert Jungkook’s thoughts about the situation. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook was only joking, highly amused at your reactions, wanting to see more. “I just assumed you’d be more into sports, you know, since you’re so good at it? If you ask me, you kind of look like you’d do well in either football or basketball… so I just kind of assumed that was what you wanted to actually pursue. Not that wanting to pursue music is a bad thing! It’s great, it’s just that rock is kind of unexpected....” 

You were beginning to ramble at this point, the shy sheep from within you bursting forth as you fiddled with your thumbs nervously, anxious to see Jungkook’s reaction. Would he be mad at you for assuming things about him off the bat? Probably not, right? You did initiate the conversation by asking him what his dream was, after all. Wait, maybe this was your fault. Gosh, you should have just asked any other question that wasn’t as deep. 

This friendship thing was too difficult for your liking. 

As you bury yourself in your thoughts, Jungkook couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. It was small at first, almost going unheard by you who was so deeply consumed by the matters of your mind, but the more Jungkook laughed, the louder he got until he was full-on cackling, much to your dismay, confusion, and shock. 

“What’s so funny?” You ask frantically, trying to make sense of his actions. Did you say something wrong? As far as you knew, you hadn’t, but what if you had and accidentally crossed the line? You hoped not. You really didn’t want to screw any chance you had at having a real, genuine friend. But to your dismay, your questions remain unanswered as Jungkook continues to laugh, almost as if he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. 

“Hey!” You exclaim, pouting. “Stop laughing at me, Jungkook!”

“I-i’m sorry,” He says after a few more laughs, trying to wipe the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. “I couldn’t help it,” He laughs again, although this time, it seems as if he’s calmed down, sporting a cheeky smile. “Your reactions are just something else!”

Jungkook watches as you become flustered, once more, much to his fascination and amusement. He’s never been the teasing type, or more like, he’s never had the opportunity to become the teasing type, especially with the perfect image he had to curate in front of his peers. But he liked this. He liked being friends with you. It made him all the more free. 

“What about you?” He suddenly asks after a while, feeling that it was high time to cut you some slack. You look up at him in confusion as if you had entirely forgotten why this entire conversation had happened in the first place. “Do you have a dream?”

It’s silent, yet this time, Jungkook notes, the silence is uncanny. It’s not the same comfortable silence that Jungkook is used to whenever he was hanging out with you. It was as if the silence had suddenly crashed down and enveloped the cheery atmosphere in its deceitful arms. A trap, if you will. 

And Jungkook was unsure whether he wanted to break free from it or stay there with you. 

But you take the first step, finally looking up to meet him in the eyes, and Jungkook can feel his heart sink just a tad bit from how empty and solemn they were. “I don’t think so,” is all you say, brushing off the concerned look on Jungkook’s face with a smile. “I’ve never really given it much thought. That’s why I asked,” you chuckle halfheartedly, staring up at the ceiling. “Although I think it would be nice,” you say, smiling a bit more genuinely. “You know, to have a dream?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. How was he supposed to react to that, anyway? No matter how difficult his life was, he had always had a dream. It kept him going, made him push through no matter the difficulty. Dreams were the driving force of life. The hope amidst the darkness. To not have a dream, even just a small one, rattled Jungkook. 

It terrified him because now Jungkook realized that he knew nothing about you despite you being his first friend. He didn’t know the reason why you decided to become a living doll in the eyes of others. He didn’t understand why you subjected yourself to such suffering when, from the small talks you and Jungkook had with each other, you seemed to have a loving family. 

He wanted to help you, to be there for you. Because he wasn’t sure whether or not you were actually feeling lost. That’s what friends were for, right? Jungkook wasn’t exactly sure on how to do this whole friendship thing, but if there was one thing he did know, it was the fact that friends helped each other. 

And Jungkook would be damned if he couldn’t help you in any way that he could.

Soju bottles littered the lone table that Jungkook sat upon. At this point, he wasn’t sure how many bottles he had drunk, but it sure was many, more than he could handle if he were, to be honest, but amidst his drunken state, he just couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Why was he acting like this anyway? 

He was supposed to be happy. His band was one of the most successful ones out there. He had thousands, if not millions of fans, who supported him in everything he did. So why, just why was this insignificant matter affecting him so greatly?

Was it because it was you?

“Dear, are you alright?” The old woman, running the pub asks, concerned as she sets down a piping hot bowl of warm hangover soup, which has Jungkook’s mouth watering to the point where drool almost seeps out, mainly because he only had a bite of a sandwich on his way to the office which Eunha forcibly made him eat. But even so, he couldn’t bring himself to eat, especially with the array of emotions that were burning deep within him. “Do you need me to call someone for you?”

Jungkook stays silent, not even bothering to respond to the old lady, who only grows wearier at the lack of response. He didn’t mean to be rude. It was just that he couldn’t find the strength to actually do anything but wallow in his own misery. His thoughts were going on haywire, with no place to land in sight. 

What had he done to deserve this? He was sure he had done nothing wrong, so why were you doing this to him when all he had done was, be nothing but nice to you? He had supported you ever since the beginning, and this was how you repaid him?

He doesn’t notice how the old lady leaves to call someone from the company, despite him not saying anything. It was probably for the best anyway. He was too out of it to even ask for help. The old lady was right and kind for going out of her way to do this for him. Although it made sense, after all, this specific pub was where Jungkook had been drinking ever since he had reached adulthood. 

Maybe she would call Namjoon? It was likely, but Jungkook hoped not. He was sure that if Namjoon were to see his sorry state, he would scold him until his ears bled out. Although he couldn’t really blame Namjoon, if any manager were to see their client drinking away their woes like he was, they would probably freak out. Primarily since he was known for drinking at most two bottles. Jungkook just really didn’t want to deal with Namjoon right now, especially after what had transpired earlier. 

He hoped that she would call Eunha. Sweet, loveable Eunha, who was there for him when the shitshow that was his breakup with you went down. Even until now, Jungkook was still in the dark of why you had left him and the band, but Eunha was the one who stayed by his side. Ever since he had met her two years ago when she first entered the company, they had become the best of friends. And now she was his girlfriend, and he couldn’t be happier. 

All of a sudden, a familiar voice wafts through the empty pub. One that has Jungkook’s head whipping everywhere it could to figure out where it was coming from. It was sweet, melodic even. But at the same time, it had a hint of melancholy and freedom? Why was the voice so familiar? Where had he heard it before? 

Jungkook’s eyes darted around, trying to see if he could spot the culprit behind his dilemma until they finally landed on the wide TV that sat in the middle of the pub, presumably for their customer’s enjoyment. And lo and behold, in his eyes, he sees you. 

It was a local music show where famous stars would often find themselves performing to promote their new music. He assumed you were there to perform your new single, the one song that had him sitting here broken and destroyed with pride in your chest. Did you enjoy this?

Did you enjoy knowing that he was broken because of you?

He hated it. He hated how bright your smile was the moment he caught sight of the camera focusing on you as the hosts began their interview. You were brilliant, cheery, happy. And it sickened Jungkook to the core. Why did it seem like you were doing fine when he was here all bothered? How selfish could you possibly be? 

But as much as it hurts him, he can’t find it in himself to look away. It’s a strange sensation that Jungkook couldn’t quite explain. Why couldn’t he avert his eyes from you when all he’s been feeling today was pain? It didn’t make sense. But honestly, Jungkook couldn’t tell what made sense anymore. 

He watches you sing, hearing those blasted lyrics that made him rage just mere moments ago. Yet, this time, the lyrics made his heart clench. Perhaps it was the fact that your performance seemed more genuine because you were singing live. But why? Why were you singing those lyrics as if they had genuinely happened to you? Jungkook never caused you any pain, so why did it seem as if you were hurting more than him? 

The thoughts were too much. It was driving Jungkook crazy, and all he wanted to do was drown in them. He didn’t want to think. Thinking heightened the pain that brimmed deep within his chest. He just wanted to float in the ocean of his misery and stay there, hoping that someday he would land ashore and the pain would come to an end. 

Maybe if he took one more shot, it would help? 

He pours down the last remaining soju into his shot glass, not caring if it overflowed and spilled out on the table. Rationality was far out of his mind at this point. All Jungkook wanted to do was do anything that would make him feel numb. 

He raises the glass shakily, ready to feel the burning sensation of the alcohol run down his throat, that temporary relief that made him sink deep down into this endless cycle of emptiness. Yet, it doesn’t happen. 

A hand shoots down to stop his wrist. It’s a familiar yet unfamiliar hold, something Jungkook can’t quite place. Where has he felt this hold before? He looks up, his eyesight a bit blurry from his drunken state, so he squints, trying to see clearly. 

Who was it? Namjoon? Eunha? Heck, Jaehyun?

Turns out it was none of them. 

When his sight finally clears, he gasps in shock, breath hitching in his throat as he takes it all in. Because the person, whose hold was familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time, wasn’t his manager, nor was it his girlfriend or best friend. 

It was you. 

The person, the old lady, had called to get him was you. 

Well, Jungkook be damned. 

When you got the call from the old lady, you were on your way to your new studio after finishing up a schedule you had prior. The past few weeks have been busy for you. Leaving the band and Jungkook was no easy feat. It was a decision that you knew was a high-risk, high reward yet at the same time had higher chances of failure. 

After all, even if you hated to admit it. Without the band, you had nothing. 

Sure, there was the fame that came with all of the band’s success. You were the vocalist, after all. It was exhilarating knowing that millions out there would be listening to your voice, singing music you created with people you loved dearly. But in the midst of all of that, there was nothing. 

Jungkook, Jaehyun, and Yugyeom had everything going on for them. A backup plan in case the band didn’t succeed. A plan B, if you will. It made sense. They had privilege dripping from the palms of their hand, after all. Even if they had their own troubles and doubts, they didn’t have to worry about finding another way out because there already was a path laid out for them in the beginning. 

You went into all of this, risking everything. 

It was a choice that you had seemingly made on impulse if an outsider were to look back at the situation. When Jungkook had asked you to start a band with him, it was during another one of your many lunch dates, as you two had jokingly called it. Only this time, the two of you weren’t sitting on the cold and empty stairwell, but instead, you were in the old music room. 

“I can’t believe this,” Jungkook mumbles to himself as he cranks the rusted door of the old music room open. People barely used it nowadays, much to his disbelief yet relief at the same time. He couldn’t blame them though, the brand new music room was much more enchanting, filled with top-of-the-grade musical instruments than anyone would drool over. 

Well, at least it meant that he could have autonomy over the room (even though that wasn’t really the case). “You’re telling me that you never heard rock or metal before?” He gapes in disbelief as he sits on one of the dusty desks, looking at you with an outraged expression. You sheepishly enter behind him, taking a sip of your drink as you took a seat beside him. 

“You never asked,” is all you say, shrugging. Jungkook looks at you once more incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes and ears. “That’s because I assumed you would have known what rock and metal are! They’re like the greatest music genres of all time. How can you not know it?”

You shrug once more, not really having an answer. Well, you did, but it was probably stupid. After all, if this was his reaction to you not knowing about rock and metal. What would his response be if he were to find out that the only music you’d ever listened to was classical and nursery rhymes? Yeah, probably not a good idea. 

“Well, get ready then,” he exclaims, bringing out his phone, much to your surprise. Model student and Mr. Perfect Jeon Jungkook breaking a school rule? Who would have thought that you’d ever lived to see the day? “Because you’re about to experience an awakening, I tell you. A revolution!”

It’s amusing, really. You had never seen Jungkook as passionate as he was at the moment. Was this what it was like to have a dream? His eyes lit up as if sparkles were floating around him. As if he were about to step on cloud nine and enter paradise. He was bouncing his leg lightly in excitement, a goofy smile on his face that kind of reminded you of a bunny. 

Maybe having a dream wouldn’t be so bad, after all. 

He immediately scoots over to you once he has his phone ready, grabbing his earphones and plugging it into his phone, handing you the other ear. You hold it, a small smile on your face, and hook it unto your ear, not really knowing what to expect but excited all the same. After all, this was the music that made your best friend passionate and hopeful for the future. For sure, it wouldn’t be bad, right? 

Well, to say the least, it was an experience. An experience you couldn’t quite tell if you enjoyed or couldn’t fathom. It was entirely different from the music that you were used to. From the bright and soothing tones came ones that were heavy and thundered on your ears. Yet, in a way, it was exhilarating. 

You could see why Jungkook was attracted to this style of music. In a way, it was unhinged, a little more rebellious than the traditional types of music you were used to. But that didn’t mean it was worse. In fact, that’s what made it more exciting. Jungkook was right. In those few minutes that he had introduced you to the world of rock, you’ve gone through an array of emotions, from confusion to thrill and excitement of the highest level. The rollercoaster of new sensations was, to say the least, intoxicating, 

Because immediately you got hooked. 

“Wow,” you mutter, looking up at Jungkook, who was looking back at you with lively eyes. “That was… something else.” 

“Right?!” He exclaims, immediately jumping off the desk to grasp your hands in excitement; it was endearing to see. Jungkook rarely got riled up like this. Music truly brought out the best in him, you thought to yourself, watching as he continued to dangle your hands in his. “Isn’t rock just amazing? Oh, what I’d do to pick up an electric guitar and play,” He sighs, and you can tell from the far-away look on his face that he’s daydreaming about something and the sight warms your heart. 

“You should,” is all you say, startling Jungkook out of his trance. “I think you’d do absolutely great in music, Jungkook! You should go for it.” Jungkook looks at you, stunned. He blinks, trying to process what you had just said, before clasping your fingers a bit tighter, unsure of himself. 

“Really?” He mutters softly, “You really think I can do it?”

“Of course,” you encourage with a bright smile. “If it’s you, then you can do anything!”

It’s silent for a moment, with Jungkook deep in thought. But you don’t necessarily mind, as more than anything, you understood the weight of your words. Being Jungkook’s friend meant that you stuck by him through a lot of undesirable moments, moments that both of you promised to never speak of unless it was absolutely necessary. 

You knew how much he longed for his dreams. Ever since that rather inspiring conversation you had around a week ago, you knew just how much Jungkook bottled up his true passions and desires, even though there were moments wherein he would freely let them out. 

“Then you have to be there with me,” he says, eyes filled with determination. “I don’t think I can do this without you (Y/N).”

Looking back at it, you chuckle at how swooned you were with Jungkook’s words. It was crazy to think that he had swept you off your feet with a mere ten words that ultimately decided the course of a good chunk of your life. You let him, and for that, you were to blame, But that didn’t necessarily mean that you regretted your decision in its entirety. 

Suddenly, your phone rings from beside you, and you grab it from where it lay in your purse, only to see an old number that you hadn’t seen in a while. It’s been a year, you think, as you accept the call, pressing your phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“(Y/N) dear! It’s been such a long time!” You smile at the cheery sound present within the old lady’s voice, although you can’t deny that you hear a twinge of worry within it. You used to go to her pub every so often back when you were still in the band. And the old lady had been such a sweet soul, acting as some sort of parental figure to you and your bandmates through the years. 

“It’s good to hear from you again,” you mutter, pleasantly surprised at her sudden call but also a bit suspicious because you had no idea what she was calling for. “May I ask why you’re calling me?”

“Ah!” The old lady exclaims, and suddenly the initial chirp present within her fades into a frantic tone that has your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, not sure what to expect. “Do you mind picking up your boyfriend?”

You blink, confused and startled. “I’m sorry,” you say, still not processing it clearly. “What was that?”

You hear a sigh from the other side of the phone. It sounds tiring, exasperated even, Which shouldn’t be the case since the pub usually opens up later at night. It was only open during the day for company employees. And what sane person would cause trouble with this much sunlight out? 

“Your boyfriend dear,” the old lady continues, sounding absolutely done, yet at the same time, the concern was still there, and you swear you hear the sound of glass falling in the back, causing your eyebrows to furrow in worry. “He’s been drinking for hours, and this is more than he’s ever drunk!”

You stay silent, letting it all sink in. The only person she could have possibly been referring to was Jungkook. There was no doubt about that. After all, the old lady’s pub was where you and Jungkook would often find yourselves having late-night rendezvous, drinking the night away as you bonded over whatever life was throwing at you within those moments. 

But now, the pub gave you nothing but pain. 

“Grandma, I’m sorry to tell you this, but me and Jungkook aren’t—”

“—So you’ll come, yes? Thank you, dear! Truly a lifesaver!” 

She hangs up. You stare at your phone in disbelief, shocked at the predicament you had unknowingly gotten yourself into. What were you supposed to do now? The responsible thing to do was to probably phone Namjoon and tell him about the situation. But with what had just transpired earlier today with the release of your single last night and your performance this morning, you’re not so sure he would appreciate any sort of contact from you. 

With a sigh, you turn to head towards the pub. No matter how much you hated Jungkook for the way he treated you within the last few stages of your relationship, you couldn’t leave him alone to wallow in his misery (even though there was a part of you that was secretly glad that he was torn because of you). It would be too cruel of you. Especially considering that Jungkook had been a significant part of your life. 

Huh, guess you haven’t moved on as much as you thought you had. 

Even just reaching the pub brought back memories that you wish wouldn’t resurface. You and Jungkook used to wrestle over who would open the door for the other, and more often than not, Jungkook won. But you weren’t one to lose quickly, even to him. 

The familiar jingle that came with opening the door brought a pang of nostalgia to your heart. When you and Jungkook would enter the pub, just ten seconds after the jingle faded away, the old lady would come out of her quaint kitchen and say

“Welcome home— Oh, there you are, dear!”

Not exactly how you remembered it, but it was still familiar all the same. 

“Hello grandma, how are you?” You greet with a solemn smile, watching with fond eyes as the old lady comes up to clasp your hands within her own. “Oh dear, I haven’t seen you in forever. Why haven’t you visited in so long?” 

You’re not sure what to say. How are you supposed to tell her that you left and broke up with the man she asked you to pick up? That would put her in an awkward position, and you didn’t want to cause stress for the already weary lady. 

“Oh, never mind that,” she says, luckily dropping the subject. “Come in, come in, your boyfriend’s over there drinking in the corner. Did something happen? I’ve honestly never seen him drink this much before. At this rate, he’s going to finish my soju supply before I open up for the night!” 

You enter the main area, and immediately you’re hit with the familiar, comforting scent of alcohol and home-cooked meals, as odd as it sounds. Although the smell of alcohol was by far heavier in the air, and as you turn to look for the source, your eyes land in Jungkook.

And you’re, for lack of a better word, shocked.

It was almost as if he was drowning in an ocean of soju bottles, with some of the alcohol dripping off the table and into the ground or his clothes. Partly because he was pouring himself another shot, which you know he can’t take.

He could barely handle two bottles when the two of you were dating, so why did it feel like he was drinking more than ten. If he wasn’t stopped now, something majorly damaging could happen to him, and as much as you never wanted to speak to him, you couldn’t just ignore him when he was literally on the brink of life and death.

You stomp on over to where he’s at, hastily quickening your steps as he’s about to down his last shot, and before you can even think about what to do, your instincts act on their own, and your hand reaches out to him, stopping him.

No words are spoken. Rather, you can’t find the words to say as you watch with solemn eyes as Jungkook looks at his hand confused. He tries to shake it, to move his arm so he can bring the shot glass to his lips, but you remain firm in your grip, clasping just a bit harder so he wouldn’t push through with the shot. 

He looks around, following the trail left by your grasp until he meets your eyes, and already you can feel the whirlwind of emotions bubbling up inside you. This was the first time you and Jungkook have met after the breakup after leaving the band. You never expected the two of you to meet this way. Although, you supposed life was funny like that. It liked to throw unexpected situations in your face, especially in the most inappropriate times.

You watch as he squints, trying to make sense of who you were before he gasps, arm slacking, falling into the side as the alcohol from the shot glass splatters into the air. He squints once more as if trying to ensure that what he was seeing in front of him was real before stammering. 

“(Y/N)?” He whispers, broken, voice breaking. You try not to let your emotions show, knowing that if you do, he’d only lure you back into him, which was something you did not want at all. You were done. After many months, heck years of being torn apart by him, you couldn’t afford any more pain. It would break you even more than it already did, 

“Hey,” you whisper back, breath hitching as you watch the way Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sound of your voice, loud and clear for him to hear. Even with his drunken state, he can’t deny the pang of nostalgia that runs through his veins once he finally registers that it’s you standing before him. In the flesh. Not a vision on TV or a picture of you from his memories. 

It was you. 

“What are you doing here?” He slurs, trying to reach out to you, but you move away, refusing him any form of affection. Because you two were too far gone for that. 

“Grandma called,” is all you say, the disappointed look in Jungkook’s eyes not going unnoticed. “Asked me to pick you up. Said you’ve been drinking more than you used to and… I can see that.”

You gesture to the empty soju bottles that littered the table with a grimace, turning back to Jungkook only to hear him scoff and point a finger to you accusingly, although with his drunken state, his posture was way off. “Who do you think’s to blame?” He asks, sarcasm laced within his tone. You raise an eyebrow at that, choosing to let him continue before you could offer back any sarcastic remark of your own. 

“It’s you!” He continues, slamming his fist to the table, much to your surprise. “You and your stupid fucking song…. I mean, what the fuck is up that?”

“What the fuck is up with what, Jungkook?” You quip back, eyeing his fist cautiously in the case he would do something dangerous that would either injure him, you, or if worse comes to worst, both. 

“Don’t play dumb with me,” He continues, and Jungkook can feel the irritation, frustration, and fatigue build within him now that he’s finally gotten a chance to let all these raging emotions out. “You know what you did! Why’d you do it, huh?” His voice grows louder, causing you to flinch as you move your chair back just a bit. 

“Why’d you have to ruin my fucking reputation?” 

All of a sudden, it’s like something in you snaps. 

You can’t believe it. You can’t believe the audacity Jungkook had to say something as outrageous and stupid as what he just said. The emotions that were already burning up within you finally exploded as you stared at him with all the anger and disbelief you could muster. 

And here you thought he was drinking because he had finally realized all the wrongs he had done to you. What a fool you were. 

“Excuse me?” You say, exasperated. “What did you just fucking say?”

“I said what I said (Y/N),” Jungkook continued, not noticing the way rage was about to take you into its waiting arms, only to allow you to explode upon him with all the pent-up hurt that you’ve accumulated inside you. “You and your fucking song ruined the band any my reputation. Is this how you repay me after everything I’ve done for you?”

You blink. The words slowly make their way towards you as you try to process them, letting out a chuckle at how ridiculous his words were. “Are you being serious right now?” You say, scoffing at how there wasn’t an inch of regret on Jungkook’s face. “You’ve got to be joking, right?”

You want to give him the benefit of the doubt. You want to give him a chance to prove your ears, mind, and heart wrong. That he wasn’t actually thinking those absurd thoughts that had your gut-wrenching and your heartbreaking after already being broken. This couldn’t be the Jungkook that you knew, right? He wouldn’t be this cruel, right? 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” 

“You piece of shit.” You spat without even realizing it, surprising Jungkook. He’s sobered up just a little from your outburst, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, you regret speaking without any thought. But the more you try to rationalize it, the more the anger burns. This was unacceptable. 

“Reputation?” You scoff, looking at him incredulously. “You’re fucking worried about your reputation when there are bigger issues to be addressed here?” 

“(Y/N) I—”

“Shut up, Jungkook,” you say, cutting him off coldly. “You don’t get a say in this when all you’re worried about is your reputation over a broken relationship with someone you’ve grown up with for the past thirteen years!” 

Wide-eyed, Jungkook gapes at you, and you, in your disgruntled state, take this chance to get back at him, unleashing all the feelings you’ve buried deep inside you. 

“You dare ask me why I’m treating you this way when you’ve been nothing but nice to me?” You mock, his words hurting more than they should. “Do you even bother to ask yourself as to why I broke up with you in the first place, Jungkook? Why I left? Did you even bother to listen to my song?” 

His silence echoes throughout the pub, further shattering any lingering hope that you had about the situation. “No,” he says after a while, firm in his belief as he stared back at you, although his gaze seemed as if it could easily water away. “Didn’t think it was necessary; after all I did nothing wro—”

“—You treated me like shit for the last two years of our relationship, Jungkook. That’s what you did wrong.” You exclaim, not wanting to hear his excuses. “Are you really this blind to not know? To not see your own faults?”

How could he? You think to yourself, the unbearable pain of this revelation thrumming through every fibre of your being. It was painful. Painful to hear that he hadn’t even thought about the situation through your lens. He was too absorbed with what he had going for himself that he failed to see the world through your eyes, and it frustrated you to no end.

Because that breakup broke you like no other. 

Choosing to leave wasn’t an easy decision, by no means. You had risked everything to help support Jungkook in hopes that you would find a dream of your own. You joined the band, knowing that you would put your family’s safety and security at risk instead of pursuing a more stable career like starting a business or becoming a doctor.

You became selfish to follow Jungkook, so of course, you were attached. 

Jungkook, in a sense, was your world. You suppose, looking back at it now, that wasn’t the healthiest decision you took for yourself. But at that time, you could not help yourself. He was your first friend, your first love, your first everything. Jungkook showed you the ways of the world and then shattered it without a care. Of course, more than any other breakup, it would tear you apart.

Because to be honest, loving Jungkook made you happy. You remember when he first asked you out. Probably one of the best moments of your entire life. It happened after your band’s first major gig to open up the local summer festival. The two of you were still calming down from the high of the performance, excited, thrilled to have finally been given the opportunity in front of a bigger crowd. It felt surreal seeing the fascinated faces and happy smiles as they listen to your music.

Jungkook was right. This feeling was incredible.

“Holy shit. That was amazing,” Jaehyun laughs, hugging Yugyeom before turning to hug you and Jungkook. “I can’t believe we just did that!” 

“Do you think they liked us?” Yugyeom, ever the timid one asks. “I felt like I made a mistake somewhere along the second cho—“

“—Who cares, man?” Jungkook says, cutting Yugyeom off with a playful slap to the back. “We just fucking performed our first major gig. This isn’t time to be wallowing down on our mistakes. This is a time to celebrate!” 

You and Jaehyun hollered in agreement, following Jungkook as he dragged Yugyeom backstage where the four of you packed up, took a few commemorative pictures, and made your way towards the nearest convenience store to celebrate the night with some good old ramen, ice cream, and whatever your hearts desired.

It was a fun night, one filled with laughter as the four of you joked about whatever your mind could think of. Jungkook boasted about how he was right about their band getting somewhere, of how Jaehyun and Yugyeom, who were much more hesitant in joining the band, and after months of no progress, we’re beginning to regret it, had nothing to worry about. 

Jaehyun and Yugyeom even mustered up the courage to do a speed eating challenge, grabbing about her round of hot piping ramen and racing to see who could eat it the fastest, despite the heat burning their tongues both literally and figuratively.

It was a night where for once, the four of you didn’t have to worry about life outside of the band. Didn’t have to worry about the social pressure from school or home, Didn’t have to worry about stupid tests or becoming the best, for once the four of you could just be yourselves. Unapologetic and free.

When Jaehyun and Yugyeom decided to pack it up and head home, saying that if they didn’t arrive before their dreaded curfew, then their parents would literally send them to the pits of hell, you didn’t notice the way Jungkook grew silent. Maybe you did, but you were too preoccupied with the nauseated looks on Jaehyun and Yugyeom’s faces as they headed towards the public restroom to flush out the ramen in their system. 

“Hey (Y/N)?” Jungkook asks once Jaehyun and Yugyeom are nowhere to be seen. You hum in response, turning to look back at him, and immediately your eyes become overwhelmed with worry at the serious look on his face as he gazes up at the night sky, seemingly nervous and scared.

“Will you go out with me?”

It’s unexpected, a bomb to your heart if you could call it. You gasp the moment the words flow out of his mouth, staring at Jungkook in shock. Did he really just ask you out? 

You think it’s a joke. A cruel trick of nature. But by the way, Jungkook nervously fidgets from where he sits, and his eyes nervously dart around. Like they usually do during nerve-wracking situations like these, you knew in your heart that his words were true.

And you couldn’t be more overjoyed because you had fallen for Jeon Jungkook too. 

Throughout your many years of friendship, you had gotten to know Jungkook inside out. You were there when he threw a mini tantrum over missing first place in the final exam by one point, knowing that his parents would be disappointed in him. You were there when the two of you went out to buy his first-ever electric guitar after months of saving up money secretly. You were there for him when he was convincing Jaehyun and Yugyeom to join the band, even when he was about to get into a fight with Jaehyun over the matter.

And like clockwork, you had fallen.

It wasn’t particularly hard to do so. Jungkook had this certain charm to him, after all. He was an enigma. He could draw people into his rhythm like it was nothing and have them follow to the beat of his own drum. Sometimes you wondered if there was a hidden secret with the way he could so easily attract people, but the more you hung out, the more you realized that wasn’t the case at all. He was genuine in everything he did.

“Yes,” you say without hesitation, causing Jungkook to whip his head to face you in the blink of an eye, mouth slacking in shock. He blinks, you smile, and suddenly a smile of his own is forming on his face, reaching all the way into his eyes. 

“For real?” He whispers, not wanting this moment to slip away from his grasp. He was so close to having you in his arms, something he’s wanted for the longest time, that he was afraid that if he spoke any louder, he would ruin any chance he got. But your reassuring gaze and gentle hold immediately calm the raging wave of anxiety within him. “For real,” you affirm, and suddenly you’re in Jungkook’s embrace. 

It’s a warm embrace, one that has you returning it back with the same vigor, the same excitement bubbling in your chest. This marked the beginning of a new chapter for you and Jungkook, one where the two of you would walk down the unclear path you have chosen, still remaining by each other’s side, but this time, with hands intertwined.

You just wished it didn’t go up into flames like this.

You blink, snapping out of your trance as you gaze at Jungkook. Once more, seeing the way his lips were pursed into a thin line, his brows furrowed as if he had a lot going on through his mind. Which was only fitting. He had to, or else this wave of hurt and pain would only intensify and turn into something you would never be able to control. 

Remembering the happy moments was something you had promised yourself not to do, for it only brought you into another world of pain after looking at how the two of you were faring now. But in the midst of agony staring right at you, you couldn’t help but let yourself reminisce in hopes of relieving some of that anger and hurt so you wouldn’t do anything out of hand. 

“Tell me, Jungkook,” you finally say after a moment of silence, and you want to curse yourself for the way your voice cracks at the end. You had to be strong. You had to get through this. Because there was no way, you were going to let Jungkook ruin you once more. “How do you think our relationship was going within the last two years?”

Silence befalls the room for what feels like the millionth time, But this one is heavier than the last. Jungkook looks at you with such a severe gaze that you almost falter, forgetting the fact that he’s drunk with the way his eyes bore into yours. 

You dread his answer, not knowing what to expect. With the way, he was acting, and with all the things he’s said and done, you knew that his words would only hurt you even more from here on out. You clutch the fanfic of your sweater tightly, hanging on by a thread. 

But he says nothing.

The heavy silence lasts longer, and the more it persists, the more disappointment and disbelief creep into the cracked crevices of your already broken heart. Was he really going to act this way? Saying nothing at all? Did your relationship mean nothing to him in the past 2 years? 

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, letting out a scoff as your eyes scan his figure. He’s hunched up as if unsure of what to do, what to think, or what to say. There’s probably a flurry of emotions running through his mind, but you don’t pity him. You hope it continues to weigh heavy, as it did to you for the last three years. 

“I was miserable, Jungkook,” you whisper, recounting the memories you had buried deep within, afraid to open them up again at the cost of your already fragile happiness. But to be truly happy, one needs to let go of all the agony locked within. “Ever since Eunha came into our lives, you started treating me like a side character, as if I wasn’t your girlfriend.”

“And no,” you say sternly, already knowing what Jungkook was to say by the way his eyes widened and his mouth slacked, an arm up in protest for your words. “I’m not blaming Eunha entirely, contrary to what you may think. Sure, her arrival started it all. Sure, there were times where she acted so out of line that I wanted to slap her in the face n’s remind her who exactly she was talking to. But I couldn’t. Do you know why, Jungkook?” 

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you take a deep breath as you gather your thoughts. This was the first time you were finally going to let out all of your frustrations that’s been building up inside you for the past few years. It was a nerve-wracking feat, but a necessary one nonetheless, as even in those few moments of speaking, you were starting to feel just a bit more free. 

“Because I didn’t even know who I was anymore.”

Jungkook’s never been this confused in his life. 

It’s as if you had dropped a bomb on him without warning, causing him to be in a frenzy. What did you mean? How could you blame Eunha? Eunha was a sweet girl who could do no wrong. She was there for him whenever he needed that extra support, whenever he needed someone to ground him in this cruel, unforgiving world. 

She was there when you weren’t and was a constant in his life. How could such a sweet girl like her be the catalyst of this catastrophic situation? It had to be a joke.

“You’re lying,” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. The pain in his heart was coming back again, and just when he thought he had finally gotten rid of that after drowning in alcohol moments ago. This was your fault. You and your stupid song, your stupid lies. You were driving me crazy.

“I’m lying?” You ask, and Jungkook looks up to meet your eyes, feeling another burst of pain shoot through him at the agonizing expression on your face. Why did you look so hurt? He did nothing wrong. He didn’t hurt you. He couldn’t have. He had always been there for you. He was the reason you could do what you could in the first place. There was just no way that misery was because of him.

“Jungkook, did you even realize that with how much time you were spending with Eunha, you weren’t spending time with me anymore? Remember how you used to walk me home at midnight after your time at the studio and my radio show? You stopped doing that ever since she appeared.”

Lies.

“For days, I stood outside the company for hours, waiting for you to bring me home because you promised that you’d never miss it for the world. And on the day that I finally decided to check up on you, worried that you might have been overworking yourself? I see you in the studio, laughing with Eunha.”

 Jungkook wanted to scream. He was stressed. He had to make music. Why couldn’t you understand that? 

“And when I confronted you about it? You shrugged me off, saying I was overly dramatic.”

You are. Jungkook insists in his head, thoughts spiraling. What’s wrong with him not bringing you home. Even if he was your boyfriend, he was not obligated to, right? You were supposed to understand him, right? That’s what lovers are supposed to do.

“I thought to myself, maybe you were right. Maybe I was overdramatic, so I did what you asked and shrugged me off. Yet, with each passing day, it felt like I was a stranger in your eyes. Do you even realize Jungkook that ever since Eunha came into our lives, we’ve only been on three dates?” 

You’re too demanding, his mind screams. Three dates? That was plenty for successful stars of your caliber. You had to understand that being under the limelight meant that he couldn’t reserve all the time in the world for you. 

His heart clenches painfully again, and Jungkook feels a sob hitch in his throat. 

“It hurt.” You cry, letting out the words that Jungkook wanted to say. “It hurt so much watching the love of my life and my best friend toss me to the side. Where was the you that promised that you’d always be there for me? Where was the you that promised to stay?” 

You’re crying now, tears streaming down your face as the words you’ve kept hidden for the longest time finally make their way out of your system. Every part of you was screaming in agony and pain, and you can feel the mended parts of your patched-up heart slowly break again. 

“Jungkook, I loved you. I loved you so much that I risked it all for you. I joined the band even though I wasn’t sure of our future because I saw how happy you were. You showed me what happiness could be, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that, but at the same time, you showed me firsthand real pain and heartbreak. And I don’t think I can ever forgive you for doing that.” 

No. Why? You had to forgive him. You were his best friend. Stop. Stop speaking. Stop it. 

“I left because I wanted to keep what we still had within our memories.” You whisper, remembering the night you finally came to your decision. Remembering all the times you cried and broke down, not knowing what to do or where you should go. All the times where you forced yourself to put on a smile on your face and act as if everything was fine even though it wasn’t. 

“And I hoped that in leaving, we could pick up all the broken pieces and create something new with them. Maybe it would not have been a relationship as strong as the one we’ve had before. But at least it was something. And at least I would have still had a connection to you.”

You’re calm now, in a much better headspace than before. But that didn’t mean the ocean of despair that you surrounded yourself in dwindled in the slightest. It was still there, waiting in silence for the moment it could envelop you once more into its treacherous arms and drown you in its suffocating whispers. 

“But what the fuck is this?” 

You can feel the tides begin to sway, and you will yourself desperately to keep them down. With how the situation was unfolding, you needed to be the bigger person. For your sanity, For Jungkook’s, and for the closure that you both needed, which you weren’t sure would ever peacefully come to an end. 

“I never thought that you’d think of us like this Jungkook,” you whisper, and much to your horror, a tear slipped from the crevices of eyes as you hurriedly wiped them, standing up to grab your purse as you stood to leave the pub, not caring one bit if Jungkook got home safely or not, you were too overwhelmed to care. 

“I thought you loved me,” You whisper as you turn to look at him one final time, and all of a sudden, Jungkook is hit with wave after wave of sadness, anger, pain, frustration radiating from you. It suffocates him, and the only thought running through his head were questions of him hurting you? Was this really all his fault? 

“But I guess you only loved yourself.” A chuckle falls from your lips as you make your first step out of the door. Not paying mind to the old lady who looks at you with a worried gaze, you turn to open the door of the pub, only for someone else to beat you to it. 

Lo and Behold, It’s Eunha. 

“You,” She gasps as she takes in your disheveled and exhausted state. Although that immediate shock quickly disappears as she catches Jungkook’s equally petrified state from the corner of her eye. She then glares at you, but you honestly can’t find the energy within you to care.

Because this was never about her in the first place, even if in some way she plays a small part. 

“What did you do?” Eunha spats as she rushes past you to go to Jungkook, not even bothering to hear you out. You sigh, gathering the last remaining buts of courage within clenched fists, and make your way out of the door, leaving Jungkook, your broken heart, and the memories you two shared behind for good. 

Not caring what he would do with those fragments in the end. 

“Jungkook!”

Eunha exclaims, immediately hooking her arms around him and hoisting him up into an embrace. “What happened? What did that bitch do?” But Jungkook doesn’t answer, thoroughly overwhelmed by the range of emotions that had just surpassed him from his conversation with you. 

Was it truly his fault? Was he the reason why things had turned out this way? There was no way right. He had treated you right, right? 

Jungkook tries to convince himself that he’s done nothing wrong, that he was perfectly innocent in this situation. But that nagging feeling deep within his mind and soul screams at him to finally realize the truth. He’s scared. He doesn’t want to know what lies beyond the bubble of happiness he had placed himself in. He doesn’t want to feel the agonizing pain he’s put himself through without realizing it. 

But not doing so would kill him more than knowing the truth ever will. 

So he opens the door to the truth and wallows in the misery of what he’s done. 

To be fair, there was some truth to Jungkook’s words. He had treated you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. And that was because, for the longest time, Jungkook did consider you highly special to him. You were his first friend, the first person he could confide his feelings in, the first person who showed him what love could be like. 

You grew up together, cried together, had your first drink together, stood on stage for the first time together. You had done just about everything together, and Jungkook cherished you more than anything in the world. 

In everything he did, he always tried to make you a part of it. Whether that meant buying your favorite drink or sending you pictures of whatever he was doing, Jungkook always wanted to help you see the world through his eyes because you deserved that much. 

Ice cream dates, sneaking out at night to have some chicken and beer, random dates at the local arcade, a stroll at the beach. You and Jungkook had practically done it all. So, where did it all fall apart? Where did Jungkook go wrong?

“Jungkook?” Eunha calls out, and Jungkook finally musters up the courage to look at Eunha, who was worriedly trying to get him to answer her. Her hold is familiar, something he’s been used to in the past two years, yet at the same time, something was missing within her warmth. An unexplainable feeling he couldn’t quite describe.

And then he realized it wasn’t you. 

Just when did he go astray? When did he start treating you like you weren’t the world to him? For sure, it wasn’t a singular moment. It was most definitely a culmination of many events that led up to his demise. But just how did it happen? 

He looks at Eunha’s worried eyes, those same eyes that he thought meant the world to him within those two years of your break up. Yet, for some reason, he just couldn’t look at them in the same way anymore. Not when there was this hollow emptiness in his heart that called out for you and only you, 

It was like a game of tug and war in his heart. He still loved Eunha; that much was for sure. But he couldn’t deny the love that he had for you as well. He remembered how Eunha was like a breath of fresh air for him. In the midst of all your nagging for him to take care of himself when he was working his ass off making new songs and dealing with management, Eunha was there to simply smile and encourage Jungkook. 

Like a fool, he got lured into Eunha’s charm and held onto it, not noticing that he was letting go of you in the process. 

His heart wails. It cries in pain and desperation of the love it has lost. Why did it have to be this way? Why was Jungkook such a fool? So consumed by his own selfishness, he abandoned the love you two shared and sought another, and now he was reaping what he had sown. 

You were gone. You would never come back. Whatever love you had between the two of you had left and died out. The world was cruel. It had given Jungkook so much hope yet took it away from him the moment he slipped up. Yet, he couldn’t really blame them. He couldn’t really blame you. 

Because he knew you had tried, he could see it in the way your eyes still cried out in pain when you see him. He could hear it in the agony of your voice as you sang passionately in your songs. He knew you did your best to pick up the fallen pieces and try to mend them back together. But all Jungkook did was rip them apart all over again. 

Life couldn’t have been any better for Jeon Jungkook until suddenly it was not. 

And he was the only one to blame. 

© yumeyooa 2021. All rights reserved. Copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform aside from a03 and tumblr or by any means is NOT permitted and will be dealt with accordingly.

➢ taglist: @wearenot7withu @nadiaislas @bbydoejk​ 

#bts x reader #bangtan x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jeon jeongguk x reader #bts jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction

[muffinbeliever]

When the Stars Align [10]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Soulmate!Reader

Word Count: 3615

Warnings: blood, violence, nonconsensual sexual activity

Summary: Soulmate!AU– Everyone has the first words their soulmate says to them tattooed on their wrists. You and your cat are living a normal life in Fort Collins, Colorado when three men come bursting through your door, completely changing your life. Reader-insert story. Starts around S06E08, but Sam has his soul, and it doesn’t really follow the series from there

A/N: hello here is the 10th part! i made a slight change in Dylan’s appearance; i decided to make him a prince of hell rather than a normal demon.

Masterlist | When the Stars Align Masterlist

Dean knew he was being an idiot. He didn’t need Sam or Bobby to tell him that— not that it stopped them from doing so anyway. The first week, he had stayed at a motel, away from Sam’s harsh glares and Bobby’s disdain. He drank himself into oblivion, only leaving the room to buy more whiskey. 

The room was as dreary as Dean felt. The faded wallpaper was peeling at the edges, and there was a suspicious stain on the arm chair cushion. The curtains blocked out absolutely zero sunlight, and he wasn’t sure if it was the perpetual stench of mildew or the incessant drinking that left him with a pounding headache. 

He spent most of his time replaying their last phone conversation, her harsh words ringing through his head.

You don’t get me. Don’t you understand? You chose her.

He wished he could go back and tell Y/N that he didn’t choose Lisa. Or at least, he didn’t mean to. Fuck he was an idiot. 

She told him to stay away, and despite how much he wanted to see her, he knew she was better off without him. She was so pure, so perfect— too perfect— for someone like him. She didn’t need all of the baggage that came with him. She didn’t need the sleepless nights and the nightmare-induced panic attacks. 

Dean was relieved when Sam called on Friday, demanding that he return and help with the Leviathans. Blowing up primitive creatures was exactly the kind of distraction he needed right now. He knew he couldn’t personally keep Y/N safe, but Cas could. He knew that it was an invasion of privacy, that she would hate to know that he was checking in on her, but Dean couldn’t leave her all alone. Not when Dick Roman was still wandering around. 

Weeks passed and Dean had learned that Castiel’s weekly reports brought him nothing but pain. Y/N was in tears and her life was a mess because of him. At one point, Dean couldn’t take it anymore and he was halfway to Baby before he was sprawled on the ground, the weight of his younger brother on top of him. 

It was rare for the Winchester brothers to physically fight, usually opting to maim the other with well-chosen words instead. But, there were a few occasions where they really got into it. This was one of them. Dean didn’t know Sam could fight like that— he’d improved since their last tussle. Bloody and bruised, he finally agreed to not go, resulting in Sam knocking him out and leaving him in Bobby’s panic room for three days, just in case. 

When Cas had finally told the brothers that Y/N was happy again, tears pricked his eyes. He was glad she was happy— glad that she could be happy without him— but it didn’t help the hole in his heart that only grew with each passing day. 

He spent every night drinking away his sorrows in the closest bar. There were women who approached him, showing off their assets and whispering dirty promises in his ear, but he declined. He couldn’t help but compare them to her. His soulmate. His soulmate that was happy without him. 

When he wasn’t passed out, he laid in bed, staring at the concrete ceiling of the bunker, imagining her with another man. Most nights, it was Thomas, the asshole that had the audacity to ask Y/N out even though Dean was still in the picture. He saw her throwing her head back in laughter and rolling her eyes at Thomas’ stupid jokes, that probably weren’t even as funny as Dean’s were. He saw her standing in her kitchen, hips lightly swaying to light humming as she cooked by the stove. He thought of the way her body would mold into his whenever they were in bed, and how adorable she looked in the mornings with her sleepy eyes and bedhead. Dean was no stranger to pain. He deserved it. 

Charlie was an unexpected surprise. Her bright hair and quirky personality both soothed and pained Dean simultaneously. He found her to be a good distraction, as she was a new hunter that he had taken under his wing to train. She was a little clumsy and always questioned his authority, but Dean accepted the challenge. But he couldn’t deny the twinge of pain in his chest every time she made a corny joke, thinking about how much Y/N would like her.

The Leviathans were gone, and so was Dean’s distraction. Without any plans and strategies floating through his mind, Dean was constantly thinking about her. Cas said she had developed a routine, one full of baking, reading, and Thomas. Sam finally caved into Dean’s relentless begging and agreed to go check up on her, under one condition: Dean stayed behind. Dean was crushed that he wouldn’t be able to see her, but he was glad that at least Sam would. She always liked Sam. 

“I hope it goes well,” Dean had said and Sam offered him a smile, his eyes filled with sorrow for his brother. He nodded at Dean before walking up the metal stairs and out the bunker door. Dean wasted no time in grabbing an unopened bottle of whiskey and retiring to the library. He sank into the plush chair surrounded by books and, just like every day, Dean drank. He drank until his mind was numb and he couldn’t feel the chill that seemed to linger in the bunker. He wasn’t sure how long Sam was gone for, only noticing his return when the bunker’s large door slammed closed. He scrambled from his chair and made his way to the War Room to greet his brother. Sam stood there with containers of food and a sad smile. 

“She, uh,” Sam cleared his throat before continuing, “She insisted I bring this back.” Dean nodded, his face stoic and his lips pursed. 

“She also told me to call Cas off,” Sam started before he was interrupted with a growl from Dean.

“No! Someone needs to make sure she’s safe,” he demanded and Sam rolled his eyes. “We agreed to let me track her phone, idiot. She promised to take it with her everywhere she went and to call Cas as soon as there was any danger,” he retorted, and Dean’s shoulders slumped with relief. Sam tossed his bag onto the table, giving Dean a cryptic look, before heading off to the kitchen to put the food away. Not wanting to spend another minute without her, Dean grabbed Sam’s laptop and quickly found the small red dot that sat in Fort Collins. 

The red dot soon became Dean’s best friend, and he spent every minute with it, checking to make sure that it was still there. Sam was kind enough to allow Dean’s laptop access to her location— mostly because Sam needed his laptop for research. The little red dot moved to and from her house, sometimes going to the church down the street and other times going to another apartment. It only took a few clicks and phone calls, and several lies, to find out that Thomas lived there.

It didn’t take long for Dean to memorize her routine, finding that the little red dot followed a precise schedule. She would spend her days at home, the little red dot unmoving. He imagined her lounging around her house with her furry companion. Just after the sun had set, the little red dot would move along the streets of Fort Collins until it stopped at Thomas’. She would stay there for a few hours, always leaving before midnight. Dean couldn’t help the little sigh of relief that left him every time he saw your little red dot move back to your own house, albeit a tad ashamed by the slight joy he found in the fact that you weren’t spending the night.

Dean was enjoying his dinner, munching on fries with a beer in his hand. He was reclined in his chair, his legs on the table of the War Room. Led Zeppelin was playing softly from the computer, and Dean switched between watching the little red dot and playing Sam in Scrabble. At one point, he looked up and blinked, wondering if his eyes were playing a cruel trick on him. They were not. He scrambled out of his chair, yelling for his brother and their angel friend, both appearing in the War Room merely seconds after. The little red dot was gone.

Your head was pounding when you came to, worse than any hangover you’d ever experienced. Stale air surrounded you and it took you two seconds before remembering what had happened. 

Dead Thomas. Monster Dylan. No phone. Fuck. 

Your hands were bound to the hard chair you were sitting in, as were your legs and waist. Your head hung low as you tried to gather the strength to lift it. Through your blood-soaked, tangled hair, you observed surroundings. You were in somewhere abandoned, an old warehouse, you assumed.

Why was it always an abandoned warehouse?

There was no sign of Dylan, your eyes raking the dark building. You closed your eyes, praying to Castiel, or really any angel who could hear, to save you. When there was no flutter of wings or a beige trench coat standing in front of you, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to concentrate on praying. 

“If you were wondering if anyone was coming to get you, they will. Just not right now,” came Dylan’s familiar drawl, and you quickly turned your head towards the sound. He emerged from a dark corner— dramatic much?— a small smirk on his face. 

“Who are you?” You asked, trying to muster as much courage as you could into your voice. He chuckled and walked towards you.

“Prince,” he said simply. When he was close enough, you spat in his face, looking at him smugly when he leaped back, cursing as he wiped his face. 

“You’ll pay for that, bitch,” he promised. 

“No, you will,” you bit back venomously. He shook his head, before pointing to your bloody arm.

“You’re warded, no angel can reach you, which means no little fluffy winged friends or the stupid Winchesters,” he laughed, and your eyes widened when you saw a strange symbol carved into your flesh. 

“What do you want?” You asked, refusing to give into the pain and fighting back your tears. 

“Revenge,” Dylan replied, and plunged a knife into your thigh. You screamed from the excruciating pain, like fire burning through your body. He laughed cruelly as he pulled the knife from your leg. Tears streamed down your face as you watched the hole in your leg stitch back together. The pain was gone and you were confused, until he stabbed your other thigh. You screamed until it healed and he repeated the process all over your body, leaving you in endless pain with no wounds to show it. 

“See,” he said, casually as he slid the blade across your cheek, “I hopped into poor old Dylan long before I met you. I was along for the ride, living life, but then you came along. And what a treat that was. At first I was going to use you as a quick fuck, a tension reliever. But when you came to dinner and you talked about your soulmate Dean and then you received a call from his brother Sam, I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence. Imagine my thrill when I saw Sam Winchester standing in your living room, and he didn’t even know who I was.

“I’ve been looking for the Winchesters, Dean specifically, for a very long time. I never cared much for my brother Azazel’s plans to spring Lucifer from the cage. But when I had heard that the Winchesters had killed him, I knew it would only be a matter of time before they came for me too.” He monologued, but you were confused. You had no idea what he was talking about. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed before he laughed.

“My, my, my it seems like your soulmate is keeping more things from you than you thought,” he smirked at you and you knew he was referring to The Incident™. You flinched, the pain still burning through your chest at the thought. 

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked, your voice hoarse from screaming. He sliced your other cheek open and you felt the warm liquid drip to your chin. 

“Not yet. I’m going to wait until they come to rescue you. I’m going to cut you up in front of him until you’re begging for release, and then I’ll kill you,” he said calmly, as if he were reading a grocery list. Your stomach turned at the thought, and you barely had time to turn your head to the side before you threw up everything you had eaten before. Your throat burned from the bile. He patted your cheek, and you winced at the pain. He gave you one more evil smile before he healed your cheeks and began the torture again. 

You had passed out from the pain, for how long, you were unsure. A hard slap to your cheek roused you. 

“Come on, pet,” Dylan cooed, “Look alive. It’s showtime.” You slowly blinked your eyes open, and when they adjusted you were staring into forest green eyes that haunted your dreams. You blinked back tears when it was evident how much pain he was in. 

“Bean?” Your shaky voice asked. He was also tied to a chair, but unlike you, his mouth was covered with duck tape. He had a cut on his cheek and his knuckles were bloody. He was straining against the ropes that held him, his muscles bulging through his sleeves, as he tried to get to you. Tears spilled down your cheeks at the sight of him struggling. 

“Dean Winchester at last,” Dylan sneered, his voice filled with hatred. Dean’s eyes were hard, and if looks could kill, Dylan would’ve been dead yesterday. 

“I’ve been waiting years for this, and now I can finally take my sweet time with you.” You could tell Dean was trying to say something, but his voice was muffled by the tape. He didn’t even flinch when Dylan ripped it off. 

“You can do whatever you want to me, just let Y/N go,” Dean bargained, but you shook your head. 

“No, please. Don’t hurt him,” you begged, tears in your eyes at the thought of losing your soulmate. Dean’s eyes snapped towards you, and they softened.  

“Sweetheart, no. This is all my fault,” he started. He opened his mouth to continue but was cut off by Dylan.

“How sweet,” he smirked, “Unfortunately, for the both of you, I already have big plans on what I’m going to do, and there’s nothing that will change my mind.” He produced his knife from the inside of his jacket with a flourish and sauntered towards you, his steps playful and light. 

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Dean’s voice bounced off the metal walls, and you shook, not out of fright but from the sheer intensity in his voice. 

Dylan was standing in front of you now, and he turned to smirk at the green-eyed hunter, flashing him a wink before turning back to you. He ran the cool blade down your cheek and to the base of your throat, pressing hard enough to draw blood. You pursed your lips together, refusing to show your pain. When he noticed, Dylan’s smile grew.

“Trying to be brave, Y/N?” He mocked. “You weren’t so brave when you were screaming before. In fact, I distinctly remember you begging me to stop.”

“You’re going to regret that,” Dean growled, but Dylan just laughed. He sliced a long vertical line down your forearm, from your shoulder to the tip of your elbow. Blood gushed from the wound and your shrill screams drowned out Dean’s shouts. Through your tear-filled eyes, you could see Dean struggling in his chair, calling out to you. Dylan made an identical slice on your other arm, reducing you to a sobbing mess. 

“What’s wrong, Y/N? You were calling out for Dean to save you before, but now that he’s here you won’t ask him to help? Or have you finally realized that he is just a useless piece of shit?” Dylan spat at your feet. 

“Dean Winchester is nothing but a coward. He thinks he’s so tough because he can stop the apocalypse, but really, he’s just a sorry excuse of a human. His soulmate is right here, and he can’t even save her,” Dylan finished with a malicious smile. 

His knife traced your collarbones from one end to the other, beads of blood immediately appearing. It soaked through the collar of your shirt and blood dripped from your fingertips. He got on his knees in front of you, and you shuddered when you felt his cool breath against your face. 

The sound of tearing fabric filled your ears as you watched him cut your top from you. Your nipples hardened as they were exposed to the open air, and you were thrashing in your seat. Dean was yelling for you, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. Dylan’s eyes darkened with lust as he took in your exposed chest. Nausea rolled through your body in waves and you desperately wanted this to end. With the knife held against your already bleeding throat, Dylan reached out and fondled one of your breasts, tugging harshly at the nipple, and you screamed. He slapped you across the face. 

“Shut up,” Dylan demanded. There was a clinking sound, and your eyes widened in horror when you saw Dylan unbuckle his belt.

“You motherfucker, I’ll kill you!” Dean screamed, but Dylan paid him no mind. His pants fell with ease and you could already see the outline of his erection in his tight briefs. You felt sick. Dylan didn’t hesitate to pull his cock out, groaning as he pumped it swiftly. He placed the knife on the floor, out of your reach, and palmed one of your breasts as he pleasured himself. 

“Your tits are more beautiful than I imagined,” he groaned. Frozen by shock, you could do nothing but watch. He stepped closer towards you, snapping you out of your daze, and you spit at him. He chuckled and spread his legs apart, fitting your body in between. His head was dripping with precum and you could feel the sticky liquid spread on your chest as he rubbed his cock against your nipples. 

“Dean,” you sobbed, brokenly, wanting him to do something— anything— to help you. But it was useless. Dylan had both of you tied up in unbreakable knots, rendering Dean helpless as he could do nothing but watch. You screamed and thrashed as Dylan’s cold fingers pressed against your body. His hand wrapped around your throat, effectively cutting your breath supply off, squeezing until you saw stars. 

When he finally pulled away, you barely had the chance to catch your breath before there was a searing pain in your stomach. Every inch of the knife cut through you like a thousand blades. Dylan didn’t care about your screams or cries for help, nor did he mind Dean’s death threats. He hummed happily as he carved away at your body. Finally, the pain stopped. Dylan stepped away from your body and your head hung, exhausted from the pain.

“Do you like my work?” Dylan asked, as he turned to face Dean, but his smile slipped from his face when all he saw was an empty chair. You raised your head at the sound of bodies colliding only to find Dylan on the floor while Dean pounded his fists into the demon’s face. The pain in your stomach was unbearable, and your body was heavy, but you had to take advantage of Dylan’s incapacitation while you had the chance. 

You spotted a glint of silver out of the corner of your eye, and your eyes narrowed in on the small blade that sat on the floor next to you. It was too far for you to reach, but you clenched your teeth as you rocked the chair until it was on its side, the impact of the floor against your cut arms leaving an excruciating pain. Your fingers reached for the blade in front of you, and with nimble fingers, you cut through the ropes, each movement costing you more and more energy. 

After your first arm was free, a wave of adrenaline and hope rushed through you, and your second arm was liberated in no time. Your legs were easier to release, as you didn’t have any cuts that caused you pain as you wriggled out of the tight ropes. You tried to stand, but you buckled over from the pain in your stomach. In your peripheral vision, you could see Dean and Dylan fighting, their silhouettes moving faster than lightning. 

You grabbed your discarded shirt and you pressed it to your stomach, hoping the pressure would help. All it did was soak your shirt with blood. You pulled it away from your body and looked at the wound, hoping to come up with something better, but when you saw the cuts on your stomach, you stopped. Your head went fuzzy at the angry letters staring back at you. You swayed on your feet, and distinctly remember seeing Sam’s tall body rush into the warehouse, a shorter man in a suit on his heels, before you blacked out. 

Taglist: @akshi8278 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @lanea-1 @slamminmine  

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x soulmate!reader #dean winchester x y/n #reader x dean winchester #reader x dean #y/n x dean winchester #y/n x dean #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean fluff #dean angst #supernatural series #supernatural #muffinbeliever

[iceprincessviviane]

Flowers of the peace

Pairing: c!Technoblade x Fem!Nymph!Reader

Type: Romantic/fluff; oneshot.

Warnings: mild swearing, mention of angst and injury and silly jokes created by me.

Summary: Technoblade is travelling to the center of smp to get some buisness done. He met Y/n and finally decided to talk with her about a very important case for him. Including more characters.

Words in red colour are Technoblade's voices.

My first x reader fic, spontaneous one.

Today was a quite warm day even in tundra, small layer of snow was covering the ground and sky was half covered by the clouds, which weren't moving a lot. Around was very quiet despite the time, it was almost noon. Animals were resting or sleeping, deadly hound lied calmly around. It seemed, it was such a lazy day. Technoblade went outside holding small backpack and putting something into it. He tied his hair into small bun, rest of them was falling on his back and he was wearing part of casual armor. Phil seeing that, also went outside.

"Hi mate, where are you going?" He asked curiously with gentle smile.

"I'm heading to main Smp part. I have some buisness to finish with Ranboo. I hope in that time it won't be crowded." He responeded and closed backpack.

They both looked at old Ranboo's home in mountain wall. Actually there still were some basic stuff, active farm and some villagers. Enderman hybrid moved to his and Tubbo's mansion in Snowchester two weeks ago. They kinda missed him, but he promised to visit them a lot of times and even stay for some cold weather and fresh air. Also he was still involved in Syndicate stuff.

"Be careful mate then." Philza said with serious tone.

'We miss Enderboy.' 'Let's do it fast.' 'Who will we meet else?'

Technoblade nodded and took Karl. He put a small backpack near the saddle and check everything. Diamond armor was shinning brightly in the sunlight.

"I will don't worry, I just hope to not meet Tommy..." His eyes narrowed. He still didn't forget and forgive young boy.

"Well just avoid bench area. You are going to meet Ranboo in Snowchester?"

"He said that he will be around Community House or Prime path."

"Tell him my sincere greetings." Phil smile widened.

Technoblade jumped at Karl and waved to his companion. Soon he was headed to main Smp part. Today wasn't the day for using a portals. Beautiful weather was conductive for horse riding. Karl seemed to be happy at sudden trip.

}*{

After a two hours Technoblade reached the Community House. He could go to Snowchester first, but honestly he wanted to avoid that area, which smelled like government. He dismounted Karl and took his bridle. Not a chance leaving his horse alone. Here was much warm then in tundra, not coulds and even wind stopped. Around wasn't even a single soul, so he sighted and started to walking down on Prime path. Karl was complelty calm, so he trusted him, but checked his sword, if he can take it fast. When he got near to Tommy's dirt house, he heard Tommy's loud laughing. After reaching the top of the hill he spotted Bench Trio standing there and chatting. Suddenly three pair of eyes looked at him. There was dead silence. Tubbo moved near to Ranboo when Tommy put a hand on Axe of Peace, which hanged of his bolt. They don't have armour, clearly having a good time in this lazy day. Technoblade nodded to them.

"What are you doing here?" Tommy asked with sharp tone.

Since Dream have been in the prison Smp was more calm, most people was minding their buisness, the biggest war was over and it seemed like everyone sighted with relief. Even now this Eggpire cleaned awful vines. Tommy started building his hotel, none was fighting.

"I came here to finish buisness." Techno responed slowly moving his eyes on Ranboo.

Tall teenager looked at his clock, gave himself a facepalm and sighted.

"Oh I am so sorry, I wasn't watching the time..." He said with embarrassment.

"What the fuck man? What deal did you make with him?" Tommy spoke with anger.

'Why he need to be so loud?' 'Just make it done.' 'Cut him.'

Technoblade moved a little bit closer and Ranboo started to search something in his backpack, mumbled to himself.

"Oh... hi everyone...!"

On the path leading to La'Manhole now was standing Y/n with basket full of field flowers and some saplings of roses, tulips and pansies. Her light dress was waving a little on sudden wind and bright smile caused everyone to smiled back.

"Hi Y/n!" Tubbo said and get closer to look at flowers. "Where did you get them?"

"Filed flowers around the... La'Manburg and saplings are from my own flowerbends. You asked me to bring some to your garden and rooms." She responed slowly.

"Oh yes! We asked Foolish of possible ways to decorate garden and flowers for a bees!" Tubbo said with excitement.

When it comes to the bees, Tubbo could talk over and over. Y/n was patience and describe in details flowers which she brought. Meanwhile Tommy moved his eyes again on Technoblade only to rise eyebrows with surprise. Piglin hybrid was like frozen, carefuly observing Y/n. Teenager lips formed into mischief smile.

"I found it!" Ranboo screamed in victory, holding something like gold in his big hand.

Technoblade snapped back to reality and nodded to Enderboy, to move away. He didn't want rest to know, what about deal is. They moved to bench. Karl snorted a little bit.

"Here it is." Ranboo opened his hand, Totem of Undying was inside. Technoblade smiled and nodded to him with satisfied smile.

"As we agreed emeralds and netherite ingot."

They made an exchange, Technoblade quickly hid Totem in his pocket and Ranboo put stones and ingot inside his backpack.

"Pleasure making buisness with you." Blade said with teasing tone.

"You too and I have more, if you want."

" We will see in the future."

Enderman hybrid moved his eyes on his husband and Y/n, there were still chatting peacefuly. Tommy was listening quietly and seemed that he lost interesting at their deal.

'Finally!' 'Let's go home.' 'Maybe stay for a while...'

"Deal is done?" Tommy asked loudly causing Tubbo and Y/n to look at Technoblade and Ranboo.

"Yes. We are done." Piglin hybrid confirmed in neutral voice.

Ranboo moved closer to group, leaving Technoblade with Karl. They stepped again on path after that.

"I think we can head to Snowchester then. Y/n has everything to make gardening and I am willing to help her!" Tubbo clapped hands.

"Yup. I am going to choose my room finally." Tommy emphasized last word strongly.

"Oh you shloud do the same Y/n. As we promised, you can decorate it as you wish." Ranboo said with warm smile.

Y/n lifted head and her eyes meet Techno's. His cute ears dropped a little, but he moved closer to them. Tommy stepped a little to avoid crash with Karl. Soft smile appeard on Y/n lips.

"Technoblade."

"Y/n."

Bench Trio silenced immediately, they could feel the tension in the air. After La'Manburg destruction Y/n lost her home, actually she was neighbor with Ranboo there, but she managed to build one small house in wild fields full of flowers, which was quite away. The closest things were Kinoko Kingdom and Niki's Underground City. Sometimes she wandered to La'Manber ruins and after that usually hanging up with Tommy. She visited Ranboo couple of times in tundra and even had a small talk with Phil. But when Technoblade showed up... they shared awkward silence and shy glances, which were speaking instead of words.

In his retirement they spent a lot of time together, despite the cold in tundra. Her peacefuly pressence caused voices to melt, only quiet whispers appeard. When she was speaking, they were always silence. Technoblade could listen and observe her for ages. They were so diffrent, but something connected them and attraced them to each other. She was standing with Phil on balcony, holding his hand so hard and tears streaming from her beautiful eyes, when Technoblade have been lead to execution. He later told him that Y/n almost fainted when he survived and escaped. She stayed in threshold, knocking sotfly at cottage doors, same day, late night and silence around. When he opened, he immediately put a finger on her mouth and whispering explained that Tommy somehow escaped exile and was sleeping in cellar. So Y/n said nothing, when Technoblade let her in, just hugged him so tightly and burried her face in his chest. With smelling her scent, he calmed himself and slowly forget about rage and happenings on that day.

But after Doomsday everything changed. Technoblade was busy with revenge, deep inside he didn't want to involved Y/n for her safety... but they moved away from each other. She need to build new house, didn't want to completly leave her friends around. Especially when Tommy and Tubbo found in her big comfort. She visited Tommy in exile couple of times, always bringing warm words and usefull advices. After Discs Finale, when Dream have been put into a prison, they needed her a lot. Tommy would never confessed that he had nightmares about Tubbo's death and himself being trapped in cell. Technoblade was busy with forming Syndicate, spending days on planning, building and searching stuff. He heard from Ranboo how Y/n was doing, but there always weren't time to talk.

And now they were here.

'We miss her angelic voice.' 'Stop staring, do something.' 'Stab Tommy.'

"I really don't want to interrupt this strange moment, but..." He couldn't even end, because Technoblade stepped at his foot. His shoes had small heels and was shod with metal.

Y/n giggled softly breaking eye contact with Technoblade and blushed a little bit.

"Can we talk?" Blade asked with deep voice.

"Of course." She nodded then handed her basket to Tubbo. He immediately straigthed his back, because of this important task. Technoblade gave without hesitation Karl's bridle to Ranboo, which eyes expanded and he grabbed it with his full strenght. When horse would run away... oh boy.

"It looks like we got important tasks." Tubbo said with full serious in his voice.

Ranboo nodded to him, when Tommy literally rolled his eyes.

Technoblade and Y/n moved slowly and silently aside, stepping away from path and walking on grass. She faced the sun, pulling her hair together, it laid freely on her back. Some strands still stayed on her face and Technoblade had to use his all strenght to resist taking them off. He just couldn't. Her scent full of flowers reached his nose, taking deep breath felt like heaven.

"Weather is very good." He started slowly and little unsure.

Y/n turned back to him with shy smile, studing hia posture. "Oh yes, it's warmer this days. My flowers age growing fast and I really enjoy the sun." She glanced at him. " Isn't too hot for you in this cape?"

"Well, I am still living in tundra and come on, style is breathtaking "Technoblade spread a little his arms.

Y/n could easily spotted part of armor on his arms and legs. It wasn't his best one, but he was still prepared for any fight. Yes, he looked very good, handsome. She couldn't help her slighty blushing cheeks.

"Are you moving to the mansion?" Techno finally asked, his voice was dead serious.

Y/n looked directly at his eyes with surprise. She didn't expect such a question. "No, I mean they offered me room, to stay in longer visits or if I would like to have a nap. I really enjoy their company."

He made a step closer and lean down, almost forgot how small she was compared to him. They both felt burning glances of Bench Trio.

"I miss you." He whispered honestly.

'We are missing her voice, scent and pressence.' 'We need her.' "We want her.'

"I... I miss you too." She responded quietly.

Pleased smile crawled at Technoblade's lips. Deep inside he was really happy about that, but didn't want to show it in front of Bench Trio. Y/n looked down with sudden shyness.

He took gently her small, compared to his hand. She squeezed lightly his fingers in response. "Would you like to...?"

"Y/n! We need to go, hurry up!" Tubbo screamed while was holding her basket.

"Yeah come one, we have a lot of stuff to do!" Tommy agreed.

Technoblade sighted after this rude cut, but Y/n shrugged with helplessness and playful smile. She hugged him tightly for goodbye, his second hand rested on her flabby waist.

"Meet me here after sunset." She whispered before letting him go.

He nodded before he let go of her hand. Y/n waved to him and went to Trio Bench. Ranboo gave Techno Karl's bridle. He observed while group was heading to Snowchester, then he jumped at horse and started to moving into tundra's direction.

}*{

Technoblade left Karl in hurry, then almost ran into a cottage. Phil frowned observing this from his window, but then shrugged and went take care of his cases. An hour passed and he heard some suspicious sounds from Techno's home, also him swearing. He decided to see what is going on, so went outside and knocked loudly. His friend opened. "Hi Phil, I'm a little busy right now..."

"What happend mate?" Winged man asked looking inside.

"I need to clean whole area..." He sighted with awkward smile.

"But why?"

Technoblade said nothing, it was a little too early to talk about it. "You... need some help honestly?"

"I will be so greatful!" Techno said and went beck to cleaning. Actually he successfuly tided first floor and kitchen, for now put food into a chest and cups into cupboard.

"Chests in magazine too?" Phil asked looking at his friend with confusion. Technoblade made facepalm. "I completly forgot about them... she would like to have order there!" He dropped everything and went down. His companion rose eyebrows with surprise. She?

}*{

Heading second time to main Smp part was faster and full of unsure feelings for Technoblade. Karl seemed to be happy of another trip. When they again reached top of the hill, she was there. Y/n stood near bench in his old crimson cloak, hemmed by fur, watching the sunset. Slowly crimson glow was turned into grey. Horse snorted and she turned head to greet him with warm smile. Technoblade responded with lazy smile and dismount Karl. Moving slowly to her, spotted that she was holding avaraged size, lether backpack and near the bench was closed chest.

"Hi again." Blade said with smile. "I am little bit late but I hope that you wasn't waiting long."

"I actually just came here. Boys let me left mansion three hours ago." She giggled softly.

"You got your room in mansion?"

"Yes... we decorated it with Ranboo's and Tubbo's furnitures."

"So... you have in this chest more personal stuff to put there?" Technoblade asked taking deep breath.

Y/n ignored the question and smiled softly to him. "What did you want me to ask earlier?"

"Well... I think it doesn't matter now." His shoulder dropped.

She looked directly into his eyes. "It matters, because the answer is yes."

Technoblade moved closer with visible confusion. "What?"

"Yes. I am ready for a trip, I have this cloak if it happen to be very cold and even have gloves in pocket."

He studied her figure quickly, under cloak she was wearing warm, woolen dress, completly diffrent that early, light one. High boots and hair braided tightly.

"No." Technoblade looked at her in disbelief.

Y/n nodded and her smile widened. In a blink of eye piglin hybird hugged her tightly. She rested her head against his chest, feeling heat from his body.

'She is going with us.' 'We can't belive.' 'Hurry up, before someone will show up.'

"Let's go, you have to be tired." Technoblade said after a few minutes. He took her chest and pinned it to saddle, Karl stayed calmly. She pated his neck, smiling softly. Blade mounted horse and offer her his hand to help. She grabbed it strongly and sat down sideways.

"Karl can lifted us both?" She asked unsure.

"He lifted heavier things than you sweetheart, you can belive me, he will be good." Techno smiled, he always was impressed by her caring way.

Y/n hugged his waist and again rested her head against his chest. The trip was quietly, they enjoyed each other pressence, when they reached tundra, night fell and snow started slowly rain. Finally they stopped in front of Technoblade's house. Deadly hound didn't even react to new person nearbay and bears was sleeping peacefuly around. Piglin hybrid first dismounted Karl and help Y/n by grabbing her waist and put her on the ground. She nodded in gratitude and grabbed his hand. He took her chest and they reached the stairs.

"You didn't introduce me new visitor?" Phil's voice caught them near doors. Winged man stood in his threshold with crossed arms and playful smile.

"Hi Phil." Y/n said and blushed hardly.

"Tomorrow my friend. You shloud go to the sleep old man." Technoblade teased him.

"I hope you will be gentelman and offer lady a separate bed." Phil winked to them and then went inside his house. "Goodnight lovebirds."

Blade rolled his eyes and opened doors for Y/n. She went inside and looked around carefuly. Nothing changed at all, but maybe one thing...

"You... cleaned whole house." She giggled softly.

"Oh yes and I even created some spare place in cellar for your flowers." He put her chest on the ground and closed door. Their eyes met. Technoblade quickly had covered the distance between them, then cupped her face and gently pressed their lips together. Y/n breathing quickened, same as his heartbeating. After a kiss, their hands found themselfes, when Techno lean his forehead against her.

"I love you." He whispered softly.

"I love you too." She responded quietly.

'We love her.' 'We are going to take care of her.' 'Never, ever let her go again.'

#c!techno x you #c!technoblade x you #c!technoblade x reader #technoblade #dsmp fandom #dream smp #technoblade x reader #technoblade x y/n #dream smp x reader

[suca-loca]

The irrefutable, definite reasons on why c!Quackity most certaintly kins Catra from Shera and the Princesses of Power (2018) :

1.) Been abandoned by people they were in love with

- Karl and Sapnap creating Kinoko Kingdom without Quackity 

- Adora joining The Rebellion and embracing her role as SheRa while Catra stayed with The Horde

2.) Upon losing said lover, the person that was left behind begins to crave power, do evil/morally grey things, and adapts a cold exterior as a defense mechanism

- Quackity tortures Dream, manipulates members of the SMP into joining Las Nevadas, and uses his country as a way to exercise presidential control and gain money 

- Catra becomes Force Captain, activates a portal that creates an alternate reality that almost ends the world, and treats the Horde soldiers with little to no care

3.) When they’ve finally reconnected with their lover it starts off well but quickly descends into something worse that results in further damaging their relationship and then claiming that they never needed their lover in the first place

- Sapnap brings Quackity to Kinoko Kingdom, and everything goes well until Karl calls Quackity a murder. Quackity shoots back with “I’ve had no one and I’ve needed no one. And you know what? I’m fucking glad we didn’t work on a country together because guess what? I’ve realized that I can make it on my fucking own. I don’t need anyone Karl.” 

- Catra and Adora get stuck together in the First Ones Citadel and are immediately confronted with past memories. They have fun reminiscing but upon stumbling a particular memory Catra leaves Adora at the edge of a cliff with the parting words, “You know it all makes sense now. You’ve always been the one holding me back. You wanted me to think I needed you. You wanted me to feel weak. Every hero needs a sidekick, right? The sad thing is I’ve spent all this time hoping you’d come back to The Horde, when really you leaving was the best thing that ever happened to me. I am so much stronger than anyone ever thought. I wonder what I could have been if I had gotten rid of you sooner.”

4.) Despite experiencing betrayal by someone they trusted most in their life, they begin to slowly befriend an energetic, outgoing, optimistic companion that sees the good in them. This friendship will have a huge impact in their redemption.

- Quackity, at first, forms a bond with Slimecicle simply to use him as a spy, but over time begins to form an actual friendship with the sentient mob. As Quackity trains Sliemcicle to take his place, Slimecicle’s questions and upfront honesty makes Quackity admit about how unfulfilling revenge is and open up on how Slimecicle is the first person in a long time he’s kept close to him. Upon Slimecicle’s death, Quackity seems to take Slimecicle’s advice to heart. He slowly begins to open himself up to caring for others, as shown by how he extends a helping hand to Tommy after Dream’s escape from prison 

- Catra forms a bond with Scorpio but upon Scorpio leaving the Horde due to their often one-sided friendship, Catra slowly starts to realize she is the one who pushes people away and should start taking responsibility for her actions. This is further proven by Double Trouble choosing to transform into Scorpio with the parting words: “It’s you. You drive them away Wildcat.”

5.) Are both victims of abuse

- Quackity with c!Schlatt during the Manberg Era

- Catra with Shadow Weaver

6.) *cough* Sexy outfit change *cough* 

- Quackity abandoning his blue jumpsuit for a button-up white shirt, black slacks, and a gold chain 😳😍💦

- Catra starts to wear black knee stockings and a one sleeve shirt with a titty window 😩🥵😳

#dream smp #dsmp #mcyt #Quackity #she ra and the princesses of power #catra