#cringe fail flop whatever fine fuck !!!!

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Sleepovers At The Baji Household feat. A Fed-Up Chifuyu

Summary: Chifuyu just wants to sleep, man, but Baji wants to be a jealous crackhead at 2 AM.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Note(s): I had a little free time and wrote this. So, please enjoy! ALSO, to the anon that sent me a request a few days ago, I saw it and have it filed on my to-do list!!! I will definitely get to it as soon as I get a break in my schedule :)

"Chifuyu, ya wanna see some real discrimination?"

No. No, Chifuyu does not want to see what Baji means by 'real discrimination.'

Does he tell him that, though?

Yes, actually, because it's 2 in the fucking morning and, as much as he respects the other boy, he wouldn't put it past himself to smother him with a pillow after having his dream of cuddling with a sea of puppies suddenly destroyed.

Unfortunately for his sanity, Baji either doesn't hear him or, more likely than not, doesn't give a fuck, because he's already flopping onto his belly and whipping out his phone to do God knows what.

The dial tone that sounds from the speaker a few seconds later makes Chifuyu cringe, especially since it's only ever been a calm silence fit for a good night's sleep prior to Baji bulldozing through it with his absurd question. (At the very least, he's thankful that the latter has half a mind to keep the brightness on the lowest setting, otherwise, Chifuyu would have had to fight.)

On the far end of the row of carefully-laid futons, you shift in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing together at the noise. Rotating onto your side, you unconsciously reach for Baji, and just when he thinks you're being cute and trying to cuddle him, you smack him in the head.

Baji doesn't flinch, instead, takes his pillow and shoves it in your grasp to keep your unconscious self occupied, so that he can focus on getting through to the person who reuses to pick up (understandably so).

Releasing a frustrated groan after being redirected to voice mail for the fifth time, he dials the number again, muttering an impatient, "Pick up already."

Chifuyu feels sorry for the poor soul on the other end. He would've blocked someone following the first call, because again, it's-

The blond has to squint his eyes up at the digital clock on Baji's nightstand, which confirms that it's already 2:22 A.M, further solidifying the fact that he shouldn't be awake right now. And this also applies to the ever persistent first division captain, who insists on bothering who Chifuyu soon discovers is Mikey from the contact ID that flashes across the screen.

Why Baji is so keen on bothering him is a question he doesn't have the mental capacity to ponder over. The most energy he'll expend is to listen in when the call miraculously connects.

"What...?" comes a muffled voice from the receiver, tone laced in an irked grogginess birthed from a slumber rudely interrupted.

There's an absurdly loud, almost angry, roar of Mikey's name, one that has Chifuyu curling in on himself in a futile attempt to escape a sound that should be illegal at this hour.

But you know what else should be illegal?

The fucking whiplash Chifuyu gets when Baji's deep voice takes an abrupt 180°, switching from its normal gruffness to a squeaky, ear-piercing shrill as he screams, "I love you, love you, love you! Do you love me, too, Mikey-kyun~♡?!"

The room is dead silent.

Not a word. Not a murmur. Not a breath.

Just pure, unadulterated silence as both Chifuyu and Mikey process the words that hang in the air, permeating it with a goosebumps-inducing eeriness from having heard such a...a girly, overtly cutesy screech from Baji.

Then-

"What the fuck? He hung on me!"

Chifuyu opens his mouth, thinks better of reacting to the cursed scene he had the misfortune of bearing witness to, and promptly closes it.

Other people may have sleep paralysis demons.

But Chifuyu?

Chifuyu has Baji.

With both hands partially raised in prayer, he begs for the shenanigans to be over and done with.

They are not.

While his eyes remain closed in a last ditch effort to convince himself that it's all a bad dream, he hears a lot of grumbling happening on your side of the room, courtesy of Baji, who's scrambling around in search of...something. One quick peek reveals him fiddling with a phone - yours, to be exact, as evidenced by the distinctive phone charm of your favorite anime character hanging from it.

"(Y/n), wake up for a second," he hears him whisper. It takes a bit of prompting, until he's able to successfully rouse you enough from sleep to elicit any kind of response, which is, essentially, nothing short of an incoherent, slurred mess. Although, Chifuyu is pretty damn certain he heard you call Baji a 'dickhead' for the trouble.

Unperturbed, he continues shaking your limp form, coaxing you into wakefulness with, "Repeat what I tell you, and I'll let you go back to asleep. Deal?"

You squint your eyes at him, only able to make out a vague outline of his visage in the lightless room. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die," he automatically responds with the same phrase he's become accustomed to saying whenever you two made a promise, something done purely out of habit, formed when the two of you were just kids and he wanted to get you to do something absolutely ridiculous either for him or with him. And just 'cause he knows you're more susceptible to complying if he does it, he also interlocks his pinky with yours.

"...Fine."

The approval is his cue to proceed, and it's as he's putting the phone on speaker that he turns back to a regretfully wide awake Chifuyu, mouthing a wordless, 'Watch.'

The phone rings, loud and clear, precisely once and only once.

"(Y/n), what's wrong?" It's important to note that even though Mikey still sounds tired as hell, his tone is much lighter, much happier really, than when it was Baji, which is an offense in itself to the said teen that's off to the side, attentively listening to the conversation unfold.

Then, it strikes Chifuyu, what Baji is trying to do, and fuck does it give him an instant headache.

Meanwhile, your mouth morphs into the dopiest of smiles with the pleasant surprise of hearing your boyfriend's voice, chest instantly overtaken by a warm fuzziness that never fails to make an appearance whenever he's involved. Sappy, you know, but it's true!

A light but firm nudge to your shoulder reminds you of your mission. It's too bad that, teetering along the edge of sleep as you are, the words Baji whispers are barely repeated correctly.

The initial phrase from before, the one Baji greeted Mikey with, is shortened to a simple, "You wuv I...?"

But, without missing a beat, you receive Mikey's confident reply of, "Mhm... I wuv you a lot."

There's a sleepy giggle then - a fucking giggle - before your voices drop to sweet whispers that the third and fourth wheels can't fully comprehend from where they are.

"Where the fuck was my 'I wuv you,' huh?!" Baji whisper-shouts, considerate of your conversation even when ranting and raving. "Shit, I would've taken a simple 'I love you,' too! I've known that bastard way longer than (Y/n), and this is what I get?!"

Okay. Toman's president answers his boyfriend's late night calls faster than he does anyone else's and openly expresses his love for him. So what? Chifuyu wouldn't exactly call it 'discrimination,' per se. 'Favoritism,' maybe if you wanna stretch it, but using as strong a word as discrimination, especially taking into account you two are dating; it's normal? Nah.

"You wanna say 'bye' to them? Mm. Baji and Chifuyu." A pause. "Fuyu, Mikey says 'bye.'"

"Bye, Mikey-kun."

The other person in the room waits, and waits, and waits, and when it's clear that there is no intention to address his presence whatsoever, Baji turns to Chifuyu with an almost scandalized expression, making wild gesticulations with his hands, clearly distressed. "See?!"

Blank blue eyes stare back at him, unblinking. Honestly, it's a common occurrence - Baji spiraling in a nonsensical rage - so it's easy for Chifuyu to block out the muted, jealousy-driven temper tantrum as he takes his pillow in both hands, raises it as high as he can, and-

Sigh.

-lets it flop right back onto his face.

He can't suffocate Baji. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Couldn't. After all, they're best buds, meaning he has an obligation to put up with shit like this once in a while. (Plus, he'd probably get his ass kicked before he succeeds anyway. Totally not worth the beating.)

"Did you hear? Mikey said he wuvs me," he hears you drawl dreamily as soon as you hang up, sounding very close to clocking back out for the night.

"Yeah, yeah. Cute shit. Happy for ya, dude," Baji huffs. Thankfully, he sounds like he's in a similar state to yours, if the yawn that follows his sarcastic comment is anything to go by.

"...He soooo ignored you."

That warrants a punishing punch to the arm, dulled only slightly by the combination of the thick quilt you're swaddled in and the raven-haired boy's fatigue.

"I'll fucking throw you out right now, (Y/n). Don't test me."

"You won't."

"I will."

"Won't."

"Will."

The conversation gradually dies down shortly after, the exhaustion that took its sweet time getting to both of you having reached its peak with the help of the childish bickering. It takes 10 minutes, maybe 15, before two sets of light snores fill the room.

Finally.

Let it be known that there is a lesson to be learned from tonight's events. Really, there is. Y'know, something along the lines of 'Don't agree to a sleepover with Baji, if you plan on actually sleeping,' or whatever.

Alas, Chifuyu's consciousness fades before he realizes what it is.

~~~

"Mikey, be honest. Who do you love more? Me or-?"

"(Y/n)."

"But-"

(Y/n)."

"I-"

"(Y/n)."

Baji is only momentarily discouraged, sharp eyes glaring at the blond that lays his head on your lap after hi-fiving you. He didn't want to do this, but he's left with no choice.

"(Y/n) or Babu?"

From the way Mikey stiffens up, refusing to look at either him or you in the eyes, Baji knows he has him right where he wants him, has him torn between a cute face or a sweet ride.

"Oi! Don't pretend to be asleep! Answer the damn question! OI!"

(After hours of serious contemplation - even though you told him it doesn't particularly matter - it's revealed that, of course, Mikey loves you more. Babu just happens to trail behind as a very close second.)

#mikey x male reader #mikey x reader #sano manjiro x male reader #sano manjiro x reader #sano manjirou x male reader #sano manjirou x reader #sano manjiro #sano manjirou #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x reader #baji keisuke #chifuyu matsuno

[pappydaddy]

Nurse Simon (s.k)

A/N: I had absolutely no idea what to name this. This is just a quick fic I wrote up for Simon to kick off my Fear Street Masterlist so it's not very long, just a little blurb. I wrote this all last night at one o'clock in the morning because I couldn't sleep with my mouthguard in (I had to get it because I chew the inside of my cheeks and lip in my sleep when I'm anxious) and I just rolled with it. Anywho, I hope you lovelies enjoy this very random Simon fic💛!

TV Show/Movie: Fear Street: 1994

Pairing: Simon Kalivoda x Fem!Reader

Not Requested

Simon Kalivoda Taglist: @maybe-alistair

Warnings: Anxiety is mentioned, anxious tick is also mentioned (chewing the inside of your mouth). Not proofread, I'm going to read through all my fics so I will edit this better then.

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

- not my gif -

Laying in bed, Y/N groaned, flipping over dramatically as she pleaded with her brain to shut up. Mouthing the uncomfortable mouthguard around in her mouth, she cursed her brain for making her this way. “Stupid Anxiety.” Her words were altered by the lisp the mouth guard gave her as she flopped onto her back once again, staring blankly up at the ceiling as the silver moonlight flowed against it.

She was still not used to having to wear the mouthguard her doctor instructed her to get after their last appointment. To make things worse, it was a random unopened mouth guard found at the bottom of her brother’s duffle bag. So there was no way of knowing the true cleanliness of the plastic guard (even though she boiled it three times just to be safe). Letting out yet another annoyed groan, Y/N forced her eyes shut, trying to manually shut her brain off so she could get at least a few hours of sleep before school tomorrow.

Just as her brain began to slow down, the unexpected draft suddenly invading her room kickstarted her brain right into overdrive. She froze, trying to figure out if the sheer exhaustion she was battling the past few weeks had finally gotten to her - causing her to hallucinate - or if there was actually a murderer climbing through her window right then and there. Both were possibilities in Shadyside.

The stumble of feet tripping over her knocked-over cardboard cutout of Nick Lachey made her blood run cold, but in a moment of sheer stupidity, Y/N shot straight up in her bed, flicking on her lamp to uncover her murderer. Stunned, she sat there blinking at her boyfriend as he blinked back at her, for some reason scared that he had been caught sneaking into her bedroom at three in the morning.

“What the fuck, Simon,” She exclaimed, her mouth guard making her talk with a lisp. She didn’t realize it was still in, instead, proceeding to grab her pillow from behind her and hurl it at her boyfriend. “You can’t do that shit in Shadyside, I thought you were a murderer.” She wished she hadn’t thrown her pillow at him since she had a strong desire right then to smack him repeatedly with it, but at the same time, she didn’t want to throw both her pillows.

“I’m sorry,” He apologized, holding one hand in the air as he bent down to grab her pillow from by his feet. “Sheesh woman, you have good aim,” He muttered, rubbing his nose after being hit square in the face by her uncomfortably hard pillow. “How do you even sleep on these things? When I sleepover, I just use my folded-up t-shirt, it’s softer than this shit.” He asked, tossing the pillow to its rightful place at the head of her bed.

“Well I’m sorry that with all the great technology of the 90s, we as a human race have failed to figure out the perfect pillow formula, Simon,” She grunted sarcastically, still forgetting about the mouth guard. “Now why are you here,” She demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, inadvertently drawing her sex-crazed, always horny boyfriend’s attention to her boobs. “Simon!”

“Huh, what?” He snapped out of it before looking at her face, jumping back with a small scream.

“What?” She asked, looking behind her for whatever scared him, but there was nothing. Looking back at him, she saw the same look of terror on his face, his shaking finger pointed right at her.

“Don’t freak out babe, but there is something in your mouth,” He whispered, stepping hesitantly towards her bed, too scared to get close to it. “It’s all over your teeth and a tail thing is sticking out of it.” He pulled his top lip up, pointing to his top teeth before swooping it to indicate a tail.

Y/N rolled her eyes, pulling the mouth guard from her mouth, a string of saliva following it. She cringed, thankful their relationship was not new or that would have been mortifying. Simon had always been comfortable around her. At first, Y/N was more careful about what she did in front of him, not being her full self out of fear of him leaving, but being in a relationship with a person for over six months changes that. “It’s my mouth guard, you Baboon.” She told him, reaching over to place it in its case.

“Why do you need a mouth guard, scared of getting tackled in your sleep?” He asked, crawling onto her bed, flipping unceremoniously into the spot next to her, winching when he landed on the hard pillow.

“No, it’s so that I stop chewing the inside of my cheek when I’m anxious.” She barked, grumpy.

“Sheesh, someone’s a little grumpy.” Simon sucked in a breath, looking at her with gleaming eyes. She glared down at him, not wanting to admit that the wide, sparkling blue eyes he was giving her broke through her grumpiness instantly.

“No shit, I was just about to fall asleep when you came falling through my window, scaring me half to death and now you won’t stop talking,” She ranted, pointing at the still open window. “And you didn’t even have half the decency to close the window after you.”

He rolled off the bed, walking over to shut and lock the window. “Well, let’s go to bed together. Might help you sleep, then we can sleep in tomorrow morning.” He suggested, picking up the cardboard cutout, standing it in the corner of the room next to her extensive Cassette and CD collection.

“We have school in the morning.” She reminded him, not looking up from where she was fixing her bedsheets from him messing them up when he rolled out of the bed.

“You’re such a nerd that you want to go to school on Thanksgiving?” Simon asked jokingly, knowing full well that her exhausted brain completely forgot what day it was tomorrow (or today since it was the morning already).

“Shit-“

“It’s all right, I have the day off so I’ll nurse you back to sanity, babe.” He pretended he was doing her a great justice as he flopped back down beside her, pulling her down with him, pressing her back flush against his front.

“That’s not an overly comforting thought,” She grumbled, but he simply shushed her, petting her hair. “Fine,” She gave up, accepting it. “But the only reason I am not chewing you out for making me think I was gonna get murdered is the fact that I am too tired to argue.” Her words slowly became slower and more slurred as being wrapped in Simon’s arms made her feel protected and less anxious, basically shutting her brain off with the feeling of his touch.

Mustering up enough strength to battle against the sudden wave of sleepiness, she reached to turn her lamp off, bathing them in darkness that only the silver moonbeams broke up. Seconds later, her eyelids drooped, cutting out all light. “I love you, Simon.” She breathed out, forgetting her mouthguard.

“I love you too, babe,” He responded. She could feel him reaching over her to her nightstand, but she was too tired to care. “I love you so much that I can’t let you forget your terrifying mouthguard.” He whispered, thinking she was asleep. Gently, he managed to wiggle the mouthguard into her mouth before settling back down behind her pulling her farther into him, snuggling his face into the back of her neck affectionately.

#simon kalivoda #simon kalivoda x reader #simon kalivoda x fem!reader #simon kalivoda fear street #fear street 1994 #fear street #fear street 1978 #fear street fics #fear street imagines #fear street preferences #simon kalivoda imagines #simon kalivoda preferences

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 03: Sticks & stones may break my bones but...

Taunting + Insults

1644 Words; Sleeper Skull AU

TW for verbal degradation

Cole didn’t notice anything wrong when he destroyed the skull.

In fact, the very first hint that something was wrong only occurred when the ninja had finally returned to the monastery, with a promise from the newly-coronated Vania to keep in touch.

And it wasn’t much of a hint, either. Just a sharp feeling that something was off followed by a mild headache that lasted the rest of the night.

It became clear what was happening the next morning.

“Good morning.”

Cole jolted upright, looking around his room frantically. Who had said that?

“Not very bright, are we?” The voice chuckled, and it was then that Cole realized the voice was coming from inside his head.

Cole groaned. “Oh, what now?”

Another chuckle, very clear amusement pulsing through Cole’s head from the source. “Surely you recognize me! I’m only what remains of the skull you used all of your power to destroy.”

Cole froze. That… was probably not good. But he’d destroyed the skull with the spinjitzu burst! He was sure of it!

The skull’s amusement pulsed through his head, alongside what felt like satisfaction? Images—no, Cole realized, memories—followed, impressions of a man casting a spell on himself. A longevity spell.

Cole’s eyes narrowed. That sounded a lot like what Yang had tried to do with the Yin Blade.

Another mental chuckle. “Ah, but you see, the man you’re thinking of was trying to live forever. I merely wanted to live on after death through my own remains.”

Okay. So it was another case of some guy doing stupid things to ensure he wasn’t forgotten. Cole could understand the feeling, but that didn’t mean he’d allow his new mental roommate to stick around.

Getting up out of the bed, Cole moved to get dressed. He’d go to Wu first, who would probably know what to do, or at least be willing to research the subject—and then he’d let the others know the skull had stuck around and might become a problem later.

Cole felt another pulse of amusement, this time tinged with condescension. The skull didn’t speak, exactly, but Cole did get the ideas it was conveying loud and clear.

“I’m not stupid enough to believe that.” He muttered, but… he supposed the skull was making some degree of sense. So he wouldn’t bug the whole team with something so insignificant. Whatever.

Cole knew from experience that Wu was exceptionally good at keeping secrets.

But now Cole could feel uncertainty creeping up in the back of his mind. They had only just returned home from Shintaro. Would it really be fair to spring this on them so soon?

And it wasn’t like the skull was actually a problem. Annoying, definitely, but clearly in no position to do anything now.

Cole fiddled with his shirt uncertainly. “Still… I probably should tell them…”

He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or not.

The skull scoffed. “Oh, go right ahead. Tell them all about how you failed to destroy me the first time. I’m sure they won’t mind.” The skull’s tone was arrogant. Cole wanted to punch it.

But… it had a point.

Cole sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Yeah, it wouldn’t be fair to dump his problems on everything else like that. And how would he even approach the issue, anyway? It’s not like he could just go up and tell them “you know that magic skull Vangelis was using to power himself? Yeah, it’s in my head now criticizing the way I dress.” They’d look at him like he’d taken a hit to the head.

It’s not like the skull was a problem. Having someone else in his head wasn't the end of the world.

Cole would just… wait a little bit to tell the others. But he definitely would, once enough time passed.

Yeah.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole realized he’d probably made a mistake once a few weeks had passed.

Too much time had passed. Now it would just be awkward.

But the skull—Marcellus, that was his name—still wasn’t a problem, so Cole just left it alone.

It was fine. Really, it was.

Cole probably should have known better.

+=+=+=+=+

Maercellus’ taunts got worse.

It didn’t matter what Cole was doing or saying or even just thinking; the necromancer had a snide remark for everything. Training (“You call that a kick? What are you, ten?”), playing video games (“Oops! Another life gone! You sure are bad at this, aren’t you?”), painting (“That doesn’t even look like a bird!”), running errands (“You’re going to forget the milk. Again~.”)—Cole couldn’t get a moment’s peace no matter what he was doing.

Benefits of a mental roommate, Cole supposed, bitter taste in his throat. But honestly? He’d faced much worse criticisms before.

He’d practically been raised in the performing arts industry, after all.

So as frustrated as Cole was, he wasn’t any more agitated than when he was at Marty Oppenheimer’s. Therefore, as annoying as they were, Marcellus’ jabs barely qualified as a problem.

Besides, Cole was a ninja. He had bigger problems to worry about. He wasn’t about to be humbled by something so insignificant.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole awoke to tears streaming down his face.

That… had not been a pleasant dream.

Sitting up, Cole wiped at his eyes with his arm, trying to forget the nightmare.

Marcellus, the little bitch he was proving to be, responded to this by replaying bits of the nightmare like a highlight reel, vague interest and amusement flickering through Cole’s mind.

“What an interesting dream.” Marcellus replayed the bit where Cole fell, and Cole curled in on himself at the memory of it. “You really do have a history with falling. And nobody ever bothers to try and catch you, either.”

“They—” Cole started, swallowing. “It’s not like—” He snorted. “It’s not like they could have caught me. Besides,” he added, before Marcellus could get a snide remark in, “I can handle myself. I’ve done plenty of rock climbing. A fall isn’t going to take me out.”

Some small part of Cole disagreed with that statement, but he ignored that part.

“Ah, but you don’t actually believe any of that, do you?” Marcellus taunted, self-satisfied with his little deduction.

Cole cringed. “Of course I do.” He said, voice softer than he intended. “I can handle myself.”

He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

Marcellus snorted. “Are you really that unsure of yourself? And to think, you defeated Vangelis. I guess that says more about how weak that man truly was.” There was a bitter edge to the sorcerer’s words, disgust and condescension all wrapped into a pretty little mental package.

Cole huffed, flopping back down onto the bed. “Oh, shut up”.

“Why? I’m just stating the truth. It’s not my fault if you’re pathetic enough to feel threatened by it.”

“Just stop, okay?” Cole sighed, brushing his hand through his hair. “I don’t need your bitching on top of everything else happening right now.”

Marcellus hmmed. “Sounds boring.”

Cole groaned, rolling over onto his stomach and burying his face in the pillow. He just wanted some rest, dammit.

Despite his efforts, sleep didn’t come.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole could really do without Marcellus’ snark in the middle of a battle. But he wasn’t that lucky, so he just did his best to ignore the necromancer’s jabs.

But then he slipped up and gave his opponent an opening—Marcellus hadn’t been distracting him that time. That mistake was all him.

The sorcerer laughed, schadenfreude filling his words. “Oh, look at that. Another Cole Mistake.”

Cole flinched, the movement allowing his opponent to get a solid hit in. That stung a lot more than it should have.

He still hadn’t quite recovered by that point, so his opponent took the opportunity to kick Cole while he was down.

Cole gasped at the pain. Oh, that was definitely going to bruise.

Before he could recover and counterattack, though, Kai intervened, saving Cole from making anymore stupid mistakes.

“Dude, is something wrong?” Kai asked, as Cole finally recovered enough to engage another opponent. “It’s not like you to be so unsteady.”

Unsteady. Cole bristled, then clamped down on his first reaction. “I’m fine.” He punched his current opponent harder than he needed to. “Just distracted.” His jaw was set, shoulders tensed, which did not make fighting any easier.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cole saw Kai give him a look. “Then undistract yourself.” Kai snapped, deflecting what would have been a nasty hit. “Save it for after the battle.”

Cole nodded, not trusting himself to say anything more.

Marcellus remained quiet for the rest of the battle.

Cole didn’t fuck up again.

He didn’t do very well, either.

+=+=+=+=+

They got back to the monastery later that night.

Cole slipped away into his room with a half-mumbled “‘m tired” before any of them could question his performance.

Jay had come by his door earlier, trying to convince Cole to open it, or at least open up and talk about whatever was bothering him. But Cole had pretended to be asleep, and eventually, Jay gave up and retired to his own bed for the night.

Cole was laying on his bed, lights off, staring up at the ceiling. It felt like his head was full of static. His throat felt tight. His eyes were dry.

Marcellus was quiet, leaving Cole to his thoughts.

Not that Cole needed Marcellus to criticize him when he could pick himself apart just fine.

It was stupid. Cole was being stupid. He was better than this, dammit, so why did it feel like he was falling apart?

He was stronger than this. It was just a rough patch. He had to be better than this, and he would be.

Right?

Cole grumbled, covering his face with his hands.

Marcellus was right.

“I am pathetic.”

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #taunting #insults #ninjago #lego ninjago #zaz writes #verbal degradation #cole ninjago #marcellus ventrix #sleeper skull au #there's not enough cole whump in this sad sad world #repost bc tumblr sucks #also since they were mentioned: #kai ninjago #jay walker #this piece was longer than i was expecting #but damn if i didn't feel so big brained writing it #marcy's gotta break down cole if he wants to take over his body #marcy would definitely sing that one cut jafar song #''humiliate the boy'' #damn would be nice if the stuff i spent hours on SHOWED UP IN THE TAGS #if this doesn't show up in the tags i am going to scream #okay so it shows up in some tags so i'm counting that as a win

[haught-n-cold-gay]

“it’d be easier if i hated you”

a wynonna earp fic you can read here on a03

summary: 

“Thought I’d visit my favorite sexy ex-enemy.” Rosita smiled as they pulled apart until she saw Wynonna’s face up close. Her eyebrows furrowed before she reached out and gently touched her cheek. “Are you sleeping? Eating?” “Who are you, my mom?” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a brat, Earp.” Wynonna gasped playfully. “Me? Never.” _._._

Wynonna can't help but visit Rosita in the nunnery. She doesn't know why she keeps seeing her or talking to her or why she wants to kiss her, but she's willing to figure it out.

part  i

“Thanks for saving my ass.”

Wynonna let out a soft, almost embarrassed, chuckle. “It’d be a shame not to.”

A smile flashed across Rosita’s annoyingly perfect face and for a moment, Wynonna swore that Rosita was looking at her, like really looking at her, and she felt the urge to reiterate her promise that she was going to get her out of there, no matter what. Even if she was going to be stuck surrounded by horny nuns.

“Wynonna…” Rosita closed the space between them, forcing time to freeze as their eyes locked. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

She felt the warmth radiate off of the gorgeous woman and nodded stiffly, not wanting to admit to her that she hadn’t been ‘okay’ in a long time. Maybe ever. She didn’t even know the feeling. Not really.

“I’ve got my trusty gun again, so…”

Rosita raised her eyebrows. “You’re more than your gun, Wynonna. You always have been.”

Wynonna broke the eye-contact. She had to. She had told herself for so long that being the Heir made her something. Made her worthy. Made her a hero. Losing her gun made her feel like she was nothing. And here Rosita was telling her that she was more than the gun.

“Hey.” Rosita grabbed her hand and pulled her even closer (God, Wynonna couldn’t ignore how good she smelled) and whispered, “I’m here if you need me. Literally. I can’t leave. Come by anytime.”

Wynonna swallowed the lump in her throat and looked down at her hand that was being held by Rosita’s. She didn’t want to cry, not in front of her.

“I’ve got to go,” she breathed out, unable to even glance at her as she pulled her hand away. “Keep that fine ass of yours safe for me, alright?”

Rosita snorted and muttered under her breath, “this ass is yours if you want it.”

Wynonna pretended she didn’t hear that. She just ran toward the celestial green light, never looking back. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She didn’t know what she would do if she did.

part ii

One week later.

Wynonna didn’t know why she was back so soon. She didn’t have a solution for Rosita (she barely had the chance to tell the team about Rosita and the situation the ex-Revenant was in), but here she was. Dark circles under her eyes and demons screaming inside of her, she walked into the nunnery she spent the last few days trying to find through her sister’s copious notes about the buildings on the edge of Purgatory since there wasn’t a mystical green light to transport her there.

At first, Wynonna thought that Rosita was missing amidst the group of nuns, but then she heard her laugh. Wynonna did a double-take. Rosita was in the center of the cluster of nuns, wearing the tunic or robe or whatever the hell nuns wear.

The Heir gulped. She was severely startled by how Rosita in the nun outfit was doing things to her (then again, Rosita could probably wear anything and it’d do things to her). Her mouth felt a little dry and she tried to take a deep breath and remind herself of the real reason why she was here. The only problem was: she didn’t know why the fuck she was here.

“Wynonna? You’re here!” Rosita shouted and pushed past a bunch of annoyed looking nuns. She was running at her and Wynonna’s heart just pounded faster and faster until Rosita’s arms were wrapped around her and Wynonna could breathe her in. And truth was, Wynonna couldn’t remember the last time she was hugged and felt warm.

“Thought I’d visit my favorite sexy ex-enemy.”

Rosita smiled as they pulled apart until she saw Wynonna’s face up close. Her eyebrows furrowed before she reached out and gently touched her cheek.

“Are you sleeping? Eating?”

“Who are you, my mom?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a brat, Earp.”

Wynonna gasped playfully. “Me? Never.”

Rosita punched her shoulder lightly, as if she realized that Wynonna was not willing to talk about whatever was going on with her. “Okay, Ms. Sarcasm.”

“Besides, you’re one to talk. You look like a nun.”

“Well, I do live in a nunnery. And it’s not like there are clothes for me to wear. Want to head to my room?”

Wynonna’s eyes widened, completely out of surprise. “Your room? Are you a dessert before dinner kinda gal?”

“Totally, but I was just thinking of a place we could talk where we won’t be heard.” She nodded toward the group of huddled nuns who were watching them like freaky hawks. Wynonna shivered. Nuns had always freaked her out, but this was even scarier.

“Right, show me the way, m’lady.” Wynonna mentally hit herself for acting so dorky. She’d never consider herself a Shakespeare, but she normally wasn’t an idiotic geek. She coughed and tried to shake away any weird feelings.

(And she tried really hard to not look at Rosita’s ass in the nun outfit as she followed her to the weapon room they killed that fucking demon nun.) (She failed.)

“So… you have your own room? Kinda thought you’d be all in one room, orgy parties every night.”

Rosita closed the door to her ‘bedroom’ and laughed. “We don’t have orgy parties every night. They like being all together and I… need my space, you know?”

The room was still filled with weapons, but in the middle of the room there was a small mattress, a few blankets, and a pillow. It was a nicer situation than Wynonna’s.

“I definitely do know. It’s why I’m living in a damn barn.”

Rosita flopped onto the mattress, grinning as she tried to land in a ‘sexy’ position. “So I’ve got better digs?”

Wynonna couldn’t help but laugh at whatever the fuck Rosita was doing. “Considering you live in a nunnery, I’m not so sure. Living with an engaged couple and teenager versus judgy nuns. Now that’s a conundrum.”

Rosita raised her eyebrows. “Engaged, huh? Waverly and Nicole are tying the knot?”

Wynonna was trying to read her tone. “Hard feelings?”

She cringed and crinkled her nose. “Waverly told you?”

“About your drunken kiss of shame? Yeppers.” She grinned at her, noticing the embarrassment flooding her face. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Seriously. She and Haught totally made up and all that good shit. Obvs, they’re getting hitched. Besides, kissing someone you’re not supposed to is kinda my thang. So no judgment coming from me.”

“And you and Doc?”

That was the absolute last thing she wanted to talk about. Not because Rosita and Doc were a thing, but because Doc had left her. He was ‘disappointed’ in her. As if she needed more fucking shame in her goddamn life.

“I’m not good enough for him,” she finally confessed, in more of a whisper than she had intended it to be. “Even with Alice, I’m not enough.”

Rosita opened her mouth but then closed it. She moved over to one side of the mattress and patted the empty side. “C’mere.”

“What?” She let out a nervous chuckle and crossed her arms.

Rosita narrowed her eyes at her. “I’m not going to rip your clothes off, Wynonna, unless you want me to. C’mon. Lay with me.”

Wynonna gaped at her slightly, a little bewildered by what was happening. She thought about turning around and leaving, but it had been a long time since someone wanted to be near her. Wanted to comfort her. Okay, maybe that wasn’t true. Waverly was always there to do those things. But this was different and Wynonna couldn’t tell why.

Ignoring all the warning bells going off in her head, she slowly made her way toward the mattress and sat down on it. It was awkward as fuck. Too awkward. Rosita placed a hand on Wynonna’s back and she flinched away from her touch like the ex-Revenant’s fingers were scorching. She stood up suddenly, feeling the urge to throw up.

“Wynonna… I’m sorry…”

“No, I’m sorry.” She started to walk backward, back toward the door. “I… have to go. I just remembered, I need to be somewhere.”

“I—okay. I can walk you out—”

“I’m good,” Wynonna shouted and escaped as fast as possible, practically running out of the room and out to the exit. The felt stupid running, but she couldn’t imagine being inside of there for another second.

part iii

Three weeks later.

She was fucking back. With bags in her hand. And whiskey. Fuck.

She had come to the entrance of the nunnery more than nine times in the last three weeks, but she just couldn’t walk inside. She wanted to, she wanted to apologize for being a fucking weirdo, but she couldn’t get her feet to move.

(For a week she had even convinced herself she couldn’t step inside because she was so unholy, so full of sin.)

It was late and she had already been standing outside for a ridiculous amount of time. She was turning into an icicle, but she still couldn’t get her feet working. It was fucked up, she knew. She didn’t even know why she kept coming back, why she even went to see Rosita three weeks ago, why she had reacted so terribly to her touch. Nobody seemed to want to touch her anymore. Not Waverly (who was spending all her time with Nicole), not Jeremy (who was obsessed with planning the Wayhaught wedding), not Rachel (who had been looking at her strangely ever since she found out she killed Holt), and definitely Doc (who avoided her like the plague). And yet when Rosita wanted to touch her…

“Fuck it.”

Wynonna opened the large door to find Rosita sitting there in the last pew, right in front of her.

“I was wondering if you were ever going to enter.”

Shit. “You saw me out there?”

Rosita tilted her head, her ponytail swinging along with it. “I saw you come and go for the last three weeks. It’s like when someone texts you and you see little dots come and go. I thought you were going to leave me on read.”

Wynonna snorted as if it was crazy (it wasn’t). “Definitely wasn’t going to ghost you.”

Rosita hummed. “Sure. What’s in the bags?”

The Heir furrowed her eyebrows. “You’re not going to ask why I didn’t come inside for three weeks?”

She smirked at her. “Do you want me to ask you why you didn’t come inside for three weeks?”

“Fuck no.” Wynonna sniffled and held up the bags for her. “Clothes for you. Y’know. So you don’t have to keep wearing the nun uniform.”

“You don’t think it’s sexy?” Rosita stood up and did a little twirl for her in the aisle.

Wynonna’s eyes were glued to Rosita’s body and she felt heat pool around her body. “You know I find you frustratingly sexy. So if you don’t want the clothes…”

Rosita grabbed the bags from Wynonna’s hands. “This thing is fucking itchy.”

Catching Wynonna off-guard, the woman started ripping the robe off until she was only in her bra and underwear. Wynonna didn’t even have the chance to turn around (not that she wanted to) and blushed furiously when Rosita asked her: “like what you see?” Somehow, it got worse when Rosita put on the clothes.

“Are these your clothes?” Rosita inspected the ripped black jeans and cropped Blondie t-shirt. “They smell like you.”

Wynonna was a little breathless as she looked at Rosita wearing her clothes. She thought it was a good idea at the time, but this was driving her crazy seeing her like this. She couldn’t stop looking her up and down, imagining her own hands all over her and—

She cleared her throat. “Well, I wasn’t going to spend money.”

Rosita snorted. “I appreciate it.”

Wynonna shrugged like it was no big (it was a huge deal). “I brought whiskey.”

“You know how to please a girl. Do you mind if we head to the bedroom? The others aren’t really thrilled at the idea of drinking. For being wild in the sack they’re pretty lame about everything else.”

The thought of going back into that room sent chills down Wynonna’s spine, but she didn’t say anything. She wanted to get over herself. Get over whatever the fuck that happened in that room that sent her over the edge.

Rosita seemed to notice her nerves since she left the door open when they got in the weaponry room and sat down on the floor, not on the unkempt bed in the middle of the floor. It helped Wynonna breathe easier.

Once she sat down a good five feet away from her ex-enemy, the Heir pulled the whiskey out of her pocket and took a swig. It didn’t calm her down as much as she thought it would, but it was a good start. She passed it off to Rosita who took a good sip.

“Tell me everything that happened after I left,” Rosita commanded suddenly and passed the bottle back to her.

“You mean after you tried to kidnap my baby?” Wynonna was still bitter, even if she did forgive her.

Rosita chewed her lip guiltily. “Yeah, after that.”

That was a bad time. Not all of it, but most of it. She didn’t know what Rosita wanted to hear. It wasn’t like she could tell her how hard it was to send Alice away and how darkness started to become her comfort zone. How she could barely get out of bed. How it only got worse when Dolls died and she realized she probably loved him (and that he probably loved her more than anyone else ever would or could).

So instead, she stuck to things that were easy to talk about.

“Waverly and Nicole got closer, obviously. Jeremy fell in love with this guy who is gone now, for reasons that Jeremy won’t get into. I ended the Earp curse and got stuck in a garden, losing a year and a half of my life.” Wynonna drank.

Rosita frowned. “Dolls?”

“Dead.”

She lowered her head and shook it. “I’m so sorry, Wynonna. I know how much you two cared about each other.”

“Yeah, well. That’s what happens when you care about me.”

“Stop,” Rosita told her intensely. “We both know BBD killed Dolls.”

Wynonna shrugged (knowing that Rosita was right but didn’t want to admit it—she liked to wallow in self-pity from time to time). “I feel like I’m a walking catastrophe. It’s why I had to send Alice away. Being around me—”

“You mean being around your life? You got fucked with the whole ‘heir’ thing. Your life is dangerous because of your curse and the town you live in. It’s not you.”

Wynonna felt the tears bubble up. “But what if it is me?”

Rosita sighed. “But what if it isn’t? C’mon. Tell me about the good things. The funny things. The things that keep you going. I’m barely living here, so I need to live through something. C’mon. Tell me one good thing.”

Wynonna knew Rosita was trying to guilt-trip her into telling her something that would make her feel better, but she told her the first thing that came to her mind anyway. “Haught… she’s my best friend, apparently. My first best friend. She’s my best friend even though I told a huge gnome man to marry her instead of me.”

“You didn’t want to marry a gnome? That’s shocking. Please, tell me more. How did this gnome find you? Was he at least cute?”

A freaking smile emerged from Wynonna’s lips. She hadn’t really smiled in the last couple of weeks. It felt weird, but good. She didn’t know if she deserved to feel good, but around Rosita, she felt like she lost control.

So, when Rosita begged her to continue, she did. And after that, Rosita told her something funny about her time on the rocks. And after that, they just swapped stories until Wynonna’s eyes drooped and the ex-Revenant advised her to go home.

And that’s just what Wynonna did. But as she went home, the only thing she could think about was how she just wanted to stay.

part iv

Three days later.

When Wynonna opened the doors, she didn’t hesitate this time. Three nights ago was the best night she had in weeks. Maybe even months. Even if that meant being around Rosita brought up emotions she had been trying to push down.

She had another bag with her today. Food. And when she entered, the nuns darted toward her. Wynonna quickly realized that bringing food was probably not a smart thing to do. She had to zigzag through the group of nuns and headed for Rosita’s bedroom. She knocked on the door and hoped, definitely didn’t pray, that she wouldn’t be walking in on a sex fest.

Wynonna didn’t know if she was glad or not that Rosita was all clothed when she opened the door. Rosita was wearing one of her baggy t-shirts she gave her, with a Velvet Revolver album on the front.

“You’re back and no three week wait? What did I do to deserve this?”

Wynonna held up the bag of food. “I’m not sure, I almost just got mauled by a bunch of fucking nuns.”

Rosita moved aside so that the other woman could enter her room. “They are ruthless. You brought me food? Is this a date, Wynonna Earp?”

Wynonna blushed at Rosita’s smirk (she didn’t know why she was suddenly starting to get flushed when she never had before). “I don’t go on dates.”

“You brought me food looking like that. It’s a date.”

Wynonna looked down at her outfit, confused. She was wearing her normal half see-through shirt and leather pants. She would have worn this even if she wasn’t going to see Rosita. Probably. Okay, maybe she put on the shirt just before she left, but…

“You’re acting like you don’t know that you’re totally hot. Okay, fine, be humble, Wynonna Earp. But owning up to your sexiness is definitely more attractive.”

Her heart raced, but she tried to reign herself in. “Eat the food I bought you, idiot.”

“Happily, Wynonna,” Rosita said and grabbed the bag out of her hand. She started to rummage through the bags until she looked up at the Heir and smiled. “Breakfast, huh? You really know the way to a girl’s heart.”

“I got pancakes and waffles. Didn’t know which one you’d like, so I just—”

“If you don’t have a preference, we can just share them.” Rosita sat down onto the ground and started to pull the boxes out of the bag like they were going to have a picnic. “Are you going to eat with me or are you just going to stand there and watch?”

Wynonna chewed her cheek. She came here with food, so she didn’t know why she was so surprised that Rosita was wanting to eat with her. She came here wanting to spend time with her, knowing it was easier to spend time with her than it was to spend time with anyone else, but she wasn’t quite expecting for Rosita to welcome her with open arms. She was spinning with absolute confusion.

“Earp, sit your ass down.”

She swallowed it. All her fucking fear. And sat down.

“Are you going to leave any syrup for me?” Wynonna asked her, trying to be playful because it was easier than being anything else with Rosita.

“I am no syrup hog,” Rosita stated and passed her the tub of syrup and watched carefully as Wynonna poured it all over her pancake and waffle. “But I have a suspicion that you are.”

Wynonna gasped dramatically. “No, I’m not! I use the right amount of syrup.”

“I can literally hear your waffle and pancake screaming because they’re drowning right now.”

“Oh, please. This is the normal amount of syrup need—holy motherfucking shit, dude! You put butter on your pancakes?”

Rosita raised an eyebrow. “Um, doesn’t everyone?”

“No! Everyone does not! Butter tastes like nothing with syrup on it.”

“Yeah, it probably doesn’t taste like anything when you drown your pancakes in syrup! I’m sure butter would taste like nothing for you.”

Wynonna shook her head, completely astonished. “You are a monster, Rosita Bustillos.”

“Correction, Wynonna Earp, I used to be a monster. Now I’m just a lame old mortal human who can’t step outside of church without completely disappearing and heading to Hell for the entire rest of my existence.”

Wynonna gaped at her slightly. She had tried so hard to keep things light and fun. She should have known that too much had happened to each other for things to not get heavy. They were two very cursed women with very cursed lives. Destined to be enemies, but here they were, sharing pancakes and waffles.

“Even without the curse, you think you’re going to hell?”

Rosita looked down at her food and shrugged. “Might be living in a nunnery, Earp, but there’s nothing about me that’s saint-like.”

“Eh, saintliness is overrated.”

She looked up and stared into Wynonna’s eyes. “There should be a different place for people like us. Good people who have done shitty things to survive. Or in your case, to keep your loved ones alive.”

Suddenly, the food felt like sludge in her stomach. “We already live in Purgatory, Rosita.”

“I know,” she muttered and shook her head. “I’m just saying.”

Wynonna nodded. “I know.”

Rosita bit her lip. “You don’t belong in hell, Wynonna.”

“Neither do you.”

Rosita raised her eyebrows as if she was surprised that Wynonna would ever say such a thing. “Well, then, fuck it. Let’s become some goddamn ghosts and haunt this place. Scare nuns for the rest of our existence.”

A snort fell out of Wynonna’s lips. “You would spend the rest of your existence with me? You don’t even know if I snore.”

“You are so much better than all the Revenants I’ve had to spend eternities with. Besides, the kind of shit we’d get into? It’d be fun. And besides, you’re not terrible being around. We could make it work, don’t you think?”

Wynonna couldn’t stop gaping at her. Rosita was smiling slightly, like this imaginary future of the two of them made her actually excited and warm (in the same way that the Heir was impossibly feeling). And in that moment, Wynonna remembered. Remembered that Rosita was beautiful. Not just sexy and hot desireable, but beautiful. She had noticed when she met Rosita for the first time at the bar. Rosita wasn’t just this amazingly sexy and smart person, she was kind and bright and filled Wynonna up with feelings she hadn’t recognized. For a long time, she thought it was jealousy. But now…

She pushed it down. In the long run, it didn’t matter if Wynonna loved Rosita’s smile and her laugh and the way she could make Wynonna do both of those things with only a few words or look. Because this, whatever the fuck this was, she was sure that Rosita didn’t look at her the same way. Rosita couldn’t. She knew this better than she knew anything. No one ever looked at her that way. Except maybe Dolls (but that didn’t end well for anyone).

She cleared her throat. “Yeah, maybe. I’d have to return to the homestead in my ghost form to check out my sister’s kids and grandkids. Make sure they don’t have sticks up their asses.”

Rosita snickered. “Waverly and Nicole might be the most overprotective parents in the world.”

“Those poor kids.”

“Lucky, though.”

“The luckiest.”

As if Rosita somehow knew Wynonna’s mind was now on Alice, she said, “I never thought I wanted kids. I mean, it was a typical thing for women to do but I… I didn’t want them. Until I couldn’t have them.”

Wynonna’s heart broke. “When you became a Revenant.”

“Yep. All because of fucking Wyatt Earp. No offense.”

She shook her head. “I know he’s a dick, don’t worry about it.”

Rosita smiled softly. “I’m going to change the subject right now. Tell me. What shows have I missed standing on a rock and living in a nunnery?”

The Heir was incredibly happy for the change in subject. “Apparently there’s this new show everyone’s been talking about, Fleabag. Still haven’t seen it yet. Still catching up on Lucifer.”

“Now that’s one cast I would like to smash,” Rosita joked through mouthfuls of waffle. “But only as their characters.”

“You’re talking about Maze, aren’t you?”

“Hell yeah,” Rosita said and winked. “But also Amenadiel. Angels do it for me, I don’t know why. Okay, why is your face like that?”

Wynonna was cringing hard. “I may or may not have banged an angel.”

Rosita dropped her fork. “An angel? A literal feather-covered wings angel?”

“To be fair, I didn’t know he was an angel at the time. I just thought he was a normal firefighter!”

“No one is ‘normal’ in Purgatory, Wy.”

Wynonna groaned. “I know. I haven’t even told you the worst part.”

Rosita smirked devilishly. “Ooh, good. Tell me.”

“Well…” Wynonna hated that she put herself in this position, though she was almost fairly certain Rosita would be the last person to judge her. “Once again, I had no idea, but he was… Waverly’s dad.”

Rosita’s eyebrows jumped. “So… he…”

“Screwed my mother, yes. But while we were together he, like, had no memory of it. So like, he wasn’t being creepy or anything. He legit had no idea at the time. But yep, he was Waverly’s dad.”

Rosita sighed. “Wow. I missed so much. So Waverly is a half angel. Okay, not as surprising as I thought. Makes a lot of sense.”

“Yeah, I mean she was always the ‘good’ Earp, so it—”

“You’re a good Earp, too, Wynonna.” Rosita interrupted with her serious face on. “To be honest, you might be the first good Earp.”

Wynonna rapidly shook her head. “That’s not true. I have fucked things up.”

“I’m not going to argue about this with you. I’ve met all the Earps since Wyatt. They were all pretty terrible. Especially your father.”

She tensed up. Talking about the sins of Wyatt Earp was a lot easier to talk about than the sins of her father. He wasn’t someone she liked to talk about (or think about). Not just because the most traumatic moment of her life was his death. She just didn’t have anything good to say about him (most of her memories of him were bad).

“He was a bastard.”

Rosita nodded as if she knew what Wynonna wasn’t saying. “You deserved better than him. All kids do. Mine was… I was really lucky that he died when I was young. Best thing that happened to my mother.”

Wynonna tried to skip over the fact that she and Rosita seemed like they had similar fathers and said, “I’ve got mommy issues, too, so…”

“I’m sure you do. Who doesn’t? Can I ask you a question, though?”

“Shoot.”

“Why do you keep seeing me? I mean, I’m very pleased that you brought me clothes and dinner and we’re having all these conversations, but you didn’t want to get to know me at all years ago. Actually, I was pretty sure you hated me. Even before I pulled the shittiest move of all time.”

She opened her mouth, a little surprised that Rosita finally voiced how weird it was that they were becoming borderline friends. She didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t know why she kept showing up with stuff as excuses. She didn’t know why she spent all of her days wishing she was with Rosita (though she kept trying to push that thought far far away).

“I don’t know.”

Rosita frowned slightly. “I don’t mind. Seriously, Wynonna. Every time you come, it really cheers me up. You’re—you make me happy. Wow, that came out really fucking cringy, but it’s true. I just don’t want you to think that you have to come see me. I don’t want this to be out of pity, you know?”

“I’m not coming to you out of pity,” Wynonna breathed out, avoiding Rosita’s eyes as much as she could. “Believe me, Rosita, I’m not that nice.”

“So… you’re here because…”

Wynonna shivered and placed her food back in the bag. “Because I don’t know! You’re like the one person I can handle being around right now! I don’t know what else to say!”

“Hey,” Rosita grabbed Wynonna’s hand as she tried to pack everything up, “don’t do that. It’s okay. It’s totally okay. I won’t interrogate you any further. It’s fine.”

Wynonna clenched her teeth together. She wanted to keep her cool. Pretend like she was here because it was something to do. She didn’t want Rosita to know how much spending time with her meant, how it was keeping her going when she felt like she just wanted it all to stop. She wanted to pretend like nothing Rosita said or did affected her.

Wynonna pulled her hand away sharply.

“Shit, I fucked things up, didn’t I?” Rosita asked, worry drowning her voice. “Please, let’s change the topic. Please. We can talk about anything else.”

Wynonna felt sick. She wanted to be able to talk about something else—anything else—but her mind was swarming with thoughts she couldn’t control when she normally could. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t say anything but she couldn’t quite move either. She was frozen. Paralyzed.  

“Wynonna…”

“I can’t—” her throat felt so dry, so dry. “I can’t—I need to leave.”

She stumbled as she stood up. Blood rushed to her head and for a second, she thought her dizziness would send her to the ground, but Rosita had gotten a hold of her. The ex-Revenant was holding her up, unwilling to let her fall.

Wynonna was trembling, but she was held tight. She didn’t want to enjoy it, Rosita’s embrace. She hated that the ex-Revenant was stronger than her. Wynonna hadn’t been sleeping, hadn’t been eating. She had been feeling weak for a long time. And as much as she hated it, it felt nice being held.

Rosita smelled like a burning candle. Cinnamon.

“You don’t need to leave,” Rosita whispered into her ear. “You can stay. Please, stay. I don’t want you to go out like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’ll fall apart if I let you go.”

Wynonna scoffed quietly. “I won’t fall apart.”

“Okay.”

“I won’t.”

“Okay.”

Rosita still hadn’t let go. And even though all the warning bells were going off in her head, Wynonna didn’t make her. She just let it all happen.

She let Rosita hold her until their arms became numb. She let Rosita drag her to the mattress. She let Rosita tenderly place her on the bed and wrap her up in blankets. She let Rosita wrap her arms around her. She let Rosita breathe into her neck, her skin. She let Rosita trace circles around her hands.

“I really hope one day you can tell me what’s going on,” Rosita told her as Wynonna began to feel drowsy. “I’m here. No matter what, I’m here.”

She let Rosita embrace her until she fell asleep.

part v

Six hours later.

Nicole was blue. Blue and dead. Dead and blue. Wynonna was screaming for help, but no one could hear her. No one could see Nicole’s dead body in the tub. She was dead and there was nothing she could do. She blinked and the body was Waverly. She blinked and the body was Rachel. She blinked and the body was Jeremy. She blinked and the body was Doc. She blinked and the body was Rosita. She blinked and the body was Alice.

She woke up breathless in a cold sweat. Rosita was already all over her, asking if she was okay, asking if she could do anything. She just shook her head and sat up. She felt like throwing up, but she swallowed the bile.

“I need to get home,” Wynonna muttered, her voice hoarse and so wrong sounding. She scrambled up from the bed and said, “I have to—I need to make sure they’re okay.”  

“Okay,” Rosita said and started helping Wynonna get her things together. “I get it. But maybe you should call your sister. I don’t think you should leave like—”

“I’ll be fine,” Wynonna stated firmly. Rosita looked unsatisfied with that answer. “I’m fine, Rosie, I promise.”

Rosita raised her eyebrows at the nickname, but didn’t say anything. “Okay. Wynonna, please stay safe. Dammit, I wish you could call me when you got home.”

“Fuck, I almost forgot.” Wynonna pulled out the cheap phone she bought and passed it to the other woman. “This is for you.”

Rosita’s eyebrows shot up. “You got me a phone?”

“A burner phone. Don’t get too excited.” She tried to joke, but Rosita looked just as concerned. “I’ll call you. I already programmed my number in there. That way I can text you before I come so I don’t interrupt your sexcapades.”

That seemed to reassure her somewhat. “So you’ll call? When you get home?”

Wynonna’s face softened. “I will. Promise. I’ll see you later, Bustillos.”

She left before giving her the chance to say goodbye back.

part vi

One day later.

Rosita was waiting for her. Wynonna had texted her, telling her she was coming. She had a long day hunting a demon who was feasting on livers. It reminded her of an x-files episode. Or Hannibal Lecter. Either way, it ended up with her asking for Doc’s help, who she found shacked up with Amon at the Glory Hole. Wynonna pretended like it wasn’t like a punch to the stomach. Doc and Amon helped and in the end, Wynonna was covered with the demon’s guts. Which was why she showed up to the nunnery after taking seven showers.

“Your hair…” Rosita grinned and reached for Wynonna’s wet hair. “It’s stringy.”

Wynonna pouted. “It’s wet.”

“That’s what she said. Come on, Wynonna. I have food this time. I was able to get this Uber Eats thing on my new phone. I stole a little bit from the collective bank.”

Wynonna gasped dramatically. “You sinner. Right in front of God. Savage.”

“I thought so,” Rosita smirked and started to head toward her room with Wynonna. “I do have to say, the nuns are starting to dislike me.”

The Heir snorted. “Why?”

Rosita lowered her voice. “They don’t like you hanging around.”

“Ah,” Wynonna muttered and closed the door behind them. “They don’t like me taking you away from their sexy times?”

“Probably. Here. I bought tacos. You love them, right? I think I remember you and Waverly having them all the time.”

She held up the bag of food and Wynonna’s mouth watered. “You’re my savior. I deserve a fucking treat. I not only had demon guts all over me, I saw my baby daddy’s tongue in another dude’s mouth.”

Rosita winced. “Ouch. That must hurt. Speaking of, I’m sorry he and I were… you know.”

Wynonna’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you apologizing? Doc tends to want me until he doesn’t. Besides, who wouldn’t want a complete brilliant sexy genius like you?”

She smiled up at her and passed her a taco. “Thanks, but plenty of people. So, how do you feel about Doc being with someone else?”

Wynonna shrugged and took a bite. “It hurt, but it’s happened plenty of times for me to be used to it by now. I just thought… we seemed to be getting somewhere before… but it hurts less than I think it should.”

“What do you mean?”

She didn’t quite know how to explain what she meant. She had been thinking about it a lot. Ever since she had first met with Rosita again.

“Have you ever felt like you’ve… fallen for the idea of a person, or something that they represent, but not the actual person?”

Rosita tilted her head. “I’m not sure if I have, but I understand what you mean.”

“Doc believed in me before anyone else did. And then… and then I had his baby and I… I don’t know.”

“Well,” Rosita grinned at her, her hair falling into her face. “Doc is making the biggest mistake of his whole entire existence. How’s the taco?”

Wynonna felt her cheeks redden with heat. “So much better than when it’s vegan. You are a hero.”

“Ha. It was easy. So, tell me about this demon. Are there that many left in Purgatory?”

Wynonna told Rosita all about the Purgatory that she was still getting used to after being gone for a year and a half. She told her about the turbulent relationship between demons and humans, how there were demons that had a resemblance of class (like Amon) and those that were so hungry for human flesh that they couldn’t help it.

She told her about how Nicole was back as sheriff and that being a part of BBD was weird and felt wrong, especially after what they did to Dolls. She talked about training Rachel, trying to make her into a fighter. She talked about seeing herself in the teenager, but how she also saw Nicole in her. A lot of Nicole in her.

She told her about the Wayhaught wedding planning. How they were planning to have the wedding on Earp land (a little afraid to have it anywhere else and have it interrupted by demons). How Wynonna didn’t know if she was going to be Nicole or Wynonna’s maid or honor/best man. How Jeremy was getting obsessed with all the little details.

Rosita absorbed everything, listening intently to everything she said. Nodding along, asking questions, and laughing at the right moments. Wynonna was surprised to find that she enjoyed telling Rosita things. The good things. And when she was done, she told Rosita to recount her own last few weeks.

When they were done with their tacos and collapsed onto the mattress, Rosita talked about the other nuns and all the gossip that happened between the nuns. She talked about the nuns who fought over her and each other, making Wynonna crack up with laughter. Laughing made her feel lighter, freer. For once like her world wasn’t collapsing beneath her.

“Uh oh. What is this? Wynonna Earp laughing at my stories? Is it possible?” Rosita was on her side, facing Wynonna who was mirroring her.

“Don’t get so full of yourself,” Wynonna joked and smiled, trying her hardest not to pay attention to Rosita’s eyes or her lips or her chest. “I only find you marginally funny. I’m mostly just laughing at you.”

“Nah, Earp. You think I’m funny.”

“Funny looking, maybe. Looks aren’t everything, you know.”

Rosita pursed her lips and let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re a dick, you know that, right? You can’t even admit that you think I’m funny.”

“Why would I do that? It would give you a big head. You’re already gorgeous and brilliant, if you thought you were funny, your ego would just multiply in size.”

Rosita raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You think I’m gorgeous?”

Wynonna rolled her eyes. “As if you didn’t know that.”

“Maybe I just hoped you did.”

Their eyes locked. Wynonna felt her chest pounding and her stomach flutter. For a second, she thought she could drown in Rosita’s eyes. She knew she could do it without any effort. And in that moment, she thought she could kiss her. Taste her. Love her.

No.

Wynonna looked away and laid flat on her back. She didn’t want to see her. She didn’t want to keep looking at her lips or drowning in her eyes. That territory was dangerous. Because what they had here was great. It was easy. It felt good. And there was no way she was going to risk losing it.

“So, what’s the rude nun’s deal? Cecilia? Why is she always glaring at me?”

Rosita paused for a second, like she was debating something else, but then took a deep breath and told Wynonna what exactly her deal was. Back and forth, they continued to talk about meaningless things until they drifted off to sleep.

part vii

Two weeks later.

Wynonna: yo rosita r u sure that cecilia bitch wont hit me when i come inside again

Rosita: come inside what ;)

Wynonna: you’re worse than me

Wynonna: answer the goddamn question

Rosita: don’t worry about her, the others have her under control

Wynonna: good, i’m coming in

Wynonna: don’t you dare make a joke

Wynonna entered the nunnery a little worse for wear. She spent the last week hunting a pack of demons that were working for Cleo. Cleo was not great at being a bad guy, but she was good at finding bad guys to fuck up Wynonna’s life.

At the very least, she was feeling stronger. She had been sleeping (over with Rosita) and had been eating (with Rosita). She had been spending every night with Rosita, eating dinner and falling asleep in her arms. She was just glad that no one living in the homestead had noticed her sneaking away. That was a conversation she did not want to have. They were leaving her alone for the most part ever since Doc ended whatever they were.

When she wasn’t with Rosita, she wished she was with her. She was doing better being around Waverly, Nicole, Rachel, and Jeremy, but their company couldn’t compare to what she felt like around Rosita.

There weren’t even any nuns around when she came in, which was a miracle. Usually, she got horrible stares from them. And then there was Cecilia, who hit her because she was ‘jealous’ of the amount of time Rosita was spending with her. That did not feel great. But it seemed like Rosita had done something to make sure she wasn’t in the presence of any nuns.

“What food did you bring for me today?” Rosita said as she bounced toward Wynonna, all giddy in a way that made Wynonna smile.

“I had a rough day so I have… cake.”

Rosita grinned at her. “And I have forks.”

Wynonna followed Rosita to her room and felt a rush of relief inside. Somehow she felt more at home in a weapon room than she did at her own homestead. She still didn’t know how that happened.

Rosita pulled out the boxed cake and grinned at her. “Chocolate cake. What did I do to deserve such kindness?”

Wynonna snorted. “You are letting me stay in your room most nights.”

“Fair enough. I’d like to think you’d let me stay in your barn if I could.”

Wynonna pretended to wince. “Ooh, you would be living in close proximity to a moody teenager and horny couple, though.”

“Doesn’t sound too terrible to me if you’re around.”  

“You’re a weird one.”

Rosita stuck out her tongue. “Says you. Cake time.”

They were silent for a few minutes as they got into the cake. Wynonna was glad with her decision. She was definitely feeling better.

“So, you said your day was rough? What happened?” Rosita asked between bites of food.

Wynonna shrugged. “Still dealing with the pack of freaking demons. And Doc’s still upset with me because he thinks this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t—” She couldn’t say it, but Rosita nodded like she understood.

“He’s a fucking hypocrite. You did what you had to do, ‘Nonna, don’t forget that. So… the demons are still out and about?”

“Two down, two to go. The Black Badge weapons aren’t even really helping.”

“Demons be fickle like that,” Rosita joked lightly. “You’ve got a little cake on your nose.”

Wynonna flushed and tried to wipe her nose. “Did I get it?”

“Here, let me,” Rosita whispered and leaned over slowly, very very close to Wynonna’s face. “It’s right… here…”

Wynonna waited for Rosita to wipe her nose (as she ignored how good Rosita smelled), but Rosita just grabbed a handful of cake and slathered it onto Wynonna’s nose. She gasped in complete and utter surprise. She definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“You dick!” Instead of wiping the cake off her nose, she grabbed whatever she could from her nose and threw it at Rosita, landing in her hair. “Got you in your luscious hair.”

Rosita grimaced as she tried to take the cake out of her hair. “My hair!? My hair, Wynonna!? Seriously?”

Wynonna grinned devilishly at her. “Well, as they say, if you really want to hurt someone, you go after what they love the most.”

“It’s on, Wynonna.”

Rosita grabbed a handful of cake and threw it at Wynonna’s shoulder as Wynonna threw a piece at Rosita’s head. It only took a few seconds for it to turn into a fully fledged war. They were laughing and screaming as they aimed cake at each other.

When Rosita hit Wynonna’s jacket, however, was when it became intense. Wynonna jumped on top of her and rubbed a piece of cake all over the top of her head. Rosita winked to catch her off guard before she forced them to roll around so that she was on top. She pinned Wynonna’s wrists to the ground, forcing out a groan from Wynonna.

“I’ve got you now.”

Wynonna’s chest was heaving as heat flowed through her entire body. Rosita was sitting on her, smirking in a way that made the heat throb. Cake was falling off Rosita’s head, but all of her attention was on Rosita’s eyes. It was always on her eyes.

“You do.”

Wynonna blinked and Rosita’s lips were on hers. She was frozen for a second before she kissed her back. She couldn’t help it. Desire fiercely roared through her in a way it really hadn’t before. Besides, Rosita’s lips were soft and gentle and eager and so kissable. Her whole body from head to toe felt like it was tingling. Electric.

Wynonna wanted more. More and more and more and more. She ran her tongue against Rosita’s bottom lip and Rosita obliged. Her tongue was in the other woman’s mouth and at the sound of Rosita’s moan into her mouth, Wynonna almost died on the spot. The heat between her legs was killing her.

“Fuck.”

The sound of Rosita’s voice forced Wynonna to stop. To realize what had happened. To regret everything. She easily pushed Rosita off of her and quickly stood up. Rosita looked at her with such confusion, such hurt that it nearly broke Wynonna’s heart that very second.

“What’s wrong?” Rosita asked, her voice so quiet, so terrified.

Tears were falling from Wynonna’s eyes. Rosita thought she was rejecting her, which wasn’t the case at all. Instead, Wynonna was stopping things before Rosita had the chance to reject her. She knew it would inevitably happen. It always did.

“This was wrong! You weren’t supposed to kiss me!”

Rosita started crying too. “Why? I thought you wanted me, too!”

“I…” she did want her. She wanted Rosita more than she had ever wanted anybody. And that was fucking terrifying. “It doesn’t matter. You ruined this, Rosita! You were my person and you… you ruined this.”

“I’m sorry!” Rosita choked out as she reached for Wynonna’s hand, but she just pulled away and started walking backward toward the door. “I’m so sorry. Just please stay. Let’s talk about it. Please, Wynonna. Let’s talk about it.”

Wynonna shook her head rapidly. She couldn’t stay and watch Rosita cry. She couldn’t stay and watch as everything was falling apart. She wouldn’t do that to herself. She wouldn’t do that to Rosita.

“I have to go.”

Wynonna, with her lips still numb, turned around and headed for the door as fast as she could.

“Please stay, Wynonna!” Rosita shouted suddenly, stopping Wynonna in her tracks. “Don’t do this, ‘Nonna! Stay with me!”

Wynonna bit her numb lips, drawing blood. “I can’t.”

Rosita didn’t chase her out of the room. She didn’t know what she would have done if Rosita had followed her out. She just had to get out of there. She just had to get out of there. She just had to get out of there.

part viii

Three hours later.

Rosita: wynonna, please answer your phone, i’ve called you 3 times

Rosita: please wynonna

Rosita: you’re worrying me

Rosita: please, let’s just talk about this

Rosita: i’d fucking come to you if i could

Six hours later.

Rosita: just tell me you’re okay

Rosita: i just want to make sure you’re fine

Rosita: fuck

Rosita: wynonna, please

Rosita: i’m begging you

Twelve hours later.

Rosita: i shouldn’t have kissed you, i should have asked

Rosita: we would never ever have to kiss again, i assure you

Rosita: wynonna, we can just be friends

Rosita: or whatever you want to be

Rosita: i just want you to talk to me

Twelve hours later.

Rosita: you’re scaring me

Rosita: if you don’t pick up your fucking phone i’m going to leave this fucking nunnery, damn the consequences

Wynonna: dont be an idiot

Rosita: wynonna are you okay?

Rosita: wynonna?

Thirty hours later.

Rosita: don’t do this, please

Rosita: we can pretend like it never happened

Rosita: i promise, it’ll be like before

Rosita: please

Rosita: you’re the only one who understands me

Rosita: you’re the only one who has ever understood me

Rosita: please

Two weeks later.

Rosita: i need you

part ix

One day later.

She didn’t know why she was back. It had been about two and a half weeks since she had been here. Two and a half weeks of hating herself. Two and a half weeks of hating how she left and how she felt like she couldn’t go back. Two and a half weeks of missing everything about Rosita. Two and a half weeks of wishing she was back in her arms, back in her bed, back kissing her lips.

She wished that it was Rosita’s last text that had convinced her to come back, but instead, it was her nosy best friend.

“You’re mopey again. And drinking.”

Wynonna rolled her eyes at the redhead, who was looking at all the empty bottles in her bed. “And you’re annoying. So what?”

Haught glared at her. “Go see her, Earp. Please. For all of our sakes.”

“What the hell are you on about?”

Haught put her hands on her hips. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I know you were going off to see Rosita every night a couple of weeks ago. Rachel told me that she had seen you sneaking out and I followed you. I connected the pieces. I have to say, I was surprised, but she was making you so happy.”

Wynonna groaned and buried her head in her pillow. “Did you tell my sister?”

“Not my problem. You should tell her, not me. So… what happened?” Nicole sat down on the makeshift bed with Wynonna.

“She kissed me.”

“And that’s a bad thing? Did she force herself on you?”

“No, nothing like that. I kissed her back.”

Nicole furrowed her eyebrows. “So… what’s the problem?”

Wynonna shook her head, frustrated that she didn’t understand. “I’m a fuck up. I would fuck it up. I don’t do relationships.”

“But you like her?”

“Too much.”

Nicole sighed. “Wynonna, don’t focus on the relationship. Don’t focus on any of that shit. It doesn’t matter. What matters is how you feel about her and you wanting to be with her. Everything else, that’s just fluff. You deserve this. You deserve her.”

Tears spilled from her eyes. “She’s too good for me.”

“You’re an idiot, Earp.” Nicole reached over and wiped some of her tears away. “Go to her. Tell her the truth. Everything else is fluff.”

Fluff.

She opened the door to find fucking Cecelia’s fist. Blood was spilling from the cut in her lip. Fucking Cecilia.

“Hey! What the hell is going on here?”

Rosita was running toward her as Wynonna held onto her rapidly bruising face. The first thing she noticed was that Rosita was back in her nun outfit. Out of Wynonna’s clothes. It was a fucking stab to her heart (though Wynonna understood why).

“Rosita…” Wynonna breathed out when she finally approached her.

“I thought you wouldn’t want her back inside,” Cecilia hissed to Rosita proudly, like she had been of service to her.

“Go away, Cecelia, you didn’t have to fucking hit her,” Rosita muttered and finally turned to look at Wynonna, who was practically speechless. “That should be my job.”

Wynonna gulped and stiffened, ready for a smack. But nothing happened.

“Did you really think I was going to hit you?” There was no resemblance of humor in her voice. She seemed genuinely concerned.

Wynonna shrugged. She didn’t tell her that it had happened before.

Rosita seemed to know the answer to the question even though she was silent. Her hard eyes softened and she reached out to pull the other brunette into her arms. Tears immediately spilled out of Wynonna’s eyes. She had missed this so much. Rosita’s arms.

“Goddammit, Wynonna.”

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized and squeezed Rosita tighter. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. I should have picked up my fucking phone. I was so scared.”

“Of what?”

“You, me, us. All of it.”

Rosita pulled away and cupped Wynonna’s tear covered cheeks. “I never would have done anything you weren’t comfortable with. We don’t—let’s go into my room. Everyone’s watching us.”

Wynonna looked around and realized that Rosita was right. Nuns were staring down at her, glaring at her in the creepiest way possible. She shuddered and followed Rosita to her room, anxiously waiting for Rosita to finish what she was saying.

When the doors closed, Rosita continued. “Wynonna, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Ever. ”

Wynonna ran her fingers through her hair. She knew this was going to be the hard part. Telling the truth. Being vulnerable. She fucking hated it. But with Rosita holding her hand as they sat on the mattress, she felt reassured. She felt strong enough to do this.

“It’s not that I don’t want us to do things. It’s just… I’ve never done this. I don’t know if you know this about me, but I fuck up every single potential relationship I’ve ever had and I have never ever been enough. I don’t want us to get together and for me to ruin this.”

“Oh, Wynonna…” Rosita squeezed her hand and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what Doc or anyone else said or did, but you need to know that you are enough for anyone. You might be a colossal hot mess, but Wynonna, anyone would be lucky to have you. As a friend, as a lover, as a mother…”

Wynonna broke.

Physically, emotionally, she broke down. She placed her head in her hands, crying into them as she tried to move away from Rosita, not wanting her to have to deal with this. She never liked anyone to see her like this. Not even Waverly.

“Wynonna…” Rosita moved closer to her and tried to pull her close.

For a few long seconds, Wynonna pushed her away as hard as she could. Tears streaming down her face, she struggled with Rosita, screaming and hitting, trying to get away from her when all the ex-Revenant was doing was trying to hold her closer. Normally, Wynonna would have been able to fight against her, but while she was desperately shaking and forgetting how to breathe, she couldn’t fight against her. She hated it. She hated that Rosita was holding her, cradling her in her arms, whispering that she needed to breathe.

She didn’t deserve it. Just like she didn’t deserve Doc. Just like she didn’t deserve her sister’s love or Haught’s friendship.

But she continued to sob into Rosita’s shoulder as the woman ran her fingers through Wynonna’s hair. She didn’t know how to stop. How to start breathing like a normal person. She hadn’t done this in awhile. And usually, it happened when she was alone and she’d cry until she couldn’t anymore.

She clung to Rosita’s nun robe until she finally was able to breathe along with her and coughed out, “I’m ruining your clothes.”

“Eh, there’s more of ‘em. I could take it off if you wanted.”  

“Why are y-you doing this?” Wynonna asked her (somehow ignoring Rosita’s innuendo), her voice trembling as fiercely as her body. She couldn’t think of a single person other than Waverly who would do this for her.

Rosita shrugged. “You know I don’t want to see you suffer.”

That wasn’t good enough for her. “I ghosted you.”

“You did, but I don’t give a shit about that right now. You’re Wynonna fucking Earp. The bravest, most loyal, and sexiest person I’ve ever met. You have so much shit on your shoulders and everyone expects you to just deal with it with a smile. It’s okay if you’re not doing okay.”

She shook her head, not allowing a single word to mean anything to her. “I’m not just doing ‘not okay’, I’m doing total shit. I’m a fuck-up, Rosita, it’d be a joke to pretend like I’m anything but.”

Startling Wynonna, Rosita gently traced a finger from Wynonna’s eyebrow to her chin and whispered, “just cause you think you’re a fuck-up doesn’t mean you not also all those things I said.” She grinned down at her, knowing Wynonna’d smile.

“You’re a beautiful idiot.”

“All I’m hearing is that I’m beautiful.”

Wynonna wiped her tears and smiled at her. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You literally compliment and flirt with me all the time. Like in every sentence. Even when you try to criticize me—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wynonna looked down, tried to gather herself, and said, “I’m sorry I ghosted you.”

“I’m sorry I kissed you.”

Wynonna shook her head. “Can you do it again?”

“Wynonna, I don’t want you to feel like we have to do anything.”

“Please. Please kiss me, Rosita. I just want you to fucking—”

Rosita interrupted her with her lips. Her fucking lips. She kissed her with a greedy need and Wynonna returned it. Give and take. Wynonna wanted all of her. It was all need.

The Heir gracefully moved so that instead of the cradling position they were in, she could sit on Rosita’s lap, placing her hand on Rosita’s waist. Rosita smiled slightly at the touch and the kiss deepened. Rosita’s hands were all in the other woman’s hair.

When Wynonna’s mouth traveled to Rosita’s chin, down to her neck, Rosita asked, “I thought you didn’t want this.”

Wynonna came up for air and found Rosita’s brown eyes. “God, I want everything with you. Everything else is fluff.”

Rosita snorted. “Fluff? Who are you and what have you done with Wynonna Earp?”

“Don’t be cheeky,” Wynonna quipped back. “What I mean is, all of my worries, when I’m with you, it’s just extra fluff. What matters is that I want you. I want to spend all my time with you. I want to talk to you. I want to laugh with you. I want to kiss you. And you know I want to fuck you. I want you.” She kissed her neck. “I want you.” She kissed her jawline. “I want you.” She kissed her cheek. “I want you.” She kissed her lips.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” Rosita muttered between kisses. “Though I’m pretty sure I want you more.”

Wynonna felt like her whole body was on fire. She just kissed her with more urgency, more desire, more love. She tried to find a zipper or button or something on Rosita’s nun thing and growled when she couldn’t find anything.

“Fuck it.”

She ripped it.

Rosita laughed. “Needy.”

It didn’t take long for the nun outfit to be in shreds. She was caught a little off-guard when she saw Rosita’s body, her fucking body, her entire glorious body. She quickly started to memorize every section of skin, every curve, every line.

“See something you like?”

“You’re gorgeous.”

Rosita grinned at her and started taking Wynonna’s clothes off until they scattered across the floor. Rosita started touching her, her fingers feeling like bolts of energy across her skin. Rosita’s touch brought her back to life.

part x

One year later.

Wynonna’s eyes snapped open at the sound of pots and pans. She groaned and rolled over, bumping into a body. She was mostly used to sleeping with another body, but it still sometimes startled her. In a good way. She couldn’t believe that it had been a year and that they were still together, even though the bed was different.

The other woman wrapped her arms around her and Wynonna breathed her in. She smelled like home.

“I’m going to kill my sister for waking us up every morning.”

Rosita chuckled and kissed her forehead. “She’s making us breakfast, you know.”

“Even so, she’s making me miss the nunnery.”

“That’s dramatic. You added an extension on the house for a reason, Wynonna. I would not have liked to live in the barn.”

Wynonna grinned at her cheesily. “It was a cozy barn.”

Rosita rolled her eyes. “Not cozy enough for me. I’m just personally glad you finally told your sister. She was the one who figured out how I could stay here with the ammonite.”

“And she’s been teasing me about you ever since.”

Rosita pretended to pout. “Oh. You poor baby. You have to deal with your mean sister making fun of you being cute with your girlfriend. Your hot girlfriend, might I add.”

Wynonna smirked and started to trace her fingers along her girlfriend’s arm. “The hottest girlfriend in the world.”

The ex-Revenant hummed. “How long do you think we can wait until we have to go see your sister.”

She groaned. “Knowing her, she’ll probably knock on our door in three minutes if we don’t get up. I can’t believe she’s still doing her interruption ‘payback’ scheme. Wynonnus Interruptus was charming. Waverly Interrupy is just a jerk.”

“Well,” Rosita sighed and began to tug at the boxers Wynonna was wearing, “we can do a lot in three minutes.”

Wynonna’s heart thumped as her girlfriend rolled on top of her and started kissing her neck. She moaned and started to mess with Rosita’s bra clip. It was almost completely off when there was a banging on the door.

“Breakfast is ready, lovebirds!”

Both of them groaned in frustration and Rosita flopped back down on the bed. They acted surprised even though this happened almost every morning. Wynonna wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to it, though. Waking up to Rosita every morning. Rosita, her girlfriend. Her fucking girlfriend. It still amazed her. She couldn’t believe she stayed.

“I guess that means we have to put clothes on,” Rosita sighed as she sat up and pulled her long hair into a messy bun.

Wynonna gazed at her girlfriend. “Please don’t put clothes on.”

“Baby…” Rosita leaned over and kissed her. “The last time we left the room looking like this we were told that we ‘traumatized’ the munchkin.”

“Smalldez. Ruining our mood.” Wynonna scrunched up her nose and frowned.

Rosita snorted. “It also just so happened that she was on facetime with her significant other. Rachel said that they were very concerned about her when it happened.”

“Okay, so we learned our lesson! Rachel legit saw Waverly and Nicole on the floor in the kitchen. I don’t know how us in our bras could be that much worse.”

The ex-Revenant shrugged. “Don’t know. But we have to get out of bed or it’s just going to be worse for us. You know that. The last time we stayed in our room, when we came out, they all had headphones on. And we weren’t even really doing anything. And when we have Alice come home, it’ll just be worse. She’ll need you all the time.”

The mention of Alice sent both excitement and anxiety through her body. With Cleo admitting defeat and surrendering and most of the demons under control, they decided to bring Alice back home. Wynonna was still in a state of shock. She was so worried when she found out she was pregnant that she’d have to do it all alone. But she had her sister, her best friend/sister-in-law, Doc, Rachel, and Rosita. Rosita, who told her that she would be there for her and Alice, no matter what.

“She’ll need us, Rosie.”

A smile grew from Rosita’s lips. “Imagine in a few weeks time, your little girl will be in our arms.”

It was the only thing that Wynonna had been thinking about in the last few months. “It’s crazy. I’m so excited for her to be home. It’ll be like…”

“Like what, Wy?”

Wynonna took a deep breath, knowing what she was going to say was a big deal. “Like all the people I love will be in one place. Like my family will finally be together. Like I’m finally happy. I know a lot of it has to do with you.”

Rosita cupped Wynonna’s cheeks and kissed her nose. “You make me happier than I’ve ever been, Wynonna.”

“Rosita, I—I love you. So fucking much. I love you so much.”

She finally said it. She knew it was the truth after a week of being together, but she wasn’t ready to say it out loud until now. She was emotionally ready, now. She knew what there relationship was and she knew that it was strong. There was nothing that could pull them apart. Not now.

“Wynonna Earp,” Rosita laughed and wiped the tears that flowed from Wynonna’s eyes. “I love you, too. More than anything. More than the amount of stars in the sky. No matter what.”

Wynonna grinned, feeling a burst of love spread throughout her entire body. She kissed her with everything she had. God, she loved Rosita Bustillos.

“BREAKFAST IS GETTING COLD!”

“I think we’re going to be in trouble,” Rosita joked and kissed her gently. “We should go.”

Wynonna sighed in agreement. “We should.”

They didn’t.

#wynonna earp fanfiction #Wynonna Earp #wynsita #wynonna x rosita #binonna earp #binonna #wynonna earp fic #wynonna earp fanfic #wearp fic #wayhaught #wayhaught fic #nicole haught #doc holliday #waverly earp #rosita bustillos

[keeponshouting]

After Infection

This is a rewrite and hopefully eventual completion of a massive multiverse mash-up of my OCs with a couple belonging to @whenromancesmoked and a few others from back in the day. I have absolutely no idea if anyone else is going to be interested in reading this (ok, I know a few people who will probably read it) but psh. I’m having fun and want to share.

Note: This is also a George Romero tribute of sorts. Like I started it for giggles because my PB for one of the characters was in the Dawn of the Dead remake and it just snowballed, which I guess means I should throw a WARNING: ZOMBIES sign up here or something. Anyway!

After Infection: Dawn of the Dead

It had seemed like a good idea at the time – or, well, more accurately, it had seemed like the right thing to do. There was a request from fellow hunters in a small town a few hours’ drive south and things had been quiet lately back home so Nate had figured that they could spare the time and energy. Besides, Dennis had been going pretty stir crazy for a while. Even if it was a hunt, it would be a good excuse to get out on the road for a while, a sort of vacation.

It had not turned out even remotely like a vacation.

They had been a little too late to the original party but apparently just in time for things to get much, much worse. Nate had brought a variety of tools just in case but he had primarily been prepared for an infestation of what locals called “hell rats,” a creature that was pretty common in the south and usually pretty easy to handle if you found their nests quickly enough. Sure they were venomous but as long as you were careful… He had not been expecting an infestation of zombies.

“The lot looks pretty clear right now.” Dennis is hunched over at the door, using the peephole to take a quick survey of the goings on outside their hotel room while Nate brews a second pot of coffee to get him through whatever the morning brings. After all, as long as decent coffee is available, he might as well take advantage of it. Lord knows he might have to go without for a while and God help his poor boyfriend’s patience if that happens.

When Dennis stands up straight again, his head is just about even with the top of the doorframe and he yawns as he leans back against the door, arms crossed over his chest. “So, come up with any plans yet or are we still waiting for the caffeine to kick in?”

Nate snorts into his cup and foregoes actually taking a drink for the moment in order to respond. “You ask that like I have any idea what sort of plan to use here. I’ve met exactly zero hunters who’ve actually had to handle zombies in the past decade at least. I honestly don’t think they’ve ever been a problem this far north before.”

“Well, there sure are a lot around here for something that’s never been a problem.”

“Some forms of infection can spread at an exponential rate in populated areas.” He drains a good half of the coffee in hand. “Our best bet is probably just to find out if there are any other non-infected people anywhere around here.”

Dennis flops across the bed, face down, with a muffled grunt.

Nate just silently continues drinking as the percolator finally finishes beside him and he very seriously considers making a third pot, just in case.

---

Zombies – shambling, groaning, flesh-eating, nearly Hollywood perfect zombies. For fuck’s sake. This should have been such an easy fucking job and now there are zombies.

Viktor strings together another line of curses, voice little more than a low growl, as he chambers another cartridge. Beside him, a terrified little girl whimpers. He simply scowls, sets Glock number one aside, lights a cigarette, and pulls out number two. “Zatraceně zasraný vědci.” Leaning over toward the window, he catches sight of a proper target and empties the last bullet into the back of its skull. What a fucking cliché.

This was supposed to be simple. They had agreed on that fact the moment that the specifications of the job had crossed the table. It should have been routine, easy money. Three towns, three targets, each plan the same; get rid of the scientist, call their employer, and let the clean-up crew come in and deal with the rest. The first two hits had gone off without a hitch. So, of course, it just figures that last one would have to be so much more complicated than it should have been.

“I—I—I w-want m-m-my d-da—daddy.”

Viktor’s jaw clenches as he exhales – slow and even, two thin streams of smoke – as he reloads the gun in hand and wills himself to remain calm. His patience is wearing thin at this point, though. He had not planned for going into this as usual and coming out as a babysitter. The target’s five-year-old daughter was not supposed to be in the house at the time of the hit. She only stayed with him on the weekends. What an absolutely brilliant turn of events that this was apparently the first Monday that she had ever spent with her father.

Dropping his half-smoked cigarette on the floor, he shoves himself up to his feet. He had lost contact with Miguel some time earlier, likely as a result of the scientist’s neighbor backing into an electric pole at full speed after one of the zombies had rushed her car. The impact had cut power to the entire neighborhood and he can only assume that it must be the cause of the interference. With long-range communication down, that leaves only one alternative: he needs to get within the functional range of their radios. Unfortunately, the hit had been planned for the late evening and he had only been able to make it as far as a vacant apartment building a couple blocks away before night had started to set. From here, short-wave does him about as much good as a water pistol.

“Come on.” Viktor has already reached the door and taken quick stock of the corridor beyond by the time he bothers to look back. Unsurprisingly, his unwanted charge remains unmoved, still curled up as small as she can possibly make herself, which is pretty damned small.

“A-are you g-g-gonna take me b-back to da-daddy?”

God give him strength but that stuttering is getting real old real quick. “Ne.” He swings the door open as quietly as possible and waits for a moment, listening for any movement outside, before carefully stepping out and making his way to the stairwell. With the knowledge that their escape route is currently free of hostiles, he takes a deep, centering breath and heads back to where he began.

“Look, holčička.” He crouches down in front of the child and tries to sound as reasonable as possible. Given his current level of frustration, he thinks that he is doing a fairly decent job. Miguel, however, would likely disagree. “Either you just come with me and go wherever I go, quietly and without complaint, or I leave you here. Your choice.” Yeah, Miguel would definitely disagree.

From the way that the little girl’s eyes go so much wider than he would have ever imagined possible, he feels safe in assuming that she disagrees as well and, five minutes later, they are creeping down an alleyway with more stealth than Viktor ever would have expected of a kindergartener.

---

What was taking so long?

That is the question that had led Alex out of the band’s bus and that was the question that he now wants to keep from crossing anyone else’s minds. This is all way too fucked up, like the should not be real kind of fucked up. None of this should be happening.

On the ground, backed up against the flat tire of the car that their driver had originally gone to help, Alex kicks hard into the jaw of what may have once been a perfectly lovely young woman and sends her sprawling backward where she lands on top of the monster still gnawing on the corpse of a man who should have still been living and breathing and driving their goddamn bus. Alex’s hand gropes around behind him for anything even remotely useful as a weapon and lands on the tire-iron just in time to smash it into the face of the dead woman once more lunging in his direction. Another strike as she tries to get up and he cringes and almost loses his lunch at the feeling of her skull cracking open and her brain splattering across the pavement. Hell, he really might have lost it if not for the howl coming at him far too fast. This time, he opts not to look as the hears the wet crunch and just leaps to his feet and starts running back toward relative safety.

“Alex?”

Oh fuck. “Stay on the bus, Val!”

“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do, Niccols! What the fuck is going—”

Alex fails to hear the rest as he spins around to slam the tire-iron as hard as he can into something else behind him. This time it gets yanked right out of his hand as the body drops and he scrambles back onto the bus, practically picking up a protesting Val in order to get her out of the way of the door that he immediately slams closed. He lets her go as he collapses into the driver’s seat, wide-eyed and hands shaking, and it takes him a moment to register the sound of his dog whimpering by his knee, let alone that of his own name. When the world comes back into focus, though, Val is staring at him in horror. It takes him another moment to realize why.

“Alex? What the fuck happened?” Whether she sounds more panicked or angry, Alex is far too dazed to tell. Her hands reach for his face, his shoulders, moving down to check every inch. “Are you okay?”

Taking a deep breath, he raises a hand to wipe at his face. No. No he is not okay. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Val does not look like she believes him at all. “Is that—Fuck. That—That’s blood! Why the fuck are you covered in blood?”

Breathe, Alex. Always a good plan to breathe. “Shh. Don’t…” Never mind. Telling her to keep it quiet is pointless. Everybody else will have heard it already.

He shoves himself back to his feet, legs weak and wobbly, and stumbles as he makes his way through the curtain that separates the cabin from the rest of the bus. It is instantly evident that the rest of the band did, in fact, hear all of that. All three of them are already staring at him before he even properly steps into view. He is pretty sure that Sasha is the one choke out an “on shit” and it is definitely Macy whose response comes out as barely a squeak.

“Blood?” On his feet now, Macy rushes in to cling to Alex’s shirt, bodily fluids not withstanding. “None of it’s yours, right? You’re not hurt? You’re okay?”

Again, Alex reminds himself to breathe, turning just enough so that he can see where Val still stands in the doorway, Parker lying on the floor a foot or so behind her, his ears back and expression scared. For her part, Val is gripping the doorway so tightly that Alex can only assume that she is trying very hard not move and crowd him any further.

“None of it’s mine.” He looks at the faces around him, all of them staring, all confused and various degrees of frightened. It brings everything right back into focus. “We need to—” It takes a deep breath in and a slow breath out to get his thoughts back in line. “Everybody grab a bag, pack food, necessities, just—just whatever.” Stepping a little closer to Val, just near enough to pull one of her hands down from the wall and give it a quick squeeze. “We gotta get outta here.”

---

Nate leans out of the passenger side window just far enough to level his sights on one of the creatures that already looks less human and fires. One shot, between the eyes, and it hits the ground and disappears beneath the feet of its companions. He hears a quiet gagging sound come from the driver’s seat and finds himself feeling a bit queasy in turn. They are both going to need to make some real changes to their perspective re: what constitutes a monster and they need to make those changes really quickly because as of right now, it is going to be really difficult to get out of this mess without completely rewiring their conscience.

“Um, Nate?”

With barely a glance spared toward Dennis, Nate focuses himself on reloading. “Yeah?”

“How many, uh—how many of them are back there?”

The question gives him pause but Nate squints to get a count anyway. “About a dozen in view. Why?”

“Because we need to, uh—we have to stop for a minute.”

Nate drops back into his seat so quickly that he nearly smacks his head off the door. “We what?”

Not even bothering to look at him, Dennis simply peels one shaking hand off of the steering wheel to point at something ahead. “We have to stop.”

Nate has to squint but he starts moving the moment that he sees exactly what Dennis is looking at. “I’ve got the door.”

It was rather obvious even from a single glance at a decent distance that the man up ahead, standing stock still in his torn slacks and a blood, rolled shirt-sleeves, was staring straight past the car speeding toward him and cursing the sight of the ever-growing number of zombies trailing behind. Dennis hits the gas and is slamming the breaks in what feels like no time.

Nate shoves the back door open and feels like there is really no room for argument when he shouts to the man to get in but he has been wrong before and apparently he is right now. Instead of heading straight for them, the guy curses in a language that they are now close enough for Nate to tell is definitely not English and turns away.

“Hey!” Dennis spins in his seat to look behind them, which Nate is sure that he immediately regrets. “What the hell? What’s he doing?”

“I don’t know. He’s just—” And that is when the stranger pulls his gun, takes out three approaching zombies in relatively rapid succession, and finally turns to sprint back toward the car. “—getting a little girl.”

The child is practically flung into the back seat and their new passenger wastes no time slamming the door behind himself and snapping, “Go. Now.”

Dennis really does not need to be told and floors it the second he knows the door is closed.

“Take a left onto Carver,” the man continues, his tone speaking volumes regarding how unwilling he would be to hear any question or protest. “Follow signs for the mall plaza.” He leans out the window to pick off a few more of the monsters before Nate’s slightly incredulous look catches his attention and his scowl is honestly pretty terrifying. “You’ll be out of gas before the edge of town so, under the assumption that you wish to live—”

Nate’s eyes narrow in suspicion but Dennis has absolutely no qualms against following the orders of anyone with a plan right now and practically takes the aforementioned turn on two wheels when he nearly misses it.

---

“Are you sure you can hotwire this piece of shit?”

“It’s not a piece of shit, it’s a fucking classic.”

Val rolls her eyes at that as she continues trying to calm the utterly panicked Macy currently clinging to her so tightly that he might as well just climb into her goddamn skin. “Fine. Can you really hotwire this ‘fucking classic’?”

Two seconds later, the engine revs up as Alex sits back in the driver’s seat with a trin and a waggle of his stupid eyebrows. Sasha squeals in relief and flings her arms around him from her place in the back seat, as he laughs. “My mechanical genius is wasted on this red wire green wire bullshit.”

He pops the trunk just as something begins to stir inside of the nearby diner and Val shoves Sasha aside to squeeze Macy in so that she can help Nico load their bags at record speed. By the time she flings herself into the front passenger seat, there are already zombies starting to stumble out of the woodwork. Fuck seatbelts. “Gun it!”

Alex hits the gas and they peel out of the parking lot just as the diner’s doors give way.

He had tried to explain what had happened while they packed. It had felt impossible for Val to actually wrap her mind around it at first but once she had seen the mess outside? She had practically dragged Alex and Macy off in search of the nearest source of potential transportation. They needed to find something quickly and it needed to be something fast and she needed to not think about how painfully familiar the blood and gore looked, though she had only ever seen anything like it in her nightmares. When Alex had needed to stop and vomit into the nearest garbage can, she had a feeling that she understood why and a little pocket of rage flared to life in her chest – not because he had to stop but because he never should have been the one to wind up with someone else’s blood on his hands.

“Where are we going?” Macy is the one to finally ask, almost inaudible from where he has curled up against Sasha now, and Val catches his eye in the rearview mirror before she looks toward Alex.

Alex, however, is entirely too focused on driving to really think but so much and instead catches her eye before clearing his throat. “Nick?”

In the back, Nico turns away from the horrors outside of his window. “What?”

“How do you defend yourself against a zombie invasion?”

“Wha—Zombies aren’t exactly my specialty here.”

“No,” Alex agrees, “but zombies are supposed to be a helluva lot dumber than, say, Reavers, right? You know Reavers.”

“So?”

“So how would you defend yourself against an invasion of retarded Reavers?”

The drummer just stares at him for a moment with an expression that plainly says that he may consider that to be the dumbest question that he has ever heard. Eventually, thought, there is an answer. “I’d find the most well-stocked, easily-fortifiable location I could think of and hope I could wait out the attack or find some other way to get through them.”

There is silence in the car and then Alex shrugs. “All right. So, where’s the most well-stocked and easily-fortifiable location we can think of?

Five minutes later, they find themselves screeching into the parking lot of the local mall. The location almost seems somehow normal, given the situation at hand. In fact, were it not for the shrieking horde behind them or the knowledge that Alex is currently doing seventy into a public lot, it might almost feel a little reminiscent of home. Val almost finds it funny, really. What’s funnier to her than coming to a mall for safety, however, is the fact that they were obviously not the only ones with that idea, as they are definitely not the only ones pulling into the place with a bunch of undead goons straggling along behind them.

---

“Miguel.”

There is a burst of static in his ear as Viktor leans out to empty his 22 into the crowd of creatures still chasing behind the car that had picked him up on the highway. Once within range, he takes out a couple of the ones latching on to the other car that had pulled in to the lot at about the same time, too. When his magazine clicks empty, he makes a snap decision to save his 20 for later and drops back into the seat to reload. The driver glances at him in the rearview, looking a little bit frightened, while the original passenger only eyes him for a moment before leaning out of the other side with a freshly loaded shotgun. His fellow gunner might not be terribly trusting but at least Viktor can respect that. Besides, who needs trust? The guy’s a fairly good shot.

“Zatratím tě, Miguel!” The little girl still curled up beside him whimpers. He can hear it over the gunfire, the static, all of the goddamned zombies. It is grating on his very last nerve. “Odpovídáš mě!”

He could hope for no better response than to lean back out just in time to watch as a line of four hostiles drops one by one.

“En ingles, ’mano.” Another line of undead hit the ground as the line sputters out then clears up again, leaving room for easily the most welcome voice he has ever known. “Now where the Hell have you been?”

Viktor nearly laughs. “We can trade stories later, miláčku. Right now, I need cover fire while I try to get these people into the posraný mall.”

“Going shopping?”

“Sklapni. We try the mall or they come to your shop.”

“How many?”

Viktor glances toward the other vehicle still circling around the parking lot with them. “Eight plus me.”

“Well, if they dropped you—”

“Miguel.”

“Sí, sí, the mall sounds like a plan. There’s a garage off to your right. No good angle for me to shoot the lock off but I can keep the number of uglies down while you get in.”

“Děkuji.”

“That means thank you, sí?”

Viktor rolls his eyes. “Sí.”

The line bursts back into static with a laugh.

---

As it turns out, the garage door does not, in fact, require a shot to the lock. It rolls up just enough for the two cars to through before Dennis’s little hatchback even hits the ramp. On the other side, a young woman motions for them to hurry while two men in security uniforms stand to either side of the entrance to help keep the monsters at bay, though it appears that this Miguel guy really only needs the most basic of assistance. His precision is honestly kind of terrifying and Dennis is just as glad not to see any more examples of it as he swerves off to one side so that the other car has room. Nate and their scarier passenger are both out before he even has the damned thing in park, seeing to it that nothing gets in the way of girl at the door to slam the thing shut.

“We saw you on the security cameras,” of the security guards explains as he climbs up to try and jam the gears.

The other car’s driver takes a moment to collect himself, then grabs a wrench and makes his way over to the ladder. “Here. Let me have a look at that.”

“Figured we couldn’t just leave you out there.” The guard climbs down to let the driver up. “Then Shannon said she thought you were headed this way.”

“Thanks.” Dennis finally climbs out only to stretch over the top of his car.

The woman now known as Shannon simply smiles. “No problem. Mercy for your fellow man or something like that.” She laughs and shrugs, looking slightly flustered, though that is probably to be expected, all things considered. “Anyway, come on. Let’s get you all inside. We’ve got food, clothes, relatively comfortable furniture… We’ll get you poor things all cleaned up and sorted out in no time.”

There is a general rumble of agreement as the little group follows her to the door that leads into the connected store, allowing themselves to be ushered toward where another girl is waiting somewhat impatiently. That is, they all follow along aside from one man, anyway, who simply mutters something into his headset before switching it off and making his way back over to the hatchback. Shannon looks back, confused, as does Nate, though he looks more suspicious about it.

Dennis just sighs. “The little girl.” Then he ducks through the doorway and drags Nate away after the rest.

---

“Come on, holčička.” Viktor crouches down beside the open car door with a sigh as the child remains curled up in the center of the back seat. Children. How did anyone actually deal with children, let alone have them by choice?

The little girl simply whimpers and mumbles, “There are monsters out there.”

Well, at least the stuttering has stopped and he supposes he can concede that she has a fair point. “The monsters are outside, not with us.”

Before he can receive a response or think of anything more convincing to say, there is someone else coming up behind him, bending down to look the child in the eye with a painfully sympathetic and all too sugarcoated smile. He might be able to handle the sight of it at any other time but right now, with everything that he has just been through and the way that she has the gall to place one of her hands on his shoulder as if—God, he would really like to wipe that smile off of her face.

“Hi, there,” she says, voice floating in a way that speaks plainly of a familiarity with appeasing people under the age of seven. “I’m Shannon. What’s your name?”

Caught slightly off-guard, the child squeaks. “Um. I—I’m—” The little girl shoots a quick glance toward Viktor then, almost as if asking permission to speak with this new stranger before she finally answers. “I’m Amanda.”

Shannon’s smile becomes even brighter, even sweeter, if that is even possible, and Viktor has to dig his nails into his palms to keep himself from taking out her kneecaps when she leans even further over him, hand squeezing his shoulder. “Amanda? Well, that’s a pretty name! Are you hungry, Amanda?”

The little girl nods.

“Well, we’ve got all sorts of food inside. We’ve got toys, too, and games and books and all sorts of neat stuff.”

“And—and no monsters?”

Shannon laughs. “And no monsters.”

Still curled up in the seat, Amanda chews worriedly at her lip for a moment longer, eyes flashing back and forth between the two adults still there in the door. Shannon keeps smiling, encouraging. Viktor just stays crouched there with a clenched jaw and a headache starting to build behind his eyes. When the girl finally moves, though, it does not go entirely as expected. Rather than reaching for Shannon’s offered hand, she instead launches herself forward to wrap her little arms tight around Viktor’s neck and duck her head in under his chin, completely unaware of the rather undignified look of surprise that he is entirely unable to keep off of his face. Unhelpfully, all Shannon does in response is giggle.

#otto writes #original characters #zombies #violence #lol wut #writing: after infection

[evanescentdawn]

Fanfiction of Fanfiction!

On Top Of An Upside-Down World by @thelegendofwinchester (which everyone should read because it’s AMAZING and everything.)

.

She doesn’t have anything against Sam. It’s simple. The wound doesn’t look good at all, it’s infected. And just not that—he’s too skinny. Malnourished. There’s a very low possibility he wouldn’t survive. And Dean wants to use up the last antibiotic they have on him.

He doesn’t listen to her rational reasons.

He narrows his eyes, when she tries to show any kind of protest, squaring his shoulder, all tense. His voice clip and dark as he says, “Yes?” Challenging her to disagree.

And she wants to, for a brief, brief moment—there’s anger. Sharp, boiling anger, the words are begging to get out. No. I am not going to fucking get it. He’s going to die, it’s so clear—you can shove your words back up your fucking—

“I’ll go and get it,” Brenda says, instead, biting the words down. “We don’t have IV tubing or cannulas, so I’ll have to use a syringe.”

“There’s only enough for one course, Dean.” She adds, reminding him.

Dean, of course, ignores it. He shifts his attention to Sam again. She had never really seen him like this before. So intensely focused on a person. He hadn’t been like this with a person before. Not even with Jo. Or...Ellen.

(She can kinda understand it. And doesn’t want to at all—it hits too close for home for her liking.)

In the end, Sam doesn’t die. Not yet. He’s getting his strength back, slowly. It’s a good thing. The antibiotics were not wasted up.

Brenda remembers, vaguely, of the time that she was a student before all this shit hit. Before the end of the world and Walkers. She had family, siblings. She too had a life.

They’re all gone now.

She liked helping people, getting them back alive and seeing them getting stronger.

When she looks at Sam and how he’s laughing and fitting in and living, holding on Dean’s arm—there’s a part of her that hates so much. It’s unfair. So fucking unfair.

Why does—

Brenda shoved away the thought. It’s never done her any good to dwell on the past.

(She never stops though, it’s one of her problems.)

And then, Kyle happens. He trips and gets hurt and infected—that stupid, fucking idiot—and there’s no antibiotics for him because Sam used it all up.

He’s going to die and Brenda can’t do a thing to save him.

She had to watch him die.

It’s an all too similar situation.

“It’s just a cut, Brenda.” Kyle says, carefree. “I’m sure, it’s fine.” Smiling up at her, and she hates how her heart jumps at the sight of it. She presses her lips together and doesn’t say anything, focusing on her cleaning and stitching up his wound.

Stupid, fucking idiot.

He doesn’t even know that he’s going to die. And Brenda can’t bring herself to say it. She tells them, there’s a risk of an infection—when it’s painfully obvious. She leaves, tears prickling hot between her eyes, chest tight. Why.

She snarls kicking the stones beside her. Why.

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.

Brenda allows herself this moment, letting the tears follow before she rubs them away furiously and moves on to deal with the other people who need her attention. There’s always people who do.

She’s exhausted and furious and done, when she comes out of the store and runs into Dean and Jo. They’re smiling. They’re smiling and joking around when Kyle is dying.

When it’s all of this is his fault. And Dean even has the gall to tell her how to do her work. It takes restraint and self-perseveration to keep herself from lashing out at him. She bites down her anger.

“I’m just—stressed.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair.

They, of course, don’t believe her.

Dean accuses her of thinking that the antibiotic was a waste on Sam. And while Brenda immediately denies it, she thinks it was. An absolute waste to spend it on some guy she doesn’t know, an outsider, because Kyle may die now because of it.

Just like everyone else Brenda loved.

Kyle develops a fever and his wound gets more and more worse. Infected. And the fact he’s going to die is more certain now. Brenda watches him struggle in his bed, and hates so much.

It’s all Dean’s fault. Her mind latches on to. Dean’s and fucking Sam’s.

She marches up to Dean’s place and slams the door open and spits out. “I hope you’re fucking happy, Dean. Kyle is going to die now because of your little stunt.”

Jo shouts something but Brenda doesn’t hear it, hands fisted and face aflame with rage. She’s shouting and screaming and doesn’t quite hear what she’s saying except the rush of her blood and heartbeat and Kyle’s struggling breath.

“—If you had been able to compartmentalise!—”

“—What, so that your little boy could live?—”

Boy toy? Is he being for real—

Jo’s sharp voice interrupts them and talks like Kyle could be saved. Brenda snarls at her and Jo says—“Just give him what you need.” Carelessly, like Brenda hadn’t thought about it.

“No harm in trying.” Jo adds. And Brenda fucking had enough.

“You want me to let the Amoxiclav and Metro run out too?” She doesn’t want Kyle to die but she’s not stupid. There’s other people that’s gonna need them and they—want her to waste them on Kyle who’s already done for. No harm in trying. Do they even hear themselves?

What the fuck? Who the fuck let them run? She slams the door on her out.

Jacob meets her when she ducks back into Kyle’s hut, wearing a grim face.

“He’s not going to get better is he?” Jacob asks her when she kneels beside Kyle, trying to do whatever she can to elevate his pain and make this any easier on him.

Brenda chooses not to answer which is an answer in its own and he says, “What about the antibiotic—we had one, didn’t we—”

“You mean the one that Dean used it up on his little brother?” The sharp words are out of her mouth before she registers. Brenda raises her head, angry and done and those were never a good combination for her. Jacob is staring down at her, like he can’t believe it. He will though. Just like everyone else.

The story passes around the whole compound by the time that Kyle is nearly—Brenda swallows the word, closing her eyes and squeezing Kyle’s hands. She can’t say it. Not now.

No one wants to believe it but all the evidence is spread out right there for them. Especially, after there’s no word from Dean when the funeral takes place.

Kyle dies that morning after, and Brenda’s there right beside him as he takes his last breath, struggling to the last minute. She bends her head down and sucks in her inner cheek and god, no matter how many times—it hurts every single damn time.

This time it digs a little harder, since it’s someone she knows.

They have a quick and swift funeral and she watches his body burn up with stinging eyes and an ache so big inside her chest, she can’t breathe. There’s whispers and demands about Dean but he’s already gone, taking away any doubts they may have had at what she said to them. She could hear Jo trying to calm them down and putting some bullshit into their heads about how Dean wasn’t—

Brenda ignores it all, dragging herself to her hut and flopping down on the bed. There’s a moment of silence, of everything sinking in before it crashes down and she’s sobbing and crying hysterically. Curling into her knees and thinking about every single memory she had with him and how—

at least he didn’t die a walker, she tells herself, at least he didn’t die a walker.

(That one is always worse.)

When there’s a knock on her door, hesitant and quiet, Brenda gets up immediately and rubs at her face, despite how she desperately doesn’t want to because—there’s someone hurt and they need her.

She keeps on moving with that sharp, sharp thing piercing in her chest and pressing onto her lungs because if she stops, what’s left for all of these people.

It doesn’t get better as time passes—it never does—everywhere she looks there’s that memory of Kyle, her siblings, her parents and every fucking person she failed and she’s so, so tired.

“Thanks, Dr. Brenda!” Rob gives her a crooked smile when she finishes up his arm.

She gives him a flat stare in return and he cringes under it. Good. That should tell him not to mess around and get hurt in the first place and joke about later. When Brenda turns to leave, she hears Rob and Jacob whisper to each other and curls her hands into fists when she catches her and Kyle’s names.

Things have been different since Dean has left and she wants to say better but—it hasn’t. Not really. Jo taken his place as the leader but the betrayal of Dean still lingers. And Dean’s always been good at giving orders and controlling the order here in the Camp, she reluctantly acknowledges through her bitter hate of him.

Ash’s arrival changes things. He stumbles into their camp with new ideas and changes. And it’s—getting better. Slowly.

Brenda almost forgets about Dean. (He’s never going to come back anyways.)

Then, she wakes up to noises and comes out from her hut to Dean fucking winchester and his brother standing there. She narrows her eyes.

Things escalate, and everyone is shouting, pointing their guns at each other, ready to shot and then, Sam’s in front of his brother and lifting his shirt up to reveal—

A bite. A Walker bite that’s healed over. Brenda doesn’t register it first, stuck on the image of the teeth marks on his skin, eyes wide. She had seen that mark, too many times. More than she ever wanted to.

How—? Brenda never thought it was possible. Immunity. But it’s right there, in front of her eyes.

“Are you really immune?” She asks to him, later. because she still can’t believe it despite everything as she draws out his blood. This is the answer they’ve been looking for. All the possibilities that his blood could give them—

“Yeah,” Sam confirms. And It takes effort for her hands not to shake. Her mind is racing. If they could find out what actually find out what exactly is making him immune—it would be the answer to everything.

Despite her effort, her hands slightly shake.

This could mean...the end of this apocalypse.

(Freedom.)

#supernatural #brenda! #I LOVE HER SO MUCH #this got....longer than I ever expected lol #it was v fun to write #BLARGH. there are so many other stuff I wanted to include in here but I just got Brain Tired #(didn’t even include that last scene where they kind-of reconcile) (which is my FAVE) #maybe I’ll write it some other day #my writing

[chronictonsillitis]

If I Could Do It All Again (I Shouldn’t Still Want This) Chapter 9/? - Bellarke (exes, college AU)

“No.” Clarke turned to face her. Her voice was steady. “Bellamy should come. I don’t care.”

“Alright, then,” Raven said doubtfully. Her eyes searched Clarke’s face and Clarke made sure there was nothing for her to find. “Good.”

“Good,” Clarke replied.

Good, she thought. You dirty liar.

***** Clarke and gang get ready for formal.

ao3 or start from the beginning or

It was probably foolish for Clarke to work a shift the day of formal, but if she was honest she was kind of hoping it ran long so she’d have an excuse to skip it. As the end of the shift grew closer and closer with no calls, she started to get a bit desperate.

“Really, Jackson, when was the last time you and Miller got to spend a Saturday night together?”

“Last weekend.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “I mean a night out. I could cover Miller tonight, no problem. And you guys could have a date night.”

Jackson looked at her doubtfully. “You know McCreary is working tonight, right?”

Clarke shrugged with a studied air of nonchalance, cringing internally. “That’s fine. He’s really not that bad.”

“Not that bad?!” Jackson choked. “Since when?”

Clarke shrugged again. “I don’t know, the last couple times we’ve worked together.”

Jackson narrowed his eyes and called out, “Hey, Nate!”

Fuck. Clarke had been trying to avoid getting Miller involved, as he was much more likely to see through her.

Miller poked his head around the corner. “If Clarke is trying to convince you to let her stay late, say no. She’s trying to get out of going to formal.”

Clarke groaned, slumping down and throwing an arm, over her face. “Who told you?!”

Miller sat down next to her, throwing an arm over her shoulders. “Who didn’t tell me? It’s cute that you don’t think you’re predictable.”

She looked up at him with big eyes. “Please don’t make me go.”

“I can’t make you go.” Miller patted her lightly on the cheek. “But I can make you leave.”

He pushed her up off the couch, placing her bag into her hands. “Time to go. Vamoose.”

Clarke pouted. “It’s not even 6 yet!”

Miller pushed her further towards the door. “And yet I’m here, so you don’t have to be. Now, get. Begone.”

Clarke groaned and gave in. She shot them one last betrayed glance as she headed out the door.

“Have a nice night!” Jackson called after her. She flipped him the bird.

****

Clarke grabbed dinner on her way back to campus, sitting at her desk to eat. After, she flopped down on her bed, procrastinating. Slowly, she resigned herself to the idea of formal. The dress bag sat accusingly in her closet, reminding her she’d already agreed.

Begrudgingly, Clarke stripped off her work clothes and went to take a shower. She got back to her room to find a dark mop of hair hanging backwards of her bed.

“Madi,” she acknowledged.

The head popped up. “What kind of underwear are you wearing?”

Clarke gaped at her, looking down at her towel clad body.  “I’m sorry?”

Madi rolled her eyes. “Not right now, obviously. Tonight, I mean. To formal.”

“What?”

Madi continued, “I was thinking maybe black ones, and they have to match. Do you have any lacy ones?”

“Why?” Clarke’s eyes narrowed as Madi shrugged. “Did Raven put you up to this?”

“Now why would Raven do that?” a voice drawled from her doorway, and Clarke spun. Raven smirked, high-fiving Madi as she walked out.

“See you later,” Madi called.

Raven kicked the door shut. “But seriously, which underwear are you wearing?”

Clarke shrugged, glaring. “I don’t know. Who cares?”

Raven let out a long sigh and moved over to Clarke’s drawers, digging through them. She pulled out a pair of lacy panties and shot them at Clarke’s head like a slingshot. “You feel better in cute underwear. It’s a scientific fact.”

Clarke grumbled but slid them on, catching the matching bra as Raven launched it at her. “I don’t think that’s proven.”

“Better check Pubmed, Griffin. Besides, if you’re gonna get L-A-I-D, you might as well look hot in all layers.”

“I’m a college student, not a preschooler! I know how to spell laid, Raven,” Madi called through the door. Raven threw a shoe at the door, and it hit with a loud thump. Clarke listened as footsteps skittered away.

“What a little brat,” Raven said affectionately. “Just like her mother.”

Clarke scoffed as she pulled her dress over her head and zipped it. “I am—She is not—“ Raven quirked an eyebrow at her as she struggled to reach the clasp. Clarke huffed and turned her back towards Raven’s outstretched hands. Raven clipped the dress shut. “My child. She is not my child. And who says I'm getting laid? It's just a party.”

Raven laughed. “Sure thing.”

Clarke sat down at her desk to start doing her makeup. Raven grabbed a heel off the floor, turning it over and over in her hands. “So…”

Clarke looked back at her through the mirror. Her eyes narrowed at Raven’s suspicious look. “So?”

Raven shrugged, trying to come off as casual and failing. “Everyone’s invited to this pregame, right?”

“Right,” Clarke replied.

“So it’s fine if I invited Shaw?”

Clarke shrugged. “Of course.”

Raven clicked her tongue, flipping the shoe over. “Or Roan?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Yes, Raven.”

“And all of our friends, right?” Clarke could not see where Raven was going with this.

She nodded back. “Of course.”

“So…” Slowly, Raven continued,“Even Bellamy?”

Clarke froze for a second, meeting Raven’s eyes in the mirror. The other girl looked apologetic. Clarke struggled to act natural. She shrugged. “Why not?”

“Clarke…” Raven’s voice was soft. “Do you still—“

“Of course not.” Clarke cut her off, her cheeks flaring pink. She broke eye contact, blending highlighter over her cheekbones almost angrily. “It’s fine if he comes. We’re friends. It’s only a little awkward now, anyways.”

“Are you sure?” Raven asked gently, and Clarke felt her heart squeeze. Not at all.

“Definitely,” Clarke replied. “Why shouldn’t he come?”

She wondered if her voice sounded convincing to Raven, because it didn’t sound convincing to her.

“I can tell him it’s a hall-only thing if you want,” Raven offered. “Well, hall plus me and Murphy and Shaw I guess.”

“No.” Clarke turned to face her. Her voice was steady. “Bellamy should come. I don’t care.”

“Alright, then,” Raven said doubtfully. Her eyes searched Clarke’s face and Clarke made sure there was nothing for her to find. “Good.”

“Good,” Clarke replied.

Good, she thought. You dirty liar.

****

Her hair was curled, her makeup was flawless, and Clarke was trying desperately not to spill anything on her dress. She let the general shenanigans of the pregame wash over her. Madi waited as she poured herself a drink.

Murphy slid over, fingers tapping against the table top. “Let’s play a game, little Griff.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “That’s not her last name, Murphy.”

Murphy nudged Madi with his shoulder. “Your mom’s being a bit of a killjoy, you know that?”

Madi nodded sagely. “She usually is.”

“Excuse me?” Clarke choked.

Madi met Clarke’s look of betrayal with a shrug, turning back to Murphy. “So, a game?”

“Ah yes,” Murphy drawled dramatically. “My favorite game of all.”

Madi looked at him quizzically. “What’s it called?”

“It’s called…” Murphy trailed off, before finishing with a dramatic flourish, “Finish Your Drink.”

Madi’s brow wrinkled. “And what are the rules?”

“The rules, baby Griff, are that you finish your drink. Ready? Go.”

Clarke stopped her as she went to tip her glass down her throat. “Murphy, no. Not with the frosh.”

“Whatever, mom.” Setting his drink down, Murphy rolled his eyes then fixed her with an intense gaze. “Hey, Clarke.”

“No, Murphy.”

He continued, “Let’s play a game.”

“I swear to god if you say—“

“It’s called Finish Your Drink.”

Clarke glared at him. “Really?”

He shrugged, his face not apologetic in the slightest. “Really. Ready? Go.”

Despite her mocking, Clarke played along, tilting her head back as she poured her full drink straight down her throat. She swallowed, and coughed, pointing an accusing finger at Murphy.

“No more of that tonight.”

He winked. “No promises.”

She glared at him and poured herself a new drink. “But seriously though, don’t convince my freshman to drink too much. I’m not trying to spend my night playing nursemaid again.”

Murphy shrugged and gazed back with a serious expression. “Of course not. You’re supposed to have fun tonight. In fact—“ he paused, a grin spreading across his face as he snatched Raven around the waist, “Raven and I will take care of your drunk kiddies should the need arise.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “You will?”

Raven huffed and slapped his hands off of her, stepping away. “We will?” Clarke watched as she and Murphy exchanged a series of loaded glances. Nodding, she slipped back against Murphy’s side. “Oh, right. Of course we will.”

Clarke looked suspiciously between their twin shit-eating grins. “Whatever. As long as you mean it.”

“Scouts honor,” Murphy said, lifting three fingers in a salute. His gaze focused on something behind her and he stiffened, rushing away. “Hey, baby Griff, slap cup cups only need a tiny bit of beer, really! It’s more fun that way!”

They turned to watch him. Raven patted Clarke on the shoulder. “He’s gonna be great, I promise.”

Raven glanced behind them and Clarke felt her demeanor change. She looked at her questioningly. Raven gave her a one handed salute. “That’s my cue, see ya!”

Clarke watched, confused, as she rushed off to join Murphy. “Weirdo.”

She heard a deep intake of breath behind her and spun.

“Oh,” she breathed. There he was. Bellamy was dressed for formal, in a button down and slacks. His arms bulged beneath the shirt, and Clarke fought to tear her eyes to his face. It was a mistake. He was looking at her like… she didn’t know. His curls hung slightly in his face and his gaze was so soft, so open, she just— she couldn’t.

“Clarke.” His voice rasped over her name, and Clarke felt goosebumps rise on her arms.

****

Freshman year, they had lain together in her bed. His eyes had been hot on her skin, and she’d flinched self-consciously.

What are you looking at? She’d asked.

His eyes had roved over hers. You’re beautiful. She’d breathed in sharply and his brows had drawn together. What? Don’t tell me you don’t know it.

She’d sighed and he ran his finger along her side. I do know it, sometimes.

Sometimes? he’d prompted.

I look in the mirror and think, I’m beautiful, then someone will come in, the boy in the room next to me for instance— he smirked —and then I’ll think maybe not.

He’d frowned at her, fingers stilling on her hip bone. Why not?

I look at myself and I think, wow, I’m pretty, but then I’d think of him— of you— facetiming his girlfriend. In my head she asks if I’m pretty. In my head he says no. She’d shrugged. I know it’s not real.

His hand clamped hard around her hip. Let’s say he did say that. He’d pressed his lips to her shoulder and she shuddered. He’d be lying.

****

She fidgeted nervously. “Bellamy.”

He grinned at her, so wide and infectious she couldn’t help but grin back. She caught herself and turned quickly towards the drinks table.

“Want anything?” she asked.

She glanced at him and caught his eye as he looked her over curiously. The silence stretched on for a little too long. “What?”

“You—“ he breathed, and trailed off. Bellamy’s eyes were intense on her and she stiffened instinctively. He shrugged apologetically and smiled, leaning up against the table next to her. “Nothing. Sure, I’ll take a drink.”

Clarke hummed in acknowledgement and grabbed a cup, pouring him one. She refilled her own cup, and passed his over. She felt her heartbeat high in her throat. “Hey Bellamy?”

“Yeah?”

He looked at her expectantly. Clarke gulped, looking down. “Let’s play a game.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at her.  “Okay?”

She looked up and grinned, holding up her cup. “It’s called Finish Your Drink. Ready, go.”

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy #bellamy blake #bellarke fic #clarke griffin #The 100 #the 100 fic

[bangtan-gal]

Hello There (M)

Kim Taehyung Short Story By: Liffy

Warnings: Smut, fluff, angst, super fucking cliche, explicit sexual content (I would say 18+, but I can’t stop you horny seventeen-year-olds, can I?) There’s also Jin x Reader

Synopsis: a gorgeous, drunk stranger shows up on your doorstep one night and invites himself in.

Bad boy!au neighbors!au

Word Count: 12k

Rain hit the windows of the car as you pulled into the driveway. It was such a terrible day to move, rain was pouring down non-stop, your emotions were on a wild roller coaster, and you had no one to help you move in. Hell, you were completely alone—you moved to a city three hours away and your friends were all busy with work and school. You probably wouldn’t see them until the next holiday.

Of course, maybe it was better you completely cut yourself off.

You sigh, hitting the steering wheel as you stared at the small yellow townhome before you. It didn’t look bad, but you couldn’t really judge until you were inside. You had been so desperate to move, to escape, that you disregarded doing walk-throughs. And it was all because of that asshole who broke your he-

You forced your thoughts away from him and from all that. You barely felt the rain when you stepped outside, letting the water soak into your sweater. The boxes weren’t heavy and you didn’t have many, according to the pamphlet the house was completely furnished, so you opted for leaving bigger appliances with your roommate. You had made an agreement that if it turned out there was no furniture, you could come back and get it, but something in the back of your head told you that you wouldn’t have have the guts or energy to go get it.

You rushed to the door, the rain finally starting to get to you. Your hands shook as you fumbled with the keys. Cold burned through your body and you barely managed to unlock the door. When you shoved the door open, a loud squeak came from the hinges. You winced, knowing that if you didn’t get that fixed immediately, this place would become a nightmare.

It wasn’t a lie—the living room and dining room was completely furnished. Of course, some essentials were missing; like a microwave, a dishwasher, and some ceiling lamps. You set the box down with a sigh and looked around.

Looked like this was going to be your new home.

∞∞∞∞∞∞

It’d been two weeks since you moved. The first three days you had interviews non-stop, until you got a confirmed job as a medical assistant at a small nearby hospital. You quickly learned that Jinju was much different from Seoul. It wasn’t small, but after five years of living in Seoul, you had gotten used to constantly crowded streets, hard-to-get jobs, and a never-ending work day.

You wished you could say that it was easy to adjust, but it wasn’t.

You found it impossible to sleep without the sounds of cars rolling past your window, sirens wailing, and music blasting from one of the nearby apartments. It was silent, but in a deafening way. Work was mostly boring, you didn’t have very many patients, and since you were still knew to that hospital, the nurse you worked under didn’t let you help out very much. It was awful, not being able to drown yourself in your work so you wouldn’t suffocate from your feelings.

Everyone was nice—which some might take as a good thing—but in your mind they were all too nice. Your car had broke down one day, resulting in you being two hours late to works, and you didn’t even get questioned. You worked the day normally, without even one dirty look sent your way. It was unnerving. It was boring. You hoped for something exciting to happen.

You were currently driving home from the grocery store, drenched in sweat and other bodily fluids from the work day. It was a late Friday night, but the roads were empty. You couldn’t help but think of Seoul—how the city would be lit up with music and people—not a deathly silent hollow. There were a few clubs open, but they screamed empty. Memories of countless nights of partying invaded your mind and you couldn’t stop the small scream that escaped you.

“This town is awful!”

Throughout the weeks, you’d regretted not doing your research before moving here. You regretted moving to a town where you had zero friends, a town that was nothing like Seoul. Busan would’ve been great—you had plenty of friends there that hadn’t been involved in your life and it was just as rowdy as Seoul. Tonight, you found yourself regretting moving here even more than ever. A Friday where you didn’t work the night shift and where the city was empty.

In your mind, Jinju had seemed to be the perfect place to start over, but you seemed to forget about your personality, your habits. Although you were a generally shy person, you weren’t introverted. You loved the outdoors, you loved the feeling of music vibrating through your anatomy as you bounced on the dance floor.

Once you arrived home, you sat in the kitchen for a while, picking at your nails. It was getting close to ten o’clock, but you weren’t even feeling remotely tired. You grabbed your phone and broke your promise to yourself. You opened up Instagram, scrolling through your feed. Your old roommate, Ji-Ae, already found a new one and from the  looks of it they were getting along just great. You detested the bitterness that swept through you as you stared at the happy faces of all your old friends.

Then your heart throbbed when you stopped at one picture. You bit your lip, quickly shutting off the phone and throwing it down. Your heart starts pounding and your eyes start to sting as tears threaten to spill. You get yourself a glass of water and lean against the counter as you slowly sip at it. The thoughts slowly dissipate as you watch the street.

Thirty minutes later you’re dozing on the couch when a noise has you perking up. You frown when you hear the sound of a car pulling up and loud laughter. You shouldn’t be surprised—it’s a townhome and of course you’d have a neighbor right next door—but you honestly thought you didn’t have one. The past two weeks you haven’t seen or heard anyone or anything. No car, no person, no activity.

“Whatever, it’s not like it’s my problem,” you mutter and your head falls back onto the couch.

But it quickly became your problem.

Keys jingled outside your door and you heard a frustrated groan when whoever it was tried to open the doorknob. Then they started knocking, a low laugh coming from them and then a loud hiccup. They grumbled a name and continued to knock loudly. You frown and stand up, slowly creeping over to the door.

When you open the door, you find yourself face to face with the most gorgeous boy you’ve ever seen. His skin is smooth, his eyes are bright, and his hair is a deep brown. He doesn’t even seem to notice you as he stumbles past you, muttering something about keys under his breath. You open your mouth is question when the boy collapses onto your sofa with a groan.

“Wha-?”

You shook your head, forcing yourself out of your stupor. Your feet scurried across the carpet as you rushed over to shake the boy but it was too late. He was completely wasted, snoring lightly on your couch. You blinked and tried to shake him awake, but he waved you off, accidentally hitting you in the face.

He sneezed loudly and then went back to softly snoring. Disbelief rushed through you—did a super hot, drunk guy just barge into your home and collapse on your couch? What was going on? Who was he? Your lips whitened as you pursed your lips and leaned over him, trying to get a good look and maybe recognize him. Was he from work?

You were met with long lashes, pink lips, and a light spray of freckles. His ears were pierced and you could see tattoos creeping along his collarbone and wrist. His hair was messed up, but in a weird way, it was cute. He let out a little snort and rubbed at his nose and then tried to bury himself even deeper into your couch. You cringed at yourself when you realized you were smiling.

“He’s a random guy—a handsome one—but  still some random, drunk boy! What are you doing?” You hissed at yourself as you backed away into the kitchen. You watched him from there, confusion flooding you. What in the world was going on?

A bitter feeling swept through you, if you were in Seoul you could’ve just texted one of your friends and they would’ve come and helped out. Hell, you had a roommate in Seoul, she could’ve helped.  

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. He seemed harmless and if you wake up before him in the morning, it’ll be fine. You grab a blanket and drape it over him and this time when you mutter goodnight to the home, there’s someone to receive it. Kind of.

You wake up in the morning with a groan and look at the time. It’s close to nine thirty and you groan again. After several failed attempts to go back to bed and sleep most of the day away, you flop out of bed. You trudge across the carpet and to the kitchen, your mind set on a cup of coffee. It takes almost all your energy to figure out whether you want a latte or just regular brew. A smile blooms on your face as the steam rises from the machine and you can smell the coffee. The pajama shirt you wear is accurate: coffee is your addiction.

You hum to yourself as you stir in the caramel and creamer. It seems to be a good day, the sun is out and only a few clouds dot the blue sky. The tree outside your kitchen window is still, signaling that there’s no wind. Maybe you could go for a walk.

“Hello there,” a deep voice murmurs.

A scream falls from you and you jump, accidentally swiping the mug off the counter. Dismay sweeps through you as you watch it hit the kitchen ground, ceramic spraying everywhere and coffee spreading over the blue and white kitchen tile. You whirl around, eyes widening when you see a messy-haired boy standing in the entrance of your kitchen. His eyes are half closed, dark circles resting under them. His face is pale—in a sickly, tired way.

You open your mouth and then close it. He continues to just stare at the destroyed mug that lays at your feet. A blush rushes over your cheeks and you fight the urge to start smacking your head. You had been so desperate for coffee that you forgot about the wasted young man that seemed to think your couch was his bed.

“Er-hi,” you squeak out, grabbing a rag to quickly wipe up your mess. You loved that mug, it was a gift from your best friend, but maybe it was best you started destroying memories of your past. You dumb the glass in the trash and rinse your hands, trying to stall time long enough to think of an actual conversation.

“I’m assuming we didn’t?” His voice is so deep and it sends shivers through your body. You turn and watch as he awkwardly motions between the two of you. Heat spreads over your ears and along your cheeks and you quickly shake your head. He nods in understanding and fixes his jacket as he looks around. You can see the confusion shimmering on his face but for some reason you can’t find the words to open your mouth and explain what happened last night. “You don’t have any pain killers, by any chance?”

You blink and then nod, if he was drunk enough to pass out in your house like he owns it, he must be in excruciating pain. You fumble through your cabinets until you find it and toss him the bottle. You hand him a glass of water and then shift from foot to foot. You’d had a couple of one-night stands in your life, but this well… it might’ve felt like one, but it wasn’t. Do you offer him breakfast? Coffee? Or do you just kick him out and hope he finds his way home?

“So, how did I end up here?” He asked, making himself at home as he sits down at your dining table. You frown slightly at the gesture, but choose to shove away your annoyance. He was here because of his irresponsibleness, but you’d been in his place before so you figured you should at least try to be nice.

“You kind of just… showed up drunk at my doorstep,” you explained with a shrug as you started another cup of coffee. “You seemed to think I was someone else and then… decided that this was your house? You passed out on my couch and I didn’t have the heart to kick you out.”

Nor did you have the help to kick him out, but he didn’t need to know that.

He frowned and stared at his water. His eyebrows furrowed and you couldn’t help but admire how the sunlight danced across his face. Dammit, he was gorgeous. Too bad you met under such weird circumstances. He pursed his lips and looked around, recognition flickering through his dark eyes.

“Uh, coffee?” You asked. He blinked at you and nodded. You quickly walked over with another mug and set it down it front of him.

“Thanks. I’m Taehyung by the way,” he said, sending you a small smile. You hate the way your heart flutters at the gesture—fuck he’s adorable.

“Y/N,” you reply softly, grabbing your own mug. You don’t join him at the table, instead you lean against the counter and watch him over your cup as you sip at the warm beverage. By the way his lips quirk up into a smirk, you can tell he knows your watching him, but chooses to ignore you. He sips at his coffee, his eyes fluttering close in pleasure at the taste. You find yourself strongly relating to that feeling.

The two of you finish your drinks in silence and no matter how hard you try to, you can’t take your eyes off him. You wish you could convince yourself that it’s not because of his looks, but you know that’s the main reason. You’re still confused about this boy and how in the world he ended up at your doorstep. You assumed he wasn’t driving and if his friends dropped him off, wouldn’t they know where he lived?

Was this just an awkward chip in your life that you could later laugh about as reminisce about it to friends?

“Well, I oughta get going,” he says as he stands up. “Thanks for the medication and coffee… and for not just rejecting my ass last night and letting me freeze.”

You nod and bite your lip as you lead him towards the door. He licked his lips, revealing a tongue piercing, and then smiled. You watched as he walked down your porch. Taehyung does a small double take, a laugh of disbelief escaping him. He turns around and waves at you, before walking along the driveway and up the porch on the other side. Your mouth gapes open as you stare in shock.

The drunk stranger was your neighbor.

Maybe you shouldn’t have asked for something exciting to happen.

∞∞∞∞∞∞

It seems that Jinju was just happily offering you mishap after mishap. Your car had broken down a week ago and today it decided to pull the same crap. This time though, when someone pulled over to try and help you start your car, it sputtered and then gave out. You saved your loud scream for when the man left and then called the tow truck. There was no reason for your car to be doing this, it was still fairly new and it had gotten a basic repair right before you moved. The town just wanted to watch you suffer, as if you hadn’t already suffered enough.

By the time the tow truck showed up, you had called in work and told them that you wouldn’t be able to come in today. They were understanding—as always—and you weren’t even assigned extra hours. The ride to the shop was awkward, the driver attempting to start conversation, only to be shot down each time by you. You were furious. You were sitting in your yellow scrubs, in a grimy tow truck, and driving to go get your a car a repair that it shouldn’t need.

Maybe the town was trying to get you to leave.

When you arrived, the garage was mostly empty, but men milled about, overalls and t-shirts covered in oil. It was something straight out of a move: bulging biceps, broad chests, and tattoos left and right. They were working on cars and bikes, loud music blaring. A blush spread over your cheeks when you saw the sweat that dripped along their arms and chests and darkened their shirts. Shit, they were all good looking and it wasn’t oka

The man who drove you over called over a man. He was broad shouldered, with black hair that swept over his forehead. He was very handsome, despite the exhaustion that pulled at his face and the sweat that stained his neck and hair, it shined through. He smiled at you and you almost became a pile of puddy right at that moment.

“Your car broke down?” He asked once he was close enough for you to hear. You nodded, not trusting yourself with words at the moment. He walked towards your car and immediately popped up the hood. He bit his lip as he looked through, moving random pipes and unscrewing caps to check the insides. You didn’t know a thing about cars and as he started to spout off things that could be wrong, you just listened in awe.

“Of course,” he said, turning to you with a heart stealing grin, “I can’t find a for-sure diagnosis unless you agree to go on a date with me.”

You blink, tilting your head in confusion. “But uh…?”

“Oh come on, Jin, stop flirting with the customers, would ya?” A familiar voice interrupted. You looked over your shoulder, eyes widening when Taehyung approached. He was staring at the man before you, but when he met your gaze, his face mirrored yours.

The two of you just stared at each other, both shocked to see each other again. You hadn’t seen Taehyung since that day, despite the fact you looked at their door every time you came home and had developed a weird habit to look out the window every few minutes. Now, here he stood before you, a tight black tank top hugging his figure, with glistening biceps and the same messy hair.

He wasn’t completely covered in tattoos like you’d assumed—he had a ring of roses on one wrist and a ring of thorns on the other. There was black and red ink running along his collarbone and disappeared beneath the collar. You looked away and instead met Jin’s inquisitive stare. You blushed under the heat of both their gazes and opted for staring at your sneakers.

“Hyung, I need help!” Another voice interrupted the silence. A boy with black hair came bounding over, whining at Taehyung. Black stud earrings shone in the sun as he tossed his head around. You studied him and couldn’t help but feel that he was too innocent to be working in such an environment.

“Hmmm, okay Kookie,” he muttered and then glanced at you, throwing a quick wink. “See you around Y/N.”

You didn’t reply as he was dragged off by the younger boy. You turned to Jin, your smile tight as you awaited a diagnosis for your car.  The confusion dissipated from his face and the same smirk from before covered his face. He crossed his arms and leaned back, tilting an eyebrow up. You chuckled, actually shocked that he was serious about that date.

“Seriously?” You giggled, searching his face.

“I don’t want a pretty girl like you to escape so quickly,” he said softly and you didn’t realize how close he was until he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. If you weren’t red before, you were definitely now.

You agreed to the date and tried to fight the butterflies that erupted at his smile. Afterwards he explained what was wrong with your car—or at least tried to. He could obviously tell that you had no idea what he was saying, but he seemed to find it amusing and a low chuckle would fall from his pink lips every time you would just blink in answer.

You spent the rest of the morning at the garage, sitting in the waiting room, flipping carelessly through magazines until Jin came storming in. He was covered in even more grease, but the bright smile on his face would make you think that he was covered in chocolate. He told you he was finished and ushered you out towards your car.

“So, I’d ask you for a date tonight, but I’ve already made plans with friends…” he said with a sad sigh, shaking his head over-dramatically. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why don’t you just invite her along?” Taehyung popped into view, toweling out his hair. Both you and Jin blinked, before the man turned to you with a pout. You weren’t really sure if you wanted to—it felt awkward to be around the other boy, considering the circumstances you met.

“It’s at my place, so you’ll sort of be there whether you want to or not,” he pointed out with a shrug and with Jin’s pout growing, you couldn’t say no. You reluctantly nodded, but a smile pulled at your lips when you saw the man’s childish joy that burst forth.

You couldn’t help it, he was too cute.

You weren’t sure what to bring or what time to show up actually. The boys had just told you it was Taehyung’s and that Jin would be there. Hell, you wouldn’t know anyone else that showed up. Suddenly, you felt stupid and wondered if you should just find an excuse to not come. Jin had left his number in your car, so you could easily give him an excuse.

Except for the fact that the man who was holding the social lived right next door. You didn’t know Taehyung that well, but if what you saw the morning after his drunk episode was anything like his real personality, there would be nothing stopping him from coming over and dragging you to the party. So, that’s how you ended up trying on over hundreds of outfits to figure out what worked.

You went for jeans and a simple t-shirt and fixed up your makeup and pulled your hair up. You didn’t want to wear something too fancy and if you somehow ended up underdressed, you lived right next door. You grabbed a bottle of wine from your cabinet and then hurried out.

Almost the second you knocked on the door, it opened. It wasn’t Taehyung who answered, but another man you’d never seen before. He was grinning and his grin only grew when he saw you. His hair was dyed red and just like every other guy that Taehyung knew, he was gorgeous. You opened your mouth, unsure of what to say and then just opted for offering him the wine bottle as he ushered you inside.

“You must be Y/N? I’m Hoseok, Tae’s roommate,” he explained and then giggled. “I heard about Tae’s drunk shenanigans in your home. I do profusely apologize for that, I should’ve gone looking for him when he didn’t come home after his friends texted me.”

You thought you imagined it, but a dark shadow seemed pass over the boy’s face when he mentioned his roommate’s friends. Then his face immediately brightened up and he showed you to the kitchen and set down your bottle. Their house was set up similarly to yours.

“So, why did you move to Jinju?” Hoseok queried as he got several bowls down from the shelves. He placed them along the counter, filling them with various snacks. You bit your lip, wondering what to tell him. When he saw your hesitation, he told you that you didn’t have to share and instead told you about why he was living in Jinju.

“I work in pharmaceutical sales and originally was in Incheon, but then the clinic I worked for got another branch here and decided to have me move here. That was when I met Tae actually—I seemed to be having some really bad misfortunes, my car had broke down and the house I was supposed to move ended up getting pulled from the market.

“Tae fixed up my car and that was when I found out that his roommate at the time would be moving out in a couple months so I asked if I could move in. Worked out and the three of us lived here for a while and Yoongi was actually gonna stay… but his job called him elsewhere,” he murmured, sadness rolling through his voice at the last sentence. You could feel the sound of loss in it. You brushed your fingers along his knuckles and smiled sympathetically. He returned the smile and then pulled away to continue laying out snacks and drinks.

“Could you get some of the glasses?”

You tried to reach for the cups, but they were on the highest shelf and you weren’t exactly tall. You were up on your toes, your shirt stretching up as your arm reached above your head. Then you felt it, something slightly damp pressing against your back. A warm breath brushed down your neck and you froze.

Taehyung’s face came into view as he reached over you to get the glasses. His hair was wet and he smelled clean and fresh and… leathery. You didn’t realize that you were leaning in to smell him until he pulled away and you almost toppled over. You cleared your throat and tried to pretend that you weren’t just sniffing up the boy. A smirk had spread over the boy’s face, but you were too distracted by your thoughts to notice.

The sound of people entering had you looking up in excitement. Two other boys entered, neither of whom you recognized. Both had blonde hair, but one was much taller with most of it shaved off, and the other was short and his hair was curly. Both were gorgeous and you started wondering if this whole friend group was made up of model-worthy people.

“Please Joon, she was definitely into me,” the shorter one huffed as he flicked the man’s chest. Neither one noticed you as they dumped bags of snacks and games on the counter. The taller one, Joon, snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Get over yourself Jimin, she was practically falling in my lap when I was trying to get her to pay, but if you want her, she’s all yours,” he huffed and started emptying the bags. Both boys were covered in tattoos and piercings, just like Taehyung. You weren’t sure whether to say hi or just try to pretend like you weren’t there until someone introduced you.

You turned around, deciding to just start setting up the other things. Only then did you realize there was nothing for you to do. Hoseok was like a work machine and Taehyung had taken away your one job. So instead, you just stared at the empty countertops, feeling like an actual idiot.

“Oh shit, I didn’t realize we were inviting girls.”

You whirled around, meeting both the boys’ curious stares. A hand lifted on natural instinct and you just waved. You mentally face-palmed yourself when both boys just waved back, the shorter one trying not to laugh while the other’s eyebrows furrowed. With an internal sigh, you prepared to introduce yourself, but were saved by the sound of the door opening and someone storming in.

Jin rounded the corner, carrying a pack of beer with a big smile on his face. He grinned at both boys and then saw you. A squeal—something similar to a little girl—escaped him and he practically pranced over to you. He wrapped you up in a hug and you didn’t return it because you were too shocked. You weren’t expecting that.

Hell, he hadn’t even taken you on that date yet.

“Y/N!” He chirped and then turned to the boys. “Have you met Y/N?”

“Nope,” Jimin said with a grin and held out a hand for you to shake. You quickly accepted it and then shook the other’s. You were certain you looked like the epitome of awkward as you pursed your lips. You stuck your hands in your pockets and rocked back and forth on your feet.

“So, are you new here?” Joon asked, running a hand through the mohawk. “Um yeah, I just moved here several weeks ago,” you murmured, trying not to hide behind Jin as they focused their attention on you. Hoseok also entered the kitchen, smiling at the boys.

“She’s actually our neighbor. She’s the one whose door Tae showed up at,” the man said with a laugh. Jimin burst out laughing and Taehyung chose to enter the kitchen at that time, the younger boy from the garage following him. Jimin glanced at the brown-haired boy and his laughter just grew louder.

“Wow, you invited the girl that you scared the crap out of, Tae? You must have no shame!” The short boy squeaked, wiping away fake tears. Tae blushed and glanced at you. He shrugged and didn’t try to explain himself as he quickly grabbed a beer and opened it.

“Oh,” the boy, Kookie, spoke up, “and it gets better because Jin’s asked her out.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but Jimin’s laughter got louder and shriller. He held his stomach and when he started to fall onto Joon, the man just stepped out of the way and let the blonde sprawl on floor and finish his laughing fit. You couldn’t help but chuckle.  It was a weird situation, wasn’t it?

The rest of the night went similarly to that; the boys making fun of one another and there was a constant stream of laughter. You quickly found most of them to be over-dramatic and full of attitude. When you were playing UNO, Jimin repeatedly threatened everyone with murder if they tried to stop him from winning.

He lost every time.

At the last game, the blonde finally lost it and tackled Jungkook to the floor, attempting to strangle the younger boy. Everyone ignored the two as they fumbled around on the floor, Jimin screeching about how he should have won and it was Jungkook’s fault for throwing plus fours at him like they were dollar bills.

It was getting close to eleven and you sighed, exhaustion starting to catch up to you. You ended up calling it and night and wishing the boy’s goodnight. You had an early shift in the morning and didn’t want your late night to rub off onto your patients. Jin offered to walk you to your door and you happily accepted.

The two of you paused in front of your door and you felt like a young teen for a second as you could feel your heart speed up. Would he kiss you goodnight? You blushed when he studied your face intensely and then a small smiled pulled at his lips. He reached down, cupping your cheeks. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for the feeling of his lips on yours, only for his warmth to softly press against your forehead.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

∞∞∞∞∞∞

As the weeks passed, you and Jin went on dates as often as you could. You and Hobi grew closer and you were practically living at the man’s house. One of the things you immediately noticed was the lack of Taehyung. He was occasionally there, but it felt like you were in his house more than he was. Hoseok obviously enjoyed your company, he worked his job from home most of the time, but he didn’t get many calls, nor did he have to do paperwork, and since Tae was never home, he was always bored.

You tried to make some female friends outside of the boys, but found it hard. There were sometimes girls at their social nights, but none of them were particularly nice towards you. It felt weird having more guy friends than girls.

You soon learned why Hobi didn’t like Tae’s friends. Jin had come over one night and three of you had been watching a movie, when a group of semi-drunk people stumbled into the home. They reeked of weed and none of them seemed to understand what manners were. Taehyung wasn’t as much of an asshole as them, but he was ruder than normal. He ignored Hoseok when he tried to talk to him in private and openly gagged at the sight of you and Jin cuddled up together. In the end, you said goodnight to Hoseok and you and Jin finished watching the movie at your house before he left.

Work was still slow, but you didn’t mind too much. It was better than your old job in Seoul, constantly running back and forth, doctors screaming demands at you and patients in hysterics around you. Sometimes you missed the rush, but you started to get used to the calmer vibes of Jinju.

“So you do have a boyfriend, Miss Y/L/N?” The little girl asked. You chuckled and nodded as you checked her vitals. “Is he cute?”

“Very cute, do you have a boyfriend?” You tease, quickly typing the results into the computer. You watched out of the corner of your eye as the little girl perked up. She shrugged and then frowned. “I dunno, there’s this cute boy in my class… but he’s always so mean to me. My mom says that it means he likes me, but that doesn’t make sense,” she pouted and then like a drama-queen, threw her hands in the air and collapsed back on the bed. “Maybe he’ll be nicer to me when I go back to school. Is your boyfriend nice to you?” You laugh, thinking about yours and Jin’s last date. You hadn’t brought proper shoes for a hike, so the man had forced you to ride on his back the whole time so you wouldn’t hurt yourself. Your cheeks heated up and you ducked your head.

“Yes, Jiwoo,” you say. The girl pouts and goes on a rant about how the boy obviously doesn’t like her. You listen intently, you’re lunch break was soon and you wanted to avoid any doctors so you could have the whole break to yourself.

When the time came, you bid goodbye to the girl and let her parents know that she’d be clear to leave soon. You stumbled over to the front desk to tell the receptionist that you were taking your break. The woman, Yuna, looked up and grinned and then blinked, asking you to wait for a second.

“Ah yes, you have a visitor. In the ah—well, right over there.”

You blinked and turned around, searching the seats  for someone familiar. A smile spread over your face when you saw Jin sitting there, looking awkward in the tiny seat. A tiny smile was on his face and when he saw you, he bounced to his feet and tripped when he tried to rush over. You chuckled when he finally made it over and the two of you shared a quick kiss.

“Hmmm, what are you doing here?” You murmured, watching him under your lashes.

“I brought you lunch, I was gonna stay and eat with you, but they need me back at the garage,” he explained, handing you a small box. You accepted it with a grin and thanked him softly. You loved Jin’s cooking and your mouth started to water from the scent that wafted from the box.

“Are you coming tonight? Hoseok is throwing another game night,” he asked, wrapping an arm around your waist. You nodded. He kissed you goodbye and kept waving until he exiting the building.

You arrived late to the party, unable to shower, but you had time to change into clothes. You stepped into Hoseok’s, bursting into laughter when Jungkook ran up to you, trying to hide behind you as Jin shook a spatula at him. When the boy tried to run around you and escape, there was a loud smack as the spatula quickly made contact with the boy’s ass. He yelped, screaming for Hoseok to save him.

You hugged Jin, thanking him once again for the lunch. You met Tae’s gaze from across the room and were slightly surprised to see him. You hadn’t seen him since that night with his friends and that had been two weeks ago. He didn’t look different or anything, but maybe you were shocked that he wasn’t drunk. He offered you a weary smile, but you could see annoyance flickering across his face.

“How was work today, Y/N?” Hoseok asked when he saw you. He was setting up a game and you couldn’t help but notice that his smile was brighter than normal.

“Well, I got to talk to a little girl about my boyfriend,” you said with a giggle, pinching Jin’s arm. The man grinned and slung an arm over your shoulder. “You seem really happy, Hobi, what’s up?”

“Yoongi’s coming tonight,” Jungkook piped up for him.

Yoongi was the only one of the friend group that you hadn’t met. You knew a little bit about him, from what you could pick up in conversations. Apparently, he was a well-known, underground rapper. He used to be Tae and Hobi’s roommate, until his job forced him to move Incheon. You couldn’t quite figure out his and Hobi’s relationship; whether they were lovers or best friends. It didn’t matter, he made Hoseok happy.

“And thank god, Jimin isn’t coming!” The maknae piped up again, fist bumping the air. You snorted as Taehyung smacked his head and told him to stop lying about his hate for Jimin.

Namjoon and Jimin owned a tattoo and piercing barn together. You had originally thought they were a couple, but just turned out they were close co-workers who were, in Namjoon’s words, “stuck together for eternity and it’s tearing apart my ability to live.” You found out that Joon did Tae’s tattoos and you were amazed—the tattoos always looked amazing, but knowing that Joon was the artist was weird in a sense.

You played a couple of rounds of Go-fish and Sword Girls. Hoseok kept looking at the door and the clock, his teeth working his lip as he waited for the rapper to arrive. Jin was extra touchy, cuddling up to you and pressing kisses to your shoulder and head repeatedly. Tae looked more annoyed than normal and he kept making faces at you and Jin. Jungkook was the same—a ball of energy that was being unnecessarily vicious in the games.

When the doorbell rang it was like a bomb went off. Hoseok let out a scream and shoved Taehyung out of his way so he could get to the door. Tae also popped up, looking the happiest he had the whole night. You turned and watched as the door opened. A man with light blue hair entered and you looked away when the two hugged; it felt like you were seeing a private moment.

Hoseok dragged the man into the living room, bouncing on his toes. Tae hugged him and Jin waved. Hobi introduced you and then breezed over it, talking non-stop about everything. The game was forgotten as the pair sat on the couch and conversed. The rest of you got up and migrated to the kitchen, trying to pretend like you weren’t watching out of their corner of your eyes and eavesdropping.

“Well, as much as I’d like to say this night will continue, it’s already ended,” Taehyung said and you felt uncomfortable as his gaze was fixed on you. He dragged his gaze away to look at Kook. “You wanna stay here tonight or do you have the early shift?” The boy said he had to leave and then bid everyone goodbye. You tucked yourself into Jin and tickled his sides. It was still an early night and you didn’t want him to leave yet. Taehyung looked away from the two of you, clearing his throat and mindlessly sipping at the beer he held.

“Wanna go back to my place?” You asked, figuring the two of you could just watch a movie. The man nodded and went go grab his coat. You said goodbye to Taehyung and quickly left that you didn’t see the way the boy slammed down his bottle and the frown that took over his face. He clenched his hands into fists and grit his teeth.

You and Jin watched a romcom, but at some point the two of you became less interested in the movie and more interested in each other. You moaned into his mouth as you grinded down on the obvious erection he was sporting. You pulled back with a gasp, your heart hammering as the man’s hands slowly ran up your sides. He pulled you back down, pressing a rough kiss to your lips. He rutted his hips up into yours and you grasped his shoulders.

He hefted you up and the two of you struggled to your room. You let out a breathy laugh when you fell back onto the bed. He tore off his shirt and you admired the expanse of milky skin under the material. He climbed a top you and you whimpered into his mouth when he positioned his knee between your legs.

“Fuck,” you hissed.

∞∞∞∞∞∞

You woke up the next morning with a smile on your face and a blissful ache between your legs. You could hear Jin whistling in the kitchen and utilities clanging around as he prepared breakfast. You stretched, letting out a mewl as your muscles pulled. You got up and threw on a shirt and shorts.

You walked out to the kitchen and pressed a kiss to the boy’s cheek. He gave you a side hug and then went back to focusing on the food. You stumbled over to the couch and sat down, but the second you did there was a knock at your door. You grumbled and got up, going over to the door and wondering who the hell would be here this early in the morning. When you opened the door, you were shocked to see Tae standing there, looking exhausted and his hair a slight mess.

“Ta… what are you doing here?” You queried, not stepping back to let him into the house. He glanced around you, almost like he was trying to see into the house, and then his eyes ran over your legs. You suddenly realized how underdressed you were and became aware of the several hickies that covered your neck and shoulders.

“Um… we’re out of coffee and I don’t mean to be annoying… but I’m desperate and I don’t think I’ll be able to function without it,” he stammered, scratching the back of his neck. You blinked in disbelief—this boy was really here just for a cup of coffee?

Of course, you couldn’t judge him. You were addicted to coffee as well and had three cups every morning. With a sigh, you opened the door further and let him in, forgetting that Jin was in the kitchen. You didn’t see his expression when he saw the boy; his eyes widened and then narrowed and a dark look took over his features. He practically threw himself at your dining table, a sour feeling roiling through his stomach.

If Jin was shocked to see Taehyung, he didn’t voice it or show it. He just glanced over his shoulder and then went back to working on the food. You quickly made a cup of coffee, desperate to get the boy out of your house. You could feel tension in the air and you hoped it was just your over-imaginative mind that was putting it there.

Unlike the first morning Tae had been in your house, he chugged down the coffee, so fast he almost choked on it. He quickly thanked you and then raced from your home. You watched in confusion and then shrugged, turning back to Jin. He didn’t seem to care that the boy was gone and finished preparing the breakfast.

After a nice breakfast, the man bid you goodbye and left for work. You couldn’t rid the smile from your face; the moment felt so surreal. Waking up to him making you breakfast and spending the early hours together and then leaving for work. You blushed when the thought of him returning home after work struck your mind and scolded yourself for getting too far ahead of yourself. You’d barely been dating for a month—you shouldn’t be thinking of that.

In the later morning, Hobi asked you to come over so you could actually meet Yoongi this time. But the way the boy texted you, it sounded like more of a SOS. Apparently things had changed so much since they saw each other and it was more than a little awkward. You felt it in the air the second you stepped into the threshold, Hoseok over-excitedly greeting you at the door and the stranger standing silently in the kitchen with a cup of coffee.

You did a double take.

They had coffee. So why had Taehyung come barging into your house just for the sake of coffee? You frowned, studying the counter to see that, in fact, their coffee machine was definitely stocked up. It was weird and there was an odd feeling in the back of your mind, but you couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought around it.

“So, Y/N, this is Min Yoongi. Yoongi, this is Y/L/N Y/N,” Hoseok chirped, forcing you from your thoughts. You smiled at the man and waved. He offered you a small smile back and then the room fell into silence. You opened your mouth and then closed it, looking away.

“You work at the hospital, correct?” The man said, leaning back against the counter as he studied you.

“Yeah. I’m a RNA. I didn’t graduate college, so I couldn’t get a degree to become a registered nurse,” you explained, “although I don’t regret it. I do get paid less, but the work isn’t as gruelling and I typically get easier patients. You… uh, you’re a rapper, right?”

He studied you for a second, almost like he was trying to gauge your exact thoughts on his job. You squirmed warily under his stare, but it was cut off when Hobi pinched the man’s elbow. Yoongi winced, throwing a quick glare at his friend, before smiling at you with a real smile.

“Yeah. Although that’s more of a part-time thing for me. I write and produce music most of the time,” he murmured. Then he turned to Hobi, a nervous look twitching over his face. “Could we go see Namjoon and Jimin?”

“I’m down, I’ve been wanting to get one of my tattoos fixed up for a while.”

You froze and for some reason your heart started racing. You wanted to turn around and meet his gaze, to challenge him about the coffee, but for some reason you couldn’t. You weren’t sure if he noticed you, but you heard Yoongi ask him if he had a good shower and a low chuckle coming from Hoseok.

“Well, this is good—Yoongi can say hi to those two, you can do your tattoo, and Y/N can finally see the tattoo barn.”

You turned around, refusing to meet Tae’s gaze and opening your mouth to argue with Hobi, but something in the man’s gaze stopped you. You swallowed and nodded, following the three boys out of the house. Yoongi looked tense and Hoseok had a mischievous smile on his face, but the way his fingers were fidgeting proved that he was also nervous.   

You and Taehyung sat in the back of Yoongi’s car, the both of you avoiding each other. The car was bitterly silent and no one dared to breathe a word. The ride was awful, almost suffocating. There was tension between Hobi and Yoongi and the way the two get glancing at each other, with Hobi’s eyebrows furrowing and the ladder’s lips pursing, you knew something was up. You wondered if it was because of the two boys you were going to see. Did Yoongi not get along with one of them? Or was it something else? When the four of you arrived, you all got out. As you approached the door right behind Hobi, Tae grabbed your wrist and pulled you back. You wriggled against him and then whirled around. “What?” You snapped.

“You’re gonna wanna give them a few minutes,” he muttered, eyes slowly moving to look through the glass door.

You blinked and followed his gaze. You couldn’t see through the glass, but you could see silhouettes moving.

“Why?” You whispered back and then the door opened and Namjoon stepped out. The tall blonde looked stressed, but he didn’t say anything to either of you guys as he stepped off to the side.

“Some things happened between the three of them right before Yoongi left—none of us know exactly what—but I think it had something to do with Jimin and Yoongi’s relationship,” he explained under his breath, side-eyeing Joon. “Sometimes I wonder if it was the real reason he left and just used music as an excuse.”

You pursed your lips, taking in that information. Jimin and Yoongi were in a relationship before he moved and Hobi was involved. A dark feeling rolled through your stomach and you had a vague idea of what had happened. The three of you stood out there for ten minutes, before you slowly entered.

You entered last, trying to meet Hobi’s stare, but it was focused on the ground. Yoongi stood beside him, arms crossed with a pissed expression on his face. Jimin greeted you guys with a smile, pulling you in for a side hug, but there wasn’t the usual bounce in his step.

“You know where to go Tae,” Joon said, barely sending a glance his way as he quickly went to stand beside Jimin. “I’ll be over in a few.”

You didn’t want to go with Tae, but the boy grabbed your wrist and dragged you along behind him. You wanted to go comfort Hoseok, but maybe he was right to let them work it out for awhile. Tae flopped down in a chair and when you went to sit in the stool, he pulled you into his lap. You went rigid, trying to fight your way out, the boy was adamant.

“Joon’s gonna sit there,” he muttered, his mouth unnecessarily close to your ear.  

“Then I’ll just stand,” you tried to argue, but he wasn’t having it. You felt stupid as you sat on his lap—not because of the awkwardness, but because you weren’t completely opposed to the idea. You knew you should’ve been, but it just felt right to be right there.

When Joon walked in, he didn’t mention anything about where you were sitting. If he found it weird or disrespectful, he said nothing. He took Tae’s arm, wiped it down, and the two had a quick conversation of what had to be fixed. You watched as he set up the ink and then got a tight hold on Tae’s wrist before bringing the pen down. The second the needle was pressed into his skin, the boy’s other hand tightened around your waist. You don’t know why you did, but you wrapped your hand around his. You weren’t creeped out by the needle—you worked with them everyday—you were more intrigued by the liquid-like movement as Joon fixed the rose design.

It took about fifteen minutes to do the tattoo and at some point you weren’t even aware of the fact that you were on Tae’s lap. You had relaxed into him and just watched the needle move. The look of concentration on Joon’s face was gorgeous. You really made a mistake when you looked back at Tae to see his teeth digging into his bottom lip and his head thrown back, eyes pinched shut. Your cheeks flushed red and you looked away, trying to rid the image of your mind. It wasn’t a M rated situation, but by the look on his face you’d think he was getting a bl-

“All finished,” Joon murmured, “you don’t have to pay for this one, since I was the reason it got messed up in the first place. Wait for the ink to dry.”

“That was cool,” you muttered, finally glancing back at Taehyung when the tattoo artist left.

He chuckled at the twinkle in your eyes.

“Have you never seen that before?” He asked teasingly.

“I never went with my friends when they got one and I never got one,” you muttered and shifted on his lap. Now that it was over, you didn’t feel the need to stay in his lap anymore. You tried to get up, but he kept a steady arm on you. You wiggled, trying to escape. “Come on, Tae.”

“Don- don’t do that sweets,” he hissed.

You froze, but it was too late. You could feel him, pressed up against you. His arm had loosened on you and you knew that you could’ve leapt out of his arms, but you were just frozen. Too many thoughts were racing in your head and you hated the fact that you enjoyed that you were the reason he was this way. The feeling of him pressed against you was too good and you felt heat spread along your cheeks and down to your stomach.

You glanced at him over your shoulder. He met your gaze, nerves evident in his stare as he searched your gaze. Your thoughts were going too fast for you to keep up and the ideas that came to your mind were terrible, but you wanted to do them. A crazy adrenaline high rushed through you and you found yourself leaning in and pressing a kiss against his lips. He stiffened up, but within seconds was returning it.

His hand tangled itself in your hair and he pulled you closer. Your hands fell on his chest and you turned around so you were straddling his waist. A whimper fell from you when he bit your lips and you could feel the cool metal of his tongue piercing sliding along. You opened your mouth and the feeling was just too good, there was something about him. You grinded down on him unintentionally and he threw his head back, letting out a soft groan.

“Fuck sweets,” he hissed, glancing at you.

You blinked and then quickly got off his lap, rushing towards the car.

∞∞∞∞∞∞

“So the two of you kissed?” Hoseok asked in disbelief. Taehyung groaned and nodded, burying his face in his hands. Why did he let that happen? Y/N was dating one of his friends! The girl had opted for getting a ride home from Jimin who had decided the escape the second he could.

It was awful—he’d managed to hide his boner with his jacket, but it refused to go away—he ended up having to jack off when he got home. It didn’t make sense, no girl ever had that much control over him before. It was like he was tightly wrapped around her finger—hell, he’d probably clean her bathroom floor with his tongue if she asked.

“Shouldn’t you be mad at me or something?” Tae huffed, glancing at his hyung. The man shrugged, running a hand through his hair.

“I’ve been the side-chick before Tae,” he murmured softly, “maybe I should be mad… but I understand what it feels like.”

He opened his mouth but shut it when Yoongi entered the living room. The man had been distressed, but now he seemed to have relaxed slightly. He grinned at Hoseok and sat down beside him. Tae watched the two interact, suddenly starting to understand the circumstances of their relationship.

He couldn’t help but wish that someday him and Y/N could be that close.

“And then in the morning the only reason you went over was to see if Jin was still there?” Hobi queried and Taehyung nodded, throwing his head back.

“I just… gosh this is stupid,” he muttered.

“Well,” Yoongi huffed, “mind you, Jin is still Jin. If what I’ve heard is correct, this has been his longest relationship, but he’s normally with girls for a couple weeks. What’s to stop him from cutting her off soon?”

Taehyung wished his heart hadn’t sped up at that idea. It was true, Jin wasn’t exactly known for… permanency. Of course, none of them really were, were they? Jungkook had never been in a relationship and it was a total shock that the boy wasn’t a virgin. Hoseok occasionally went on dates, Jimin hadn’t had an actual relationship since Yoongi left, Namjoon was private about that part of his life, and Taehyung… hell, he only slept around. What was to say he was any better? “Of course, that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to date her afterwards,” Yoongi interjected again. Tae glanced up and couldn’t help the frown that came to his face. The blue-haired man just shrugged and when the brunette looked to Hobi, the man refused to meet his gaze. He sighed.

“Well, shit,” he grumbled. He got up, grabbing a coat and heading for the door. When Hobi asked where he was going, he didn’t reply. He’d rather drink his feelings away and get high than deal with it.

He started up the car, heading towards the broken down part of town.

∞∞∞∞∞∞

You hated the night shift. It was empty and lifeless the whole time, no one has ever been wheeled in here, blood gushing from multiple wounds. You couldn’t help but miss the emergency nights you’d had in Seoul. Yes—they were stressful and sometimes caused you to wonder why you ever decided to take this job—but there was always a rush of adrenaline that came with it. Here, you just sat at the receptionist desk, sipping at coffee, and staring at a blank screen.

“Fucking hell,” you groaned, leaning back in you chair. You had taken an extra shift in hopes of forgetting about what had happened at the Tattoo Barn and to, ashamedly admit, avoid Jin. You tried to tell yourself it was because you were too guilty to look him in the eye, but you knew better.

You just didn’t want to see him because after what happened with Tae… you started debating the way your heart raced.

But since the hospital was empty and you had no personal patients, you were left alone with your thoughts and the reception desk. Yuna’s son was sick, so you offered to take her spot instead. You figured it’d be better than just sitting in the hospital, but considering that nobody checked in or out, you were just staring into space. You groaned again and let your head fall onto the counter.

You glanced at your phone and pressed your finger to the home button. You sighed when you saw the message from Jin, telling you good luck. He’d always texted you on your other late night shifts, but this time your heart just didn’t flutter. “It’s just because he’s done it so much now that I’ve gotten used to it,” you thought aloud. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. Wrong. You had a feeling that if Taehyung texted you, your heart would probably explode. “Emotions shouldn’t change that fast though! I really liked Jin, how can I so easily switch to Tae! Hell, I think at some points I hated that boy.”

You frowned again, there was a thin line between love and hate, wasn’t there?   

“But I don’t love him… do I?”

You went to take a sip of your coffee, but as you brought the cup to your lips you spilled it as a loud shriek split the silence. You jumped up from your chair, almost toppling out of it. A girl covered in tattoos stumbled in, an arm slung over her shoulder as she dragged someone in beside her. You hurried over, wrinkling your nose at the strong scent of weed and alcohol.

“What happened?” You asked when you saw blood and saliva drip from the boy’s mouth.

“I-I don’t know! One second we were all fine and then somebody said something and a fight broke out and I… oh god, there’s so much blood,” she sobbed and you glanced at her and then over your shoulder. You didn’t have your pager on you so you couldn’t call a doctor or a nurse, but you figured you were experienced enough to take care of him for five minutes.

“Help me take him to a room,” you said quickly and grabbed his other arm. The two of you dragged him to the nearest room and dumped him onto the bed. The girl continued to sob and then disappeared into the bathroom, the sounds of retching echoing through the room.

You pulled back the boy’s hood, blinking when you saw a half-passed out Taehyung. You held in your gasp, staring at the open cut that ran over his eyebrow and cheek. His lips were busted and a bruise was starting to form on one of his eyes. Blood was dripping from his lips, dark red sliding down his chin and along his neck, staining the gray t-shirt he wore. He reeked of weed and beer and there were blood spots along his shirt.

“Okay, Tae, I can do this,” you mumbled.

You rustled through the cabinets, pulling out the gauze, antiseptic, needles, and stitches. You may have not graduated, but you’d spent hours learning how to clean wounds and stitch when you dated your ex. He’d done underground boxing and was part of the reason you majored in nursing.

You pressed the gauze into the cut on his forehead, watching as he winced and his eyes flew open, deep eyes meeting yours. He didn’t recognize you, his eyes were still completely dilated, but you were glad to see he was awake. You washed off the blood, cleaning out the wound, and then sanitized the needle. Your teeth tore into your bottom lip as you leaned over him, trying to ignore the way your hands shook.

It took several minutes, but you managed to tightly close up the cut. You cleaned up his lip and then lifted up his, wincing at what you saw. You’d seen awful injuries on your ex, but maybe it was the fact that this boy didn’t choose to get himself hurt. Bruises lined his ribs and stomach and whoever he was going at must’ve been wearings rings. Tiny cuts—nothing too bad—were spread over over the expanse of white and blue skin.

You cleaned up the cuts and then backed away. You didn’t bother to see if the girl was still there or if she’d left. He had to have internal bleeding, especially if he’d been coughing up blood. You’d need a doctor for that.

“Stay awake for me,” you whispered, brushing a thumb over his cheek and before you could overthink, pressed a quick kiss to his cold lips.

When you returned with a doctor and a nurse, you were shoved out of the way as they wheeled him out and to the surgery ward. You sat alone at the desk, arms crossed over yourself. You sighed, fingering your scrubs and then reached for your phone. You debated calling Jin, but then decided against it.

“Hobi? Hey, um… there’s been an accident with Tae,” you mumbled into the phone, trying not to let the sound of your tears through. The man replied in a flurry of cusses and random words and you could hear him fumbling around in the background. The only thing you got from it that he would be there soon.

And sure enough, he was. The red-haired man came running in, Yoongi hot on his heels. He asked you if he could see his roommate, but when you shook your head, he opted for nearly leaping over the desk to hug you. He wasn’t crying, but he was shaking like crazy. You bit your lip and then decided against fighting your emotions. You sobbed into his chest, pulling at his jacket.

You knew why you were so scared, you knew why it hurt to even see him like that, but you kept it inside and didn’t say anything. Several minutes later the other boys arrived. The seven of you sat in silence as you waited for the surgery to finish and for Tae to come up from under the anesthesia.

Morning came and you woke up, your neck sore and head pounding. You fell asleep against Jin in the uncomfortable waiting chairs. Hoseok shook you awake, saying that Tae was finally up and the nurse said he could see him as long as a staff member was present. You groaned and then led the man towards his room. You stepped in, avoiding the brunette’s stare.

Silence filled the room for only a moment before Hoseok exploded.

“You dumbass! God, you should be super fucking glad that you’re already injured or else I would actually beat you. How many times have I told you that those people are terrible influences and that you shouldn’t hang out with them? It’s an actual ass miracle that one of them had the brains to not let you bleed out all over the floor. What would you have done… what would I have done if you died?” He snapped, his voice breaking once he finished his rant. He marched over to the side of Tae’s bed and you prepared yourself to step in, but the older man just stared down at his friend. Hoseok sighed and then fell into the chair beside the bed. “I’m so fucking glad you’re alive. We all are.”

You nodded and finally found the guts to approach the bed. The boy glanced up at you and you smiled weakly at him. He blinked and then glanced down at your hands that fidgeted with the bed sheets. His hand reached out for yours, but when he stopped halfway you reached forward and grasped his cut up hand. You stroked your thumb over his knuckles, feeling the broken skin with a shudder.

“You gonna say anything?” He asked with a broken laugh. You shrugged and then sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t think I need to reprimand you…” you said softly and then met his gaze. “But I swear, if you ever bleed on my scrubs again I’ll fight you at 3 AM.”

Tae smiled and then looked down at your intertwined hands. Part of you knew that you should pull your hand away, you were still dating Jin, but you couldn’t find the strength to do it. Then you sighed and glanced out the window. The sun was out and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. You smiled.

3 weeks later…

“Hello there.”

You sighed and glanced over your shoulder as Taehyung approached you. You were struggling to take your groceries into your house. The boy grinned at you when you dropped your keys for the umpteenth time and when you just pouted at them. He slowly walked over, picked up the keys for you, and opened the door. You hated the way that he stood so close.

You waltzed into your house, the boy following you. It was a late Friday night. You’d been trying to avoid Tae since his accident, but you were nice to him when you saw each other. Of course, you’d also been avoiding Jin, and you hated the relief that had swept through you when your boyfriend told you he was going home to visit his parents for a week.

“What do you want, Tae?” You murmured quietly, glancing at him over your shoulder. Your eyes gravitated towards his lips, but you forced yourself to meet his burning stare.

“Can’t a friend say hello once in a while? I mean, you did save my life… that sort of makes us buddies for life, right?” He said with a grin, sitting down at your kitchen table like he owned the fucking place. You frowned at him and fought the urge to flip him off.

“Don’t talk like that,” you snapped, practically throwing your groceries on the counter. A low chuckle came from him and you despised the shivers it sent down your spine.

“Right, I forgot that we could never really be friends… because of that incident,” his voice dropped an octave when he reminded you of that night. You pursed your lips, pinching your eyes shut.

His roughs hand gripped at your waist, the two of you tumbling back onto the hospital bed. He hovered over you, his lips ghosting yours with a coy smirk. You glared at him, locking your hands in his hair and pulling him close. Your lips crashed together in a blaze of teeth and tongues.

“Is it just that hard to look at me and not remember that?”

He practically ripped off your pants, his fingers immediately pressing into your folds through your panties. You whimpered, your hips bucking up into his touch. He groaned, pressing kisses down your neck. He moved your panties to the side, one thick finger dipping into your core. You both groaned at the feeling and he pushed in, curling his fingers right into the perfect spot. You mewled beneath him, begging for more.

“Don’t play this game with me, Tae.”

He stretched you out, wasting not time adding two more fingers and scissoring them inside you. Your hands tangled themselves in his hair and you watched his face as he focused his sole attention on the way his fingers pumped in and out of your pussy. He grinned at the sight of your juices leaking out around his thick digits, staining the sheets and your panties.

“What game do you think I’m playing, sweets?”

He pressed the head of his cock against you, glancing at you one more time. His teeth dug into his lip and he pushed in swiftly. You gasped at the feeling and he let out a deep breath. You arched your back, trying to someone take him deeper even though it didn’t feel possible.

“God sweets, you’re so tight.”

He started thrusting slowly but as you continued to whimper underneath him, begging him over and over to go faster, he complied. His thrusts became rough and he was so fucking precise with his movement. Almost all the way out and then right into your cervix, yours hips smashing together.

“I’m dating your friend, Taehyung!”

“Oh, ruin me Tae!” He grinned, nipping at your neck. His thrusts became more erratic as your walls tightened around him and the both of you were approaching your highs. He gasped, whispering a praise under his breath. You squirmed, tightening around him and white exploding in your vision as you came undone beneath him. He jerked his head back, release filling you up.

“You didn’t seem to care about that then.”

The two of you laid side by side in bed. His arm was wrapped around your waist and your head rested on his shoulder. You’d attempted at cleaning up, but you were still covered in sweat and the both of you reeked of sex. You sighed, glancing up at him.

“This can’t happen again, Tae,” you murmured, tracing patterns on his chest.

“But why—”

“You know why,” you huffed, sitting up in bed. You pulled your scrubs back on, glancing at him over your shoulder. “We won’t talk about this, ever.

“It’d be best if we try not to see each other often after this.”

He opened his mouth again, but you beat him to it.

“Dammit, Tae, get out!” You snapped, your hand slamming down on the table. His eyes widened as you glared at him. You so desperately wanted to be with him, constantly, but you couldn’t. He would ruin you.

Hell, he already had.

“Just leave Tae… I don’t want…” you trailed off, fighting back the tears that built up. “I don’t want anything you have to offer.”

He sighed and you turned away as he left.

Hello there.

A/N: lmao, I’m sorry, I know this isn’t the ending you wanted

#bts #kpop #bangtan #bangtan boys #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #tae x reader #v x reader #taehyung x reader smut #v x reader smut #taehyung smut #kim taehyung smut #tae smut #v smut #taehyung short story #bts smut #bts oneshot #bts short story #bts x reader smut #ziv

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Quest to Bedding the Lead Singer of Frontman

Pairing: You / Jungkook

Creative Contributor: @moonmangyu FOR THE PERFECT MOODBOARD *sweats* 

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex)

Warnings: (oral, dirty talk, slightly dom!kook?)

Word Count: 9,582

Summary: Frontman is your favorite band in the world and honestly, the only reason you waited this long in line is to stand at the front for a shot with the lead singer. Enter sexy sound boy, who just won’t leave you alone. (punk!Jungkook)

Aaron Gendry is, without a doubt, the hottest individual you have ever laid eyes on.

Everything about the man oozes sex; from the taut length of his thighs strutting across the stage that cool, slicked-back hairstyle he wears. Just one look beneath sky-darkened lashes and every girl in the vicinity is panting for more – including you, although you try and play it cooler than the rest. Rather than scream, you twist a lock of hair around a finger to glance up from the crowd. As luck would have it, you are right at the front – standing directly before the fabled crotch of Aaron Gendry, lead singer of Frontman.

Except that being here was not by luck, it was due to arriving at the venue thirteen hours prior in the hopes of snagging this very seat. You have seen Frontman before but never front row – a fact which, today, you were determined to change.

With a final swing of his hips, Aaron finishes the song. Bright neon lights flash and then fade, the crowd all around you smelling of sweat and of beer. Screams mingling with the others, you cannot help but grin. As the stage plunges into oblivion, only those nearest to Aaron see him wiping his brow. This, obviously, prompts more screams and you fight not to roll your eyes – as if Aaron would go for someone that easy.

Shifting your weight, you press closer and that is when it happens. The Moment. The dividing line between your life before and your life after – the Moment when Aaron Gendry notices you. He squats at the edge of the stage, reaching out for his water (a clear bottle which happens to be located before you). His gaze scans the crowd and when he looks down at the row, his eyes lock on yours.

Time itself seems to still while Aaron’s gaze sweeps your body. Every inch of you is on edge. You are aflame, ice tingling your spine because he does not just look – he lingers, which is another thing entirely. Holy shit, you have no idea what to do because he continues to stare and does not look away. The stage is dark in between songs, meaning only those in the first rows can see.

Another hand clutches your arm, someone shoving their way forward and the moment is broken, world resuming around you. Aaron stands, offering a grin to the crowd and the lights blaze overhead to show his ridiculously handsome face. Smoke drifts overhead and when the venue lets out a cheer, Aaron raises both arms.

You are still standing motionless, stricken by the fact that the unthinkable has happened. At the first chords of the guitar, you manage to exhale a breath you did not realize you held.

“Oh my GOD!” your best friend, Cindy shrieks. “HE SAW YOU! RIGHT THERE! AARON GENDRY, DEBATABLY THE WORLD’S MOST FUCKABLE MAN, HE NOTICED YOU!”

She starts shaking your shoulders so hard, you cannot help but laugh. Bass reverberates through the crowd, nearly drowning out thought – but who cares about that, when Aaron Gendry locked eyes?

“He saw me!” you squeal, grabbing Cindy right back. “He did, didn’t he? That wasn’t just my imagination, right? I’m not crazy?!”

“Oh, hell no.” She grins, curly hair flopping. “That totally happened – Aaron looked at you. Not only that, Aaron smiled at you.”

Her words make you shriek with excitement, unable to contain your enthusiasm. You jump in the air, ecstatic as someone pushes you – hard – from behind. “Oof!” you exclaim, stumbling forward. The metal rail hits your stomach, knocking the wind from your lungs and for a moment you hang there, dazed and confused.

“Hey!” someone yells, loud in your ear. “Are you okay?”

The voice can be heard over the music, which is surprising given the decibel of  the concert. Cracking open an eye, you spot a guy through neon lights. He stands on the other side and there is a small, black earpiece dangling around his neck. For a moment, you can only stare because fuck, is he hot.

He is on the taller side, dressed in all-black with a t-shirt that reads, I Really Do Care, Do You? The political commentary is at eye-level and when your gaze sweeps upwards, you take in his whole frame – broad shoulders, narrow waist and the kind of arms which could lift deadweight with no problem. All of that is fine, all of that is good but when you come to his face, your eyes widen.

The guy is pretty – like, really pretty. With a strong brow and the kind of jawline you fear cutting yourself on. He peers at you from beneath scarlet-colored hair, small, silver hoops lining the curve of one ear. Swallowing hard, you push yourself up on the rail. The crowd behind you has shifted, no longer pressing you forward and (without thought) your gaze flicks over his shoulder to the stage.

“Ah.” The guy nods. He is chewing on something, probably gum. “I see you’re back to ogling the talent. Means you’re not hurt. Good.”

Slapping the railing with his palm, he replaces the bud in his ear and turns back towards the stage. You blink at him for a moment, confused – which is the only logical explanation for what you do next.

“Hey!” you yell, reaching out for his t-shirt. “You! Sound guy!”

The guy stops, turning around with one eyebrow quirked. He glance at the stage, then at you. “What?” he half-yells, straining to be heard over the crowd. “Did you drop your phone, or something?”

Scowling, you lean forward – this is one of your favorite songs and his rudeness is making you miss it. An unforgiveable offense. It is only, you do not want him to think of you are like all the rest – especially not if this guy works for Frontman. Especially not if he knows Aaron.

“No!” you yell, shaking your head. “I didn’t. I just wanted to tell you you’re wrong!”

The guy seems taken aback. He hesitates for a moment before smiling. “Oh?” Laughing, he pushes a hand through red-pink hair. “I’m wrong about what, exactly?”

“Me!” you huff, attempting to ignore the people elbowing your sides. “I wasn’t… ogling!”

The guy grins, crossing both arms over his chest. “Oh?” He leans forward, making you blink. “Then, what was the whole thing with the water bottle? You might as well have thrown your panties onstage.”

Cheeks heated at the accusation, your scowl deepens. “I was… that wasn’t – hey!” you say, slapping the bar. “That’s none of your business! It’s not like I’m wearing a sandwich board, asking to have sex!”

“Oh?” Coyly, he arches a brow. “That’s good to know. I’ll tell Aaron.”

When your mouth drops, he smirks and walks away. “Wait.” Head spinning, you reach again for his sleeve. “You know him? You know Aaron?”

Stopping in his tracks, the guy turns his head. “See?” he says, biting the inside of his cheek. “Told you. You’re the same as the rest.”

Realizing you have been tricked, you cross your arms over your chest. The act does great things for your cleavage. Tonight’s venue is hot and the crowd is all dressed in a similarly scantily-clad fashion. You, yourself are dressed in fishnets, high-waisted shorts and a cut-off which leaves little to the imagination.

What you are not imagining though, is the way sound guy’s gaze darts to your breasts.

“Hey,” you say, raising a brow. “My eyes are up here.”

The guy jerks upwards, but he has already been caught and both of you know it. It feels nice to have the upper hand for once, since everything he just said is startlingly spot-on. You do think Aaron is hot and you would definitely sleep with him if he asked – that is a large part of the reason you stand here, front row at his concert. Hearing it from this guy’s lips though, thrown back in your face… well, it kind of makes you feel like an idiot.

At least sound guy thinks you are hot, though.

“I wasn’t...” The guy sputters, glancing around. “I mean, I –”

Lowering your arms, you grin. “Whatever, sound boy.”

Frowning, his jaw clenches. “Jungkook, actually.”

“What?”

“Jungkook,” he repeats, pointing at himself. “My name is Jungkook!”

“What?!”

“JUNG-FUCKING-KOOK!”

“I know.” Grinning, you drop him a wink. “I heard you the first time. I’m Y/N.”

Jungkook’s face reddens, at an apparent loss for words and you cannot help but notice how cute he is. His gaze has a singular focus, as though you are the only person he sees. A rarity, at a concert like this. Just when he opens his mouth to respond though, someone squawks in his earpiece. You can hear it from here, the urgency obvious and Jungkook winces, returning the bud to his ear.

“Yeah?” he yells, turning away. 

You realize this means your conversation has ended – at least, for now.

Jungkook looks up and, catching you staring, raises a brow. Scowling harder, you turn to the stage but now are self-conscious Jungkook might be looking. It did not occur to you before, but now that it has, you feel more than a little awkward. It is hard not to think about what you are doing and why – he is right, it makes you cringe to consider throwing yourself at some guy.

But this is not just some guy, though – this is Aaron Gendry and as soon as you think this, Cindy grabs your arm. “Y/N,” she says, shaking you hard. “Remember that time, about five minutes ago, when Aaron SAW YOU AND SMILED?!”

Laughing, you allow yourself to be pulled from the rail. You came here for the concert, not to flirt with some boy – no matter how cute said sound boy might be. You are here for Aaron, for the band and will not let this experience be ruined by a stranger. As soon as you think this, the chords to the next song sound and you let out a squeal.

“I love this song!” you cry, breaking into a dance.

The concert flies by, each song melting into the next and you feel so high from the energy, so in tune with the music that you fail to notice the passage of time. When Aaron stops at the end, grabbing the mic and pushing sweat-dampened hair from his gaze, you find yourself whining along with the rest.

“Alright!” he yells, glancing up at the crowd. “Thank you so much for coming tonight! I’m not exaggerating when I say this is our favorite city each tour! If we could come every weekend, we would – no, really!” he laughs, speaking over the cheering.

“As if!” Cindy yells out, shoving your side.

Aaron waits for the crowd to fall quiet, exhaling into the microphone. Your gaze finds his hands, tight on the stem and you cannot stop picturing those hands elsewhere. On your body, your hair, your – gaze darting sideways, you see Jungkook. He stands at the edge of the stage, barking orders into a headset and gesturing into the crowd. You cannot hear what he says but he seems pissed – you have no time to wonder why, since Cindy tugs on your arm.

Aaron is in the middle of his goodbyes, blowing kisses to the crowd and when he exits, he glances again at the venue. Scanning the rows, he turns and when Aaron, the lead singer of Frontman, finds you – he winks. Then he is gone, ushered offstage and you are left standing in silent shock at the rail.

“I,” you say, unable to process. “What the... fuck just happened?”

All around you, the lights in the arena flicker on – people start to leave but you are locked in paralysis, hands wrapped around the cold metal of the railing. Cindy stares as well, open-mouthed in the direction of the wing Aaron exited.

“I – holy…” she chokes, trailing off into silence. “I guess the two of you are married now, huh?”

This breaks your confusion and you laugh, turning to smack Cindy on the arm. “Shut up,” you say, already leaving. “He just winked at me, that’s all – he probably does that to girls all the time. In every city.”

“Yeah, but not to you!” she counters. When you start to walk away, Cindy shrieks. “What are you doing?” she says, grabbing you quickly. “Where are you going? What if he comes back out? What if he sends a bodyguard to come gather the sexy babe at the front? You won’t be here!”

Rolling your eyes, you continue. “Yeah, because that would happen,” you say, reaching the base of the stairs. “Maybe pigs will fly, too– let’s just go, before the traffic gets bad.”

Exhaling loudly, Cindy reluctantly follows. When you pause to look back, you feel unsure what you are searching for. Aaron has not come out – although, oddly enough, this is not where your gaze travels first. Between the stage and the railing, there is no red shock of hair and exhaling gently, you turn towards the doors.

It takes you awhile to leave; even longer, to battle through traffic to Cindy’s place and then yours. Collapsing onto your bed after a shower, you cannot help but feel as if the whole day was a dream – even the colors of memory have faded, nothing but smoke on your clothes to remind you. Flicking through the feed of your Instagram, you decide you will upload the photos tomorrow. You are about to go to go to sleep when a notification appears.

It is from Cindy, tagging you in a shot from tonight – your fingers flick to her page, finding the two of you grinning like idiots before the front row. Unsurprisingly, the picture already has almost a thousand likes, because Cindy is something of a legend amongst the concert-hopping crowd. She goes to a lot of shows, tons of people follow her page and you send a like and comment before returning to yours.

Barely do five minutes go by before another notification chimes in your DMs. Somewhat confused, you sit up on your bed. The username is unfamiliar, their entire profile Private but you recognize the face from the small icon of the message. Clicking hastily on accept, you read the words of one Jeon Jungkook.

KookierThanThou: Hey, sorry if this seems weird – ignore me if it is. I just was scrolling through the concert hashtag and saw the photo of you and your friend. This is super awkward, because I don’t want to seem as though I’m telling you what to do... but I thought you should know that Aaron Gendry is kind of a dick. He makes a list of the girls each concert that he liked in the crowd and it’s the job of the bouncers to round them up at the end. He doesn’t use protection, either – just an FYI. I wanted you to know, before… yeah. I’m really sorry if this is inappropriate, again.

Staring down at the message, your thumbs touch the screen. You re-read the message once, twice, then several times over because on the one hand, he is right – this is inappropriate. You can sleep with whomever you want, even if they are kind of a sleaze; it is to be expected, really, from someone as famous as Aaron.

On the other hand – you did not know about the list and the bouncers. Nor did you know Aaron does not use protection and staring down at the message, you feel your stomach twist. That could have been you, you realize. If you had stayed, you could have been one of the girls ‘rounded up at the end,’ and reading the words in this context makes you feel slightly sick.

Lowering your fingers to the keyboard, you type back.

RageAgainstTheRegime: Hey. Thank you for sending me that message… I mean, not that I’m at his trailer, or anything. I didn’t stick around after the concert but thank you… for well, thinking of me. And thank you for sending this. That’s a lot of thanking lol but I appreciate it

It doesn’t take long before he types back.

KookierThanThou: Anytime.

That is it. Although you wait, staring at his words, he does not say anything more and you eventually exit the page. Turning to face the wall, you stare blankly before you manage to fall asleep. It is hard, since the events of today still race through your mind. Your ears still ring from the concert, from the adrenaline of the crowd and part of you is itching to send another message to Jungkook.

That would be dumb, though – he has already expressed how he feels. You were one of those girls standing in the front row and Jungkook saw right through your antics. It would be strange to reach out again. Lowering your face to the pillow, you somehow manage to sleep.

Cindy: Hey [4:10 PM]

Y/N: hey haha what’s up [4:15 PM]

Cindy: you’re going to love me [4:17 PM]

Y/N: oh, really? Why’s that? [4:18 PM]

Cindy: guess who [4:18 PM]

Cindy: has tickets [4:19 PM]

Cindy: for tomorrow’s …. POP UP FRONTMAN CONCERT!!! [4:19 PM]

Y/N: SHUT UP!!!! [4:20 PM]

Y/N: ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?! [4:20 PM]

Cindy: Y E S!!! [4:20 PM]

Cindy: you know that terrible family I used to baby-sit for? Well, their dad posted on Facebook his work gave him free tickets and I happened to see before anyone else reached out. They’re OURS! We’re GOING, Y/N! TOMORROW, 8PM! [4:22 PM]

Y/N: AHHHHHHHHH I LOVE YOU [4:32 PM]

Cindy: more than Aaron?? [4:33 PM]

Y/N: honestly yes, Aaron can suck my dick compared to my feelings for you [4:34 PM]

Cindy: wow, babe 😢 [4:34 PM]

Sitting back in your chair, you do a silent dance of celebration. The office is mostly dead at this time but still, you need to be quiet if you want to take off tomorrow. Because you will take off work in order to be front row again; mostly for Aaron, although Jungkook also pops into your mind. 

Which is silly. Ridiculous, really. You banish his presence.

This venue is smaller than the last, which makes you excited because it means a more intimate concert. The personal day you sent in was accepted with ease, prompting celebration on your behalf from Cindy 

(“Shots!” she declared, to which you countered, “No!”)

“Ugh,” Cindy groans, dropping her bag on the ground. “We’re getting too old for this, Y/N. Doing our make-up in line, changing clothes in the bathroom of Target. Nope. Next time, we buy VIP like real hoes.”

Snorting, you settle your butt to the pavement. “Sure,” you say, popping open your mirror. “With what money, though?”

“Good point.” Cindy exhales, lowering herself down beside you.

When they begin to let people in, you and Cindy find yourself at the front of the queue and – running inside – manage to wriggle your way to the front. “Holy shit,” you laugh, glancing around. “We’re so close, it’s unreal.”

“I know!” Cindy squeals, bouncing beside you. “This is perfect – this time, Aaron will definitely notice you.”

Nodding absent-mindedly, you cannot help but remember the message from Jungkook. It would be great if Aaron noticed you, sure. He is amazing – you read his interview in Rolling Stone twenty times over, memorized and loved each word that he said. His lyrics are so inspired, their meaning insightful in a way you cannot help but relate to. It is difficult to reconcile that Aaron, the artist with Aaron, the fuckboy.

Thinking about Jungkook makes you glance around the venue but there are only a few staff members in sight and he is not among them. Leaning onto the rail, you peer up and down the sides of the stage. Cindy chats with someone at your side, not paying attention – meaning, you know it is not her when someone taps you on the shoulder.

Jungkook waves at you when you turn, one hand in his pocket. “Hey.”

He is dressed similarly to last time, although this time he has layered a leather jacket over his t-shirt. He quirks a brow when you stare, hair somehow redder than before.

“It is natural?” you say, glancing upwards. People trickle in from all sides, pressing you closer but Jungkook does not step away.

“Yep,” he says. “My mother has red hair and my father has pink, so when they made me – voila! This happened. You like?”

When he bends his head, you almost mechanically lift a hand to his hair. The strands of it are soft, supple as you push your hand backwards. Nearly forgetting yourself, you brush the base of his scalp and Jungkook stills under your hand, seeing to forget his place as well.

Quickly, you pull your hand back. “Yeah,” you murmur, barely audible over the crowd. “I like it.”

He looks up at you, gaze darker than before. All banter is momentarily forgotten, until his headpiece crackles around his neck. “Yeah?” Jungkook jumps, turning around.

Slinking back, your thoughts are tinged with panic because now, the truth is staring you smack in the face – you are into this guy. You are big, fat into him – the kind of interest which can move mountains or, at least, move you closer to the railing. The start of the show cannot be far off but oddly enough, you do not feel as excited. No matter how dreamy and enticing the idea of Aaron might be – he is not real.

Not in the way you want him to be, anyways. You have this vision of Aaron in your mind – you, standing in the wings every night, him glancing over as he sings (because of course, you are the only person he cares about) and then him taking you to his room and fucking you senseless before you fall asleep. The vision is romantic, inspired, set to the tune of his music. The daydream is all the more romantic because of the lyrics he writes, the songs that he sings and the adoring fans he turns down because he is so madly in love.

It is only a vision, though – that is both the beauty and drawback of dreams. They are shiny, lovely things to look at but tend to turn transparent when put in the light. Real life – real love – is far more complicated, but far more fulfilling, once you are past its pitfalls. Looking at Jungkook, you realize he is much more solid than Aaron.

Noticing your stare, he pulls a face. “Do I have something in my teeth?” he asks, clicking off his headset. “No – on my face, then? Is my hair somehow less red than before?”

“Well, definitely not the last one,” you say, leaning an elbow to the railing. “You look like a tomato perched on top of a leather jacket.”

Jungkook bites down on his lip, stifling a grin. “Let’s not tell lies, Y/N,” he snorts. “Hey – you! Hey, hi, hello,” he nods, waving at Cindy over your shoulder.

Cindy looks up, glancing between the two of you. “Hey!” she says, taking a step closer. As she approaches the rail, you remember the clothing she wears.

A top cut even lower than yours with the words, BITE ME, I LIKE IT, emblazoned in red on the front. Her skirt is high-waisted, cut just below the ass and when she bends over the rail, her smile is dazzling. To his credit, Jungkook barely blinks.

Cocking a brow, he returns to looking at you. “Y/N,” he says, “thinks my hair looks bad. What’s your opinion?”

Cindy’s brows shoot up. “Are you crazy?” she asks. “Y/N, this guy is smoking hot – his hair is to die for. You keep doing you, bb,” she nods, shooting Jungkook with finger guns before turning away. Cindy resumes conversation with the tall, tattooed dude at the rail and you look over at Jungkook.

You cannot help but stare. Cindy is gorgeous – so the fact that Jungkook simply ignored this fact is amazing. 

“See?” he says, smugly folding both arms over his chest. “My hair is to die for.”

Exhaling, you roll your eyes. “I imagine people have died for tomatoes before.”

The corner of his lip quirks. “I’d like to hear that story.”

When you open your mouth to respond, someone bangs into you from behind. You lurch suddenly towards the railing, déjà vu plaguing your thoughts. Jungkook moves fast, grabbing your arms to steady your fall. He is close, so close that you now know he smells like leather and mint, due to the gum he is chewing.

He freezes there, fingers gripping your arms. “I, uh – I’m sorry.” Jungkook shakes his head, stepping away.

Warm air rushes between you, the noise of the venue growing steadily louder. It buzzes in your ears, blood pounding in your veins due to the proximity to him. It is not just that he is gorgeous, although he is – there is something more here, something almost electric between you.

“Thanks,” you say softly. 

Jungkook seems surprised. “Thanks, for what?”

“For the message you sent,” you clarify, feeling oddly shy standing before him. Though you have no idea of the time, the concert must be starting soon – the pitch of the crowd has heightened, taking on that urgent, feverish tone. “Thank you for the warning. Most people wouldn’t have done that.”

Jungkook’s cheeks flush. “Yeah,” he says, lowering his voice. “I’m sorry if that was weird, or whatever. I didn’t mean to intrude, but… I don’t know. You seem nice and he’s, well – he’s not.”

“I seem nice?” you say, smile tugging at your lips. The way Jungkook reacts, poking his cheek hard with his tongue, makes you grin. “Is that what you think? What if I’m not?”

When Jungkook swallows, his grip tightens on the rail. He looks swiftly away, red hair falling into his gaze. It makes you want to feel it again, push it back from his face – you imagine tugging this between your fingers, crushing those full lips to yours.

It seems Jungkook thinks the same thing, based on the way his gaze drops to your lips. “I’d ask you to prove it,” Jungkook says, hoarse. “You seem pretty damn nice to me.”

Before you can speak, Jungkook steps even closer. His lips brush your ear, making you shiver. “You seem like the kind who sneaks out not because they can’t leave, but because they don’t want to wake anyone up.” His smile curves, breath brushing over your cheek. “You put up a good front but at the end of the night, after you’ve been fucked, you just want someone lying beside you.”

Breath catching, your gaze darts to his. “Like you’re so different?” you say, barely able to hear yourself over the music. “You think not caring makes someone bad? Please,” you scoff, not looking away. “That’s the most cliche bad in the book. I’m bored just thinking about it.”

Rather than disagree with you, Jungkook just smiles. “Hm.”

“And besides,” you say, nodding up to the stage. “You know I’m no saint. You know I came here, am standing here because I wanted to be fucked by him.”

Jungkook’s gaze darkens. “Wanted?” he says carefully. “Past tense?”

You do not look away. “Maybe there’s someone else I’m more interested in now. Maybe there’s someone else I want to, how did you put it?” Leaning forward, your lips brush his cheek. “Fuck me like hell.”

Jungkook’s throat bobs when he swallows. “Shit,” he mutters beneath his breath. Before he can reply, the lights go out around you.

The entire venue erupts, people screaming and pushing you forward. By the time the lights blaze back on, you find yourself far way from the rail. Jungkook is not longer paying attention, expression is frantic as he barks orders to no one. Turning around, he seems consumed by his job – until your gaze finds his pants, lips parting at the way he walks. Stiffly, tightly, hiding an obvious bulge.

Before you can linger, Cindy grabs hold of your shoulder. “Y/N!” she screams. “I CAN SEE THEM IN THE WINGS!”

Turning around, you attempt to scream with the crowd but everything about this seems less exciting than before – your gaze keeps darting sideways to the small amount of space between the rail and the stage. Jungkook keeps looking at you, as well – the amount of times your gazes meet is borderline obscene. Definitely noticeable, if anyone else were to look.

It is midway through the concert when the thing happens again – Aaron is singing his heart out, one of your favorites and when his gaze searches the crowd, he spots you. Lingering on your face, his lips lift in a smile and although he is undeniably handsome, your body does not tingle the same way as before. Instead, you find yourself glancing at the other thousands of doe-eyed girls looking at him. Aaron must be used to that; he must be fine with girls throwing themselves at his feet and, with a small shiver of disgust, you look away.

Aaron moves on, a tiny crease in his brow and when his gaze slides to your left, he finds Cindy. She gasps, clutching your arm to shriek in excitement. You join in because it is exciting – just not as exciting as Jungkook, biting his lip and scanning the crowd. Fuck, he does not seem to realize how hot he is – which makes sense, given that 99% of the individuals here tonight are here to bone the lead singer.

You are the only one looking at him and when his gaze drifts to you, he sees. Jungkook stares, the air burning between you and it is hard not to think about what he said earlier. Hard not to think about his reaction when you mentioned wanting to be fucked.

The rest of the concert passes in a haze of neon lights and dark crowds. When the last song is over, Cindy turns to you with a sigh. “I miss them already,” she whines, draping herself over the rail. “When will they come back?”

Trying not to laugh, you nudge her. “I know, I know – but hey! Aaron looked at you, remember?”

Cindy instantly perks up. “You saw that, too? I’m not crazy!”

“No,” you say, starting to leave. “You’re not crazy.”

When she starts to break down the details, you glance over your shoulder – it is more than a little disappointing to find Jungkook nowhere in sight. You wanted to give him your number, or at least say goodbye but it appears this was a one-sided desire. Facing Cindy again, you suddenly key in on what she has been saying.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you say, holding up both hands. “You want to go where? With who?”

“The Bar!” she cries out, clapping her hands. “It’s that place right outside the stadium – Jeff texted me he’s heading there with friends. I don’t want to go home, yet, Y/N – don’t make me go home!”

She looks so sad, lower lip protruding that you cannot help but laugh. “Ah, shit.” Groaning, you glance down at your phone. “I don’t know, Cindy. It’s late and I just kind of want to go back.”

“I can take you there, if you want.”

Head snapping up, you watch as (like something from a dream) Jungkook steps into view. He seems more normal now, with his earpiece removed and hands stuffed in his jacket. There is writing on the back, you realize. Something about punk not being dead – but this is of little importance, when compared to his offer.

Cindy looks triumphantly at you. “See!” she says. “This is perfect. I can meet Jeff and the others while sexy sound boy takes you home.”

Your mouth drops, appalled because Cindy does not even know Jungkook – she just wants to party.

“Uh, Jungkook,” he says, arching a brow. “I’ll also answer to sexy sound boy, though. It’s cool.”

Cindy squints up at him. “You’re not a psychopath, are you, sexy sound boy? Or a murderer? Or a drunk? Or high on any sort of drugs – legal, or otherwise?”

Jungkook appears to fight back a smile. “Nope, to all of the above.”

“Right, then!” Cindy claps both hands together. “I’ll be off and Y/N – maybe take a cab,” she says, looking dubiously at Jungkook. “Sexy sound guy sounds super boring.”

With that, she is gone – disappeared into the crowd and leaving you gaping behind her. Tomorrow, you two will have some words because your concept of safety differs wildly from hers. Clearing his throat, Jungkook brings your gaze back to his.

“You don’t have to say yes,” he says. “I totally get it if you don’t want to ride with a stranger. I just thought – I don’t know, it would be nice to get to know you.”

Jungkook pauses, finger running over the hoops in one ear. He seems nervous and in the end, this is what convinces you.

Before you can change your mind, you begin to walk up the stairs. “Just a ride,” you caution. “I assume you’re parked in the staff parking lot, and I don’t want to deal with the traffic.”

Jungkook nods, following silently and not contradicting your statement. As you leave the venue, the noise lessens until the only audible sounds are your footsteps, distant traffic and the fading yelling of people. Jungkook walks casually alongside you, both hands in his pockets while you sneak glances at his profile.

He really is gorgeous – which is strange, when paired with the way that he acts. He has this blunt, almost caustic edge laid over genuinely good intentions. It is a combination almost too good to be true, which is why you come to a stop on the other side of his navy-blue Camaro.

“Hey,” you say, laying both arms on the roof. “Tell me something about yourself that kind of sucks.”

Jungkook pauses while opening his door. “I’m sorry – what?”

“You know.” Casually, you wave a hand. “Tell me something you’re bad at, or some fault that you have because right now, you seem almost perfect and I’m kind of concerned.”

“Uh.” Jungkook smiles, clearly holding back laughter. “What if that’s my fault? Everything I do is too perfect, it’s a burden.”

“Pass,” you sigh, shutting his door.

When you move towards the building, Jungkook’s laugh rings out from behind you. “Okay, okay!” he says, grabbing your arm.

Coming to a stop, you let him turn you to face him. “Yes?” you ask, eyes dancing.

Staring at him, the electricity between you is palpable. This, you will admit, is part of the reason you stand here. Jungkook makes you curious, since this is something you have not experienced before – you have never been so aware of another person, never wanted another person’s hands on your body so badly.

“Communication,” he blurts, only to wince. “I’m that guy in the group chat who never texts back. You know, the one who sees a message, tells himself he’ll respond and then doesn’t. I hate one-on-one conversation because it makes me uncomfortable – unless I know the person. I – yeah.”

“Hm,” you say, glancing down at his hand on your arm. “Okay, makes sense.”

“Okay?” Jungkook says, eyebrows shooting up.

“Yeah,” you nod. “That was honest. Previous responses I’ve gotten include, ‘my dick is too big,’ and, ‘people say they climax too much when they’re with me.’ Your comment was Shakespearian compared to them.”

“… Who?”

“Lord. Don’t make me hurt you.”

Jungkook laughs, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket. There on his forearm is a tiny line of text. “Super violent, super aggressive,” he says. “I don’t think any harm will be necessary.”

Leaning forward, you read the words of his tattoo.

These violent delights have violent ends and, in their triumph die like fire which, as they kiss, consume.

Staring down at the stark ink, you swallow. “Why that line?”

“I liked it.” Jungkook shrugs, tugging his jacket back down. “Thought it sounded badass, you know. Plus – it’s fun to tell people it’s a lyric of Frontman and see how they react.”

With that, he turns towards his car and leaves you staring after him. You cannot help it; you laugh. “How do people usually respond?” you say, lowering yourself into his passenger seat.

Jungkook smiles, switching into reverse. “They normally agree with me,” he says. “They say it’s one of their favorites lyrics – and then I silently judge them for the rest of the concert. Kids today,” he tuts, shaking his head. “Not knowing classic literature.”

Trying hard not to laugh, you lean your head to the seat. “Seems kind of rude,” you say. “To lead them astray like that.”

“Maybe.” Jungkook shrugs. “I happen to think it’s ruder to pretend you know something you don’t. No one is omniscient – better to say you don’t know, than spread wrong information.”

Opening an eye, you survey his profile. Lights from the highway flick over his features, casting him in alternating illumination and shadow. “I agree,” you say softly. “10 S Maple Ave.”

“Huh?” Jungkook looks over.

“My address,” you remind, lifting a brow. “It’s 10 S Maple Ave. – do you know where that is?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods, switching lanes. “That’s not too far from my place.”

Hearing him say this, you sit up in your seat. “Your place?” you repeat, confused. “You live around here? I thought... you were a part of Frontman’s crew?”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “I am,” Jungkook says. “Kind of. Whenever Frontman’s in town, I like to manage their performance myself but more accurately, I’m their lead sound engineer.” He grins. “Aaron and I go way back.”

Staring at him, your mouth drops a little. “That seems like a crucial bit of information to leave out.”

“Oh.” Jungkook pauses, then shrugs. “Well, add that to the list of flaws, I guess.”

“Great. I’m also adding you’re kind of a dick.”

Jungkook laughs, choking on the sound. “You can insult me however you like, I can take it.”

“Oh, really?” you say, curling your legs higher to face him. “And why is that?”

Smirking, his gaze flicks to yours. “Each insult you give just makes me want to wipe that smirk from your face even more. Makes me want to hear my name moaned even louder.”

Mouth turning suddenly dry, your fingers grip the edge of his seat. “That… you…”

“Yes?” he says calmly, tilting his head.

Having no response, you face forward. Far be it from you to acknowledge the sudden heat in your veins, the way his look makes you want to pull over the car. “We’ll see about that,” you mutter, staring out at the road.

Jungkook exhales, continuing to drive and although your conversation continues, it is only surface-deep. He asks you a question, you answer and vice versa, while in the back of your mind, there is only one thing you think about. Fucking him every way imaginable – in the kitchen, on your sofa, in the shower. Jungkook taking you hard from behind, his fingers digging into your ass. Maybe once or twice with him on top, powerful thighs thrusting into you with ease. Already you know you are wet and Jungkook has not even touched you yet, has not even kissed you.  

You are so busy thinking about him, you barely notice the moment you arrive. Jungkook parks on the street beside your building, background music still playing, soft on the stereo. When you glance sideways at him, he is already looking your way.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, even though you both know the night is not over.

His grip tightens on the steering wheel, then releases. “Not a problem. I hope you get in safely.”

“Oh,” you say, glancing over his shoulder. “To be honest… the guy who lives next door is kind of a creep. I wouldn’t mind if you walked me to my apartment?”

“Sure.” Jungkook nods, turning off the car. “That seems like a good idea. Whatever you want.”

Unbuckling your seat belt, you exit – Jungkook follows, locking the car behind him. “Better to be safe,” he explains, holding open the door to your lobby. “I won’t be gone for long, but you never know.”

“Of course,” you say. Grabbing his hand, you step into the elevator. “Just in case.”

Jungkook’s fingers trail your wrist, sending sparks down your spine. “You should probably stand closer,” he murmurs when the elevator starts to rise. “Just as a precaution.”

“Mm,” you agree as Jungkook steps forward, hovering before you. His hands slide down your sides, your back hitting the elevator. “How sensible.”

Jungkook inhales, bending his nose to trace from neck to jaw. “Sensible – my middle name,” he murmurs, lips stopping at yours.

“I thought your middle name was fucking,” you say, hips pressing upwards. “Jung-fucking-kook.”

“If you want it to be,” he agrees, opening your lips with his own.

His kiss is hot, bruising while your mouths move roughly together. Jungkook’s hand digs into your hip, the weight of his body heavy and you cannot help but moan when his leg pushes between yours. Arms finding his neck, you press yourself closer – Jungkook tastes like the gum he was chewing, although this dissolves in your mouth the longer you kiss.

When the elevator dings, you do not want him to stop. Breaking out of his grasp, you struggle to catch your breath before pulling him into the hall. “This way,” you say, adjusting your top. “I think I’d feel better if you... checked out my place.”

Jungkook chuckles, coming up from behind to kiss the nape of your neck. You pause at your door, fumbling with the keys because Jungkook’s arms are already around you. His lips are hot on your throat, hands soft on your hips and your eyes keep fluttering, losing yourself in his touch.

“Jungkook,” you croak, nearly unrecognizable. “Please… I have to get open the door.”

He lets go, taking a step backwards but just one look at his face shows he is as affected as you. Jungkook’s breathing deepens, gaze dark while you shove the door open. Barely do you make it inside before he shuts the door and you are finally alone.

“Come here,” Jungkook growls, pushing you against the frame. He kisses you rough and you respond to him in kind. Your purse hits the floor, biting down on his lip. Jungkook’s breath hitches, making a mad scramble for the hem of his t-shirt.

Grabbing your wrists in one hand, he yanks these above you and pins your back to the door. Jungkook kisses your neck as you shiver, his other hand drifting towards the front of your jeans. He stays there for a moment – his lips painfully teasing while he holds you taut to the wall.

“Jungkook,” you moan, into his mouth. “I want to touch you.”

“Do you?” he says, hand grazing the curve of your breast. His thumb flicks a nipple, making you squirm. “How bad?”

“Bad,” you gasp, head hitting the door while he sucks a bruise to your neck. “I couldn’t stop thinking about fucking you all night.”

Keeping your hands overhead, Jungkook lowers his thumb and traces your wrist. “You couldn’t?” he murmurs. “What did you think about?”

“Everything,” you confess, barely over a whisper. “Your dick in my mouth, your head between my legs, you fucking me sideways – bent over, on top, below me. Any way and every way, God.”

Jungkook hisses, the noise painful. “Shit,” he mutters. “I wanted to tease you more, wanted to see you beg underneath me but…” With a whine, he grabs your wrist to lower your hand to his pants. “You’re so fucking hot, I’m practically bursting.”

Eyes wide, you trace over his bulge – Jungkook was not kidding when he said he was hard. Pushing his hips forward, you feel the clear outline of his dick and when you swallow, Jungkook brings his thumb to your lips.

“Suck,” he commands, and you obediently open.

Lips closing around him, you start at the base of his finger. Hollowing your cheeks, you pull back until he stares at you in awe. You repeat this, adding tongue until Jungkook groans, imagining the same on his cock. Free hand finding his belt, he unbuckles this quickly and lets it fall to the ground.

Before he can utter a word, you drop to your knees. Staring up at him, you spread your legs slowly. There are some who do not like to suck dick, feeling it allows for little attention while they do so. You feel exactly the opposite. The sight of a guy undone by your touch; turned in to a needy, whimpering mess – for you, this is more of a turn-on than most guys eating you out.

Jungkook’s eyes widen when he sees you on your knees. Keeping his gaze, you tug his jeans to the floor. Jungkook is left in only his underwear, those powerful thighs concealed from your view – it seems wrong to keep them hidden and so, you gently pull his underwear to the ground. Inch by inch, Jungkook’s cock is revealed and when he stands naked before you, you sit back.

He is incredibly turned on – if that was not obvious from the way he keeps licking his lips, hair messy and ragged from his hands running through it – it is clear by the thick shaft of his cock, erect from his hips. You stare for a moment, gaze tracing over his veins, his tip hardened and red. When you bend to lick upwards, Jungkook barely is able to stifle his moan.

Closing your mouth over the tip, you gently add your hands. Jungkook groans even louder, eyes fluttering shut when your hands slide even lower, stroking him fast while your mouth sucks him off.

“Shit,” he exhales, sounding a little unsteady. “Y/N, god.”

Emboldened, you suck harder. Lowering a hand to his balls, you run your fingers over him gently, pulling him closer to deep-throat at the same time. The combination is overwhelming, you can tell by his expression – eyes scrunched up in pleasure, roughened moans on his lips. Jungkook reaches suddenly down, grasping your hair. When he pulls your head forward, you try not to gag.

“Look at me,” he gasps. When you do, Jungkook inhales at the way your eyes water. Gaze narrowing, his thighs flex as he fucks your mouth. “You look so pretty like that,” he murmurs. “Taking all of my cock. Can you fit more, baby?”

Moaning in approval, you let him feel the vibrations while you relax your throat. Jungkook’s expression turns to bliss and his hips stutter for a moment before he regains his motion.

“Shit,” he exhales, thrusting harder. “You’re so good, Y/N… so fucking good, holy – I’m going to come, ah!” With a gasp, he withdraws his cock from your mouth. Exhaling deeply, Jungkook’s chest rises and falls while you sit back on your heels.

“What’s wrong?” you say, innocent from your place on your knees.

Jungkook opens his eyes, staring at you swollen lips and spread legs. “Get up,” he rasps. “Take off those clothes.”

Standing slowly, you tilt your head sideways. “No,” you say, smug. “Undress me.”

Jungkook pauses a moment before moving, striding fast to your side. Pulling you forward, into a kiss, he makes you to feel every inch of him. Cock digging into your stomach, his fingers slide into your hair and when he is done with your mouth, he breaks free. Jungkook’s hands find your shirt, lifting the material overhead to drop down on the floor.

His fingers slide beneath your jeans’ waistband – you did not wear fishnets tonight, opting for less complicated clothing. Jungkook undoes first one button, then the next until your jeans are shoved down to the floor. Kneeling, he presses a kiss to your panties.

He hovers for a moment, breathing in your arousal and you whimper at the sight, nearly breaking control. Gaze flicking upwards, Jungkook meets your own. “Are you already this wet?” he murmurs, slipping a finger between your legs. He strokes over your underwear. “Just from sucking me off?”

“Yes,” you whisper, watching him stand.

Jungkook does not respond, leaning forward to open your mouth with a kiss. His hands slide down your body, gripping your ass and grinding his hips against yours. You give in, arms curving about him while Jungkook undoes your bra with one hand. The straps are quickly shrugged off, leaving you mostly naked against him.

Jungkook bites down on your ear. “Where do you want me to fuck you?” he pants, fingers pushing your panties aside. He slides in a single digit, making you gasp – you stand halfway on tip-toe while he finger-fucks you in your living room.

“I,” you groan, tipping your head back. “I don’t care – I just want you to fuck me.”

Jungkook chuckles, sucking rough against your throat. “Just once?” he teases, curling his finger inside, then adding another. His thumb brushes your clit and you whimper, grabbing hold of his biceps to keep from coming undone.

Normally, it would take much more than this to get you off. There is something about him, though – the night, the build-up and Jungkook’s lips and his fingers. It all hits in just the right way. “Oh,” you gasp, when his thumb circles the hood of your clit. Biting down on your lip, you bury your face in his shoulder.

Jungkook’s chuckle vibrates your body. “I want to fuck you more than once tonight,” he says quietly. “In each way imaginable. I want to spread you out on your bed and lick your pussy until you scream – but that may have to wait until the second time, because I’m fucking dying to be inside you.”

“Oh?” you groan, too concentrated on the feeling of his fingers inside your soaked cunt.

“Mm,” Jungkook nods, continuing his torturous motion. “I might come just standing in front of you – that’s how hard I am. Y/N,” he groans, pleading. “Please let me fuck you.”

Already, your body is tightening, clenched around the length of his fingers and you nod, jerking your head towards the door. “Let me get a condom,” you say, while Jungkook withdraws from your body.

He nods, bringing his hand to his mouth and you watch, jaw slackening, as he licks his fingers clean of your juices. 

“Hurry,” Jungkook exhales, his gaze dark.

The sight leaves you weak, body trembling as you disappear into the bathroom. When you emerge with a condom, you fairly fling it his way. “Put that on,” you demand, shimmying free of your panties. “I want to be fucked by you from behind, over the armrest of this couch.”

Jungkook stares at you a moment, before coming to his senses and ripping open the packet. He is at your side within seconds, pulling you forward – he does not turn you around just yet, opening your mouth against his in a heated kiss.

“Shit,” Jungkook groans, playing with your nipple between you. “I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my life. I swear to god, Y/N... what are you doing to me?”

“I don’t know,” you groan, because you do not – you have no idea what this is, nor why he feels like an addiction. Wildfire spreads through your veins and you only know that you want him, and want him now.  

Jungkook nods, turning you around. When he spreads your legs to either side, you inhale. His cock teases, brushing over you for a moment – he trails a slick path from your clit to cunt several times. He does this again, until you whimper against him and then he grabs for your hips, pushing inside.

You gasp, chest hitting the couch as your hands scramble for purchase. Jungkook groans, unmoving and stays like that for a moment, cock buried inside you. He is so large, stretching you in the best way possible and when he withdraws from you halfway, you whimper in protest.

Chuckling, Jungkook’s hands smooth your back. “What?” he asks, kissing your neck while he slowly pushes back in. “Is that better?” he murmurs, hips rolling against you. “Do you feel better like that, full of my cock?”

Nodding, your fingers clench around nothing because fuck, you have never felt like this before – never been so turned on, so aware of your partner. Jungkook seems to slip in and out, that is how wet you are for him and rather than be turned off by this, Jungkook hisses in pleasure.

“I can’t take how fucking drenched you are,” he murmurs, fingers spreading your arousal. “You feel so fucking good. I’m about to cum right now, inside you.”

“Do it,” you moan, arching your back while he fucks you. “I want you to cum, baby – please, I can’t take it much longer.”

Jungkook speeds up, hips moving faster. Your legs somewhat collapse, knees hitting the couch. Now it is only Jungkook’s hands holding you up, pulling you onto him with each thrust of his hips – he fucks into you roughly, letting the couch brush over your clit.

“Shit,” you gasp, knowing he will leave bruises but not caring in the slightest. Nothing matters besides his cock hitting deep, your entire body clenching with each stroke and when he makes a strangled moan of your name, it is too much. “Fuck!” you cry, pushing your hips backwards. “Please, Jungkook – oh! I’m going to come, I can’t, I – Jungkook!”

With a final groan, you let go – waves of pleasure crashing around you. Jungkook makes a choked noise of approval, feeling you come. He keeps going, fucking you through your orgasm until he gasps out your name and releases as well. 

Dazed and fucked out, you simply lay there like that – Jungkook’s chest rises and falls, pressed to your back before placing a soft kiss to your spine and slowly withdrawing.

Exhaling shakily, you move to sit on the sofa – feeling suddenly self-conscious, you grab a pillow before you. Jungkook removes his condom to tie in a knot, tossing this into the garbage and glancing at you.

“Why’re you so far away?” he asks, noticing your expression. Walking closer, he smooths a hand through his hair that does nothing to fix it.

Shrugging, you hold the pillow tighter. “I – I wasn’t sure, if…”

Jungkook expression softens. “I...” He exhales, almost hesitant. “I was hoping you wanted someone to lie beside you tonight?”

Cheeks heating, you stare. “I – only if that person wanted to, that is.”

“I want to.” Jungkook moves closer. Lowering one knee to the sofa, he brushes your lips with his. “If you want me, too.”

Pillow falling, you reach up to kiss him – properly, tongue and all. “I’d like that,” you whisper, grinning when his forehead drops to your own. “Besides, didn’t you say something about a second time…?”

Jungkook’s answering smile is wicked. “And a third and a fourth,” he agrees, standing up from the couch. “Might want to go get some Gatorade, it’s going to be a long night.”

“Hm. Isn’t that a Frontman lyric?”

Jungkook pauses in the door to your bedroom, scowling over his shoulder. “Give me ten more minutes to get hard, and I’ll wipe that name from your lips.”

Giggling at his petulance, you scramble up from the couch. “You should send that to Aaron,” you nod, brushing past. “As a song title idea.”

“That’s it!”

Squealing, you dart past when Jungkook makes a grab for your waist and, tumbling into bed, you grin at him from the covers. Jungkook flips you off, walking into your bathroom and you laugh out loud, unable to help it.

It is hard not to consider what he said on your couch. Honestly, you have no idea what this is, either – but it sure as hell is something. Something much, much better than bedding the lead singer of Frontman.

© kpopfanfictrash, 2018. Do not copy or repost without permission.

#noonanet #kwriterskollection #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts writing #jungkook writing #jungkook humor #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts humor #jungkook #bts #jeon jungkook

[keeroo92]

Crimson Tide Ch9

Chapter Nine - Answers

---Trish---

She felt it the moment she crossed; the pull.

It niggled at her, an itch she refused to scratch no matter how insistent it became. To do so would mean her death, and there was still so much she had to do. She would not surrender, not now and not ever. If Mundus couldn’t kill her, neither would this. It was an annoyance, not worth thinking about.

At least, that’s what Trish told herself.

Only you and V seemed to notice anything was off, but even that much irritated her. She didn’t like others seeing her weakness. It made her blood boil to imagine anyone pitying her. She was strong, capable and completely fine on her own. She didn’t need anybody and never would.

Even so, her heart sank to find no recent traces of Dante and Nero.

She hadn’t expected the mission to be easy, but it would’ve been a nice change.

She sighed and tilted her hips, taking a closer look at the bloodstain marring the colorful ground. Demonic, thankfully. A few months old if she had to guess. Same as the other stains she’d found so far.

She huffed and turned back to you. “Nothing new here, demon blood from about two months ago.”

You grimaced. Trish wished she had better news. The team had been here for three days now, based on the clock in Nico’s van. After the initial arrival, they headed down to the remains of the Qlipoth to begin the search. It didn’t look like much, just a massive stretch of colorless rubble. Hidden between two chunks, Lady found boot prints. Dante’s, judging by the size. Lady was ecstatic, grinning more than she had in weeks back home.

I wonder if she’s admitted to herself she loves him yet?

Unlikely. Lady was a master at self-deception. Ironic, considering her ability to sniff out secrets in others, or to discover plots meant to kill them all.

They set out in the same direction, following the trail until it vanished in a sea of purple grass. The pull strengthened with every step but she shoved it aside, focusing all her energy on tracking. Not her strong suit. They circled the area for hours, frustration mounting by the minute as time dragged on. She was about to suggest simply continuing in the same direction a bit longer when Nico spotted the familiar pattern in the dust.

That was when she noticed the tense silence between you and V. The normal banter and affectionate touches were gone, replaced with scowls and crossed arms. It was ridiculous, hardly the time for a lovers’ spat. Hopefully you’d talk to Kyrie or Nico about it and everything would return to normal. A tiff was the least of the troubles plaguing the group and she despised the fact that it was drawing your focus.

We can’t afford to get distracted.

When you pulled her aside a few hours later to chat, she almost choked. It didn’t even cross her mind that you might approach her. She covered her surprise with a cough and followed you away from the group, mentally cursing her luck. Why would you come to her, of all people? She’d never even been in love! Literally any other person here had more direct experience with whatever was going on between you and the thrice damned poet.

What a waste of time.

She glanced at you with a neutral expression. You were fidgeting, worry written across your face as you followed her through a field of florescent flowers. It was tempting to shout at you, but she bit her tongue and waited instead.

“So, uh, V and I had a fight,” you began. She almost laughed.

“I gathered.”

You leaned down to pick a flower, holding it out to Trish for assessment. An orange blossom with red spots. She recognized it instantly as a fire pansy and nodded. Safe to consume. You popped it in your mouth as the two of you trod on.

“He wanted me to stay behind,” you said after a pause.

Ah. So that’s what happened. Trish took a moment to process, working through her own thoughts on the matter. She’d spent hours training you every day for months, honing your skills until you could beat her if she was having an off day. It made sense that he wanted to keep you safe at home, keep you out of danger, but you weren’t helpless. She honestly found it slightly insulting, taking it as a slight against her mentorship.

She took a deep breath and wrangled her irritation. Indulging that line of thought would do her no favors.

“Idiot. You might be more useful in a fight than he is now, if he didn’t use Nightmare.”

You grinned and sucked on the petals.

“Well, I think he was more worried about the noises I kept hearing and the pain in my head,” you replied thoughtfully.

The blonde furrowed her brow. She’d seen you collapse and rub at your temples, and you definitely seemed out of it on the ride over. It was unlikely you had the gift, but if the shoe fit…

“Yeah, V mentioned something about that on the way. What’s the sound like?”

“A hum, like a bumblebee. It gets worse every time I hear it.”

She hid her shock behind a mask of understanding, taking another few steps before asking her next question. “Did it coincide with the portals opening?”

You froze, wide eyed. “How did you know that?”

Trish almost groaned. This could be bad, really bad. But she needed to be sure. “Have you had any visions? Any flashes of things you that weren’t really there?”

You stared at her, gaping like a fish. She resisted the urge to stick a finger in your mouth and waited.

“Yeah, a burst of light and color on the way to the portal. It was too fast to see anything, though.”

Trish reeled back as if you slapped her.

Fuck, how in the Hell?!

It made no sense; you didn’t have a drop of demon blood in you. She’d know if you did. How the Hell did you have demon powers?

“What is it, what’s wrong with me?”

You sounded terrified and Trish couldn’t help but cringe at the alarm in your eyes. This was insane, it didn’t make any sense. There was no logical reason for you to have the gift, none whatsoever. She sent a pulse of demonic energy at you, just to be sure, but there was nothing. Not a drop.

So how did this happen? Could it be something else?

Don’t jump to conclusions. Think it through.

She had to be wrong. The gift manifested at birth, why would it only start happening now? Even before the Qlipoth, portals popped up on a regular basis. You would’ve felt it years ago as a child. So, either it was something else, or something had changed.

It had to be something else. There had never been a human with the gift, only demons. If you had it, it flew against everything she knew was true. She couldn’t accept it, not without solid proof. Too much was at stake to make unverified claims.

She swallowed her turmoil and licked her lips. “I’m not sure. Tell me if it happens again, I want all the details.”

You deflated, disappointed at her lack of a clear answer. She wished she could offer some reassurance, but she couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Okay,” you agreed softly. “What about V?”

Trish sighed. His concerns made more sense with the new information, but even so.

“He meant well, but I agree with you. It isn’t a choice he gets to make for you. It’s probably a good sign that he told you about it, though.”

You spat out the spent petals and grimaced at the aftertaste. “It’s not even about that. I get where he’s coming from, but the way he told me was just… ugh!”

You threw your hands up in frustration, failing to find the words. This was exactly why Trish avoided interpersonal relationships. Eventually, somebody got hurt and regardless of the outcome, it was a distraction. Sex, she understood. Love? Not so much.

“Why come to me about this? Wouldn’t Kyrie be a better help?”

You flopped onto the ground, reaching for another flower to suck. The blonde joined you, crossing her long legs beneath her and waiting for an answer.

“You have a point, but everyone else seems so… stressed out? You’re the only one of us who has their shit together. Plus, you might just be the Queen of objectivity.”

Trish sighed and leaned back. The pull tugged at her mind, insisting on her surrender. If only you knew just how screwed up her shit was…

---V---

The poet watched you walk away with Trish and sighed. He could imagine what you were discussing. Truly, he couldn’t have handled it much worse, but he’d run out of time. It irked him, knowing that he upset you and hurt your feelings. It seemed like such an obvious conclusion at the time. You saved his life by forcing him to let you handle the problem; he simply wanted to do the same.

Yeah, you fucked that up Shakespeare.

As always, thank you for the input. How do I fix it?

How am I supposed to know? I’m a damn demon.

He rolled his eyes. Griffon had a point. So, who could he ask?

You were already talking to Trish. Lady didn’t trust him; she was out of the question. Nico would tease him, though she may have valuable insight afterwards. The mechanic often spotted things others missed.

What about Kyrie?

Come to think of it, she may be the best option. Her warm heart and caring nature made her an easy person to talk to and though he didn’t know her well, he found her easy to like. Considering all she’d been through with Nero and what she was doing now to save him, she’d probably understand his position better than anyone else.

Perfect.

Since you were off with Trish, the group was taking a break to rest and eat. The perfect opportunity. He stood and headed for the van.

Kyrie was inside stirring a skillet. It smelled incredible and reminded him of all the times he’d found you in the same position during the Qlipoth crisis. You didn���t cook as much lately and he missed it, missed sneaking up behind you and stealing a hug or making you laugh and swat at him with whatever kitchen implement you had on hand.

“Hi, V. Are you hungry?” Kyrie asked with a slight smile.

He cleared his throat. “Actually, I was wondering if I could get your advice?”

She gave him a genuine smile and turned down the heat, setting aside her spoon to face him directly. Her hand waved at the table in a gesture of invitation.

“Step into my office. It’s about Y/N, right?”

He glanced at her through his hair, a sheepish look on his face as he sat down and nodded.

“I noticed you two seemed off. What happened?”

“I… may have asked her to stay behind,” he confessed, fingers twitching in his lap. Griffon’s chortle of amusement did nothing to ease his nerves, nor Shadow’s roar. Nightmare, at least, had the grace to remain silent. Or the lack of interest.

Regardless.

“Oh… that explains a lot. Do you have any particular reasoning?”

“She’s ill, and we don’t know why or how bad it is.”

Kyrie nodded knowingly, picking up her spoon and stirring once more. “I can understand that. I felt the same thing when Nero lost his arm. And then he vanished from the hospital! I about had a heart attack.”

V cringed, remembering his visit to the man in question to recruit him to battle Urizen. He was the reason the young warrior left the hospital.

“Sorry about that…” he said.

She scoffed. “Water under the bridge.”

The poet grimaced. Would she still feel that way if they couldn’t bring Nero home? Even for such a gentle soul, forgiveness of that magnitude wouldn’t be easy.

“What’s going on with her? How bad is it?”

He leaned forward, bowing his head and hiding behind a curtain of black. “She’s been hearing things. Some kind of hum, and it causes her pain. It’s growing worse.”

Kyrie hummed and set down her spoon, turning to face him and peeking through his hair to meet his worried eyes. Her own were swimming with sympathy and understanding.

“That does sound bad. I won’t patronize you with empty reassurance, I know from experience how useless that is. I will, however, remind you of everything she’s already endured to get here. She’s stronger than you think, especially after training with Trish.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean the illness won’t overpower her, leave her exposed when it matters the most,” he replied. Images too terrible to ignore filled his mind of you falling to some nameless enemy. His heart twisted as he pictured your face, still in death.

“It might. Just as Nero could’ve died facing Urizen so soon after losing his arm. The stitches hadn’t even closed properly yet. But he went anyway, because that’s who he is.” Kyrie paused and stirred the skillet again, sending a fresh wave of the mouth-watering aroma swirling through the van. She turned back to him with a soft smile.

“It’s part of why I love him; he can’t stand idle when others are in trouble, especially those he cares about. She’s the same way. She wouldn’t be the woman you fell in love with otherwise, and no matter how much it hurts you can’t take that away from her. All you can do is be there when she needs you and hope for the best.”

“How can the bird that was born for joy sit in a cage and sing?” he recited, exhaling deeply and setting his hair aflutter.

“Exactly. And, just so you know, it always helps to be open. Loving someone isn’t always enough; you have to be a team, too.”

The poet lifted his head and met Kyrie’s eyes with a conflicted smile. He knew she was right; he wasn’t an imbecile. But it was difficult to accept outright. The urge to hide you away until no danger lurked tugged at him, warring with his respect and growing understanding.

And you still need to apologize.

He sighed. Where to even begin?

A resounding crash spoiled his thoughts. The van lurched from a sudden impact, throwing him from his seat and Kyrie to the floor with a yelp of surprise, the skillet thankfully spilling only on the stove top. Through the window he saw the horizon tilt as the vehicle lifted just long enough to send his prone body sliding across the floor before the weight settled back onto four tires.

We’re under attack!

“Kyrie, stay inside!” he cried, jumping to his feet and grasping his cane as adrenaline flooded his system. She nodded from her crouched pose and he ran, tattoos already swirling as he threw the door open.

Outside, Lady and Nico faced a trio of Antenora. They were fifty feet away and closing fast, mindlessly slashing toward the two women. The corpse of a Hell Bat lied beneath the window and he could only assume that was what hit the vehicle. The fresh dent in the faded yellow paint confirmed it and he brushed it aside to focus on the remaining threats.

The mechanic hurled a small object at the foes as Lady sprayed them with bullets, her face twisted in rage. V sent a pulse of energy through the bond and ebony shards lifted from his flesh in a storm, racing ahead of his sprinting feet to form Griffon and Shadow. He reached Nico just as her grenade detonated in a flash.

A cloud of silver fluid spewed from the tiny object to coat the three demons. Nico cheered as Shadow vaulted at the Antenora’s and shifted into a spiked wall, ripping at all three demons. Griffon flapped forward and a sphere of purple lightning crackled from his body.

“What a shock to see you ugly bastards here!” the bird cackled.

Nico lobbed another grenade into the fray. V’s eyes widened as it hovered a few feet over the demons and flashed a searing shade of jade. With its light, all three demons lifted for the briefest of moments, then slammed back into the ground as if a giant had crushed them underfoot. Lady grinned and discharged another burst from her minigun.

He sensed the demons fading and bolted forward as Shadow landed a series of sharp blows on the nearest beast. He used her back as a springboard and sank his cane deep into its skull on his descent. It collapsed to the ground and he set his sights on the next just as it turned to face him.

“For King Vassago!” it howled, swinging its cleavers at his face, but Shadow dissolved and carried him out of reach easily.

A streak of platinum light blasted into its chest, leaving a massive cavity behind as it turned on a dime to hit the last foe. It took a step back as if trying to flee, but the bolt ripped through it anyway. V turned to spot you and Trish sprinting back to the van at top speed, more crackling golden light granting you extra speed.

He scanned the area for any further threats and relaxed. Only three Antenora’s and a Hell Bat? How stupid were demons, to attack them with such a poor force?

And who the Hell is King Vassago?

---Reader---

You reached the group faster than you thought possible, thanks to Trish’s lightning. It felt like flying; wind rushed by and your hair blew out behind you, but you barely had time to enjoy it before it dissipated. Your feet tingled as you slowed to a stop near Nico.

You scanned her and Lady for wounds, heart pounding in fear that barely retreated at the lack of blood. V seemed fine, too, but where was Kyrie? Most likely in the van, but you had to know for sure. Judging by the size of the fresh dent, the van probably shifted. She might have fallen or hit her head. You bit your lip and headed over to check.

“Sweet! Those worked even better than I thought!” Nico crowed. From the way her eyes sparkled as she stood, it was obvious she had a fresh batch of ideas to test.

A flash of auburn hair with a smile in the window eased the worry in your heart; Kyrie was fine. No one was hurt. You could relax.

The tension in your shoulders faded and you sighed. Separating from the group might not be wise, going forward. What if a more powerful demon had attacked? Even with Trish’s speed boost, you doubted you could’ve made it in time to stop any serious carnage. Someone could’ve died or been seriously injured.

Not an option.

You glared at V. If he’d only kept his mouth shut, you never would’ve stepped away. It was sheer luck that nothing catastrophic happened. Next time you might not be so lucky, and even to think it made you boil in rage. A muscle in your cheek twitched and you clenched your jaw, imagining all the ways this dumb fight could end up getting someone killed.

Trish cleared her throat beside you and gave you a meaningful glance, but there was no stopping your fury. Lady kept her eyes locked on her weapons, studiously staying out of it. You wished Trish would back off, too, but after what just happened you refused to steal a moment alone with the poet to deal with it privately.

You scowled and stomped over to him.

His stupid protective streak needed to be addressed; now.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as you neared him, recognizing the wrath in your expression. You got within three feet and crossed your arms to keep from throwing a punch, lips parting to launch into a tirade.

Then you heard it. The hum. But it was different, clearer and more direct, and…

Why doesn’t it hurt?

Your rage vanished. V was staring at you, his concern growing with every second you remained silent. You barely noticed, too focused on the stream of visions racing through your mind. White plains speckled with patches of iridescent fluid. Heat. The taste of gasoline in the air. Bizarre shapes looming in the distance. It was all so clear.

“Little fox, what’s wrong? Are you all right?” V asked, reaching out to grasp your shoulder.

“The hum is back, but there’s no pain.”

Trish’s eyes widened and she came to join you and the poet. “Do you see anything?”

You closed your eyes, focusing on the imagery. Dusty stones. The sound of wind. A pale sky with two suns glowing overhead. You licked your lips and relayed every detail. The blonde gasped as you spoke, and you paused. Did she know what was wrong with you now? Did she have the answers you so desperately needed?

She only spoke two words. “Which way?”

Your eyes shot open to stare at her, blinking in bewilderment. “What?”

She grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the van, V and Lady following a beat later. “I’ll explain on the way, just tell Nico which direction to drive!”

What the fuck is going on? I don’t know which way to go!

Trish rolled her eyes at your lack of a response and forced you to turn a small circle. You closed your eyes, trusting her knowledge to guide you to whatever answer she was looking for. The hum rose and fell until you gasped at a sudden burst of insistent resonance. You froze. That was it, right there!

“There!”

The blonde hummed and in less than a minute, Nico was barreling toward the horizon at full speed. Pots and pans clanged and machine parts shrieked at every bump but Trish insisted she floor it, no matter what. The blonde stood beside the driver’s seat and stared out the windshield, scanning the landscape for something with total focus. You couldn’t take it.

“Trish, what the fuck?! What’s going on?”

She glanced at you as if she’d forgotten you were there, but her eyes shot back to the view almost instantly.

“I don’t understand how or why, but I think you have the gift.”

You wanted to strangle her. What did you have to do to get some damn answers? “What gift?”

“It shouldn’t be possible, only demons can do it.”

V growled from behind you, equally irritated at her half-answers. “Care to elaborate?”

She sighed, still focused on the cacophony of color speeding by. “Basically, you’re a compass. The hum is a portal opening and the visions are a peek at what’s on the other side. I just don’t understand why!”

Wait, what? I don’t have weird powers, no way!

Nico hit a bump and you staggered. You barely noticed.

None of it made sense. You weren’t special, not like that at least! Demons and the Underworld, monsters and magic… all of it was still so new to you. For over twenty years, you lived your life like anyone else. No mystical powers, no dark forces or climactic battles. You were just a nurse.

Who wields a sword and is in love with a guy who shares his body with three demons.

You started trembling and took a seat on the couch. After all you’d seen, all you’d experienced, was it really so hard to believe? So much had changed; if someone told you a year ago this was where your life was heading, you would’ve laughed in their face.

But here you were.

In the Underworld.

Searching for a pair of demon hunters.

You leaned back and rested your head on the cushion. The hum was getting louder, but it didn’t hurt. Silver linings. It did seem connected to the portals; you said as much to V at your mother’s. Maybe Trish was right.

“I see it, I see it! A portal!” Nico shouted. Lady and Kyrie cheered from their seats at the small table and Trish smiled. Straight ahead, an amber gateway stood tall amongst a grove of purple and gold trees. The hum pulsated in recognition as you stared at it and you knew the truth.

There was no denying it now. All that was left was a single question.

Why me?

#fanfic #v x reader #dmcv #Crimson Tide #reader insert #devil may cry #my writing #dmc trish

[thequeenofcronuts]

Uncertainties - Tales of the Past Flashback 1

Tales of the Past Flashback 1 - Flashback to the group during Spring Term at USC

AU Summary - Career life is busy for a group of six friends when they meet a captivating woman with a beautiful soul. New friendships are forged and new romances revealed. All the while hearts are torn and closets are cleared of skeletons. True love always wins in the end, right?

AU Warnings - This Stand Alone will include the following 18+ subjects: Language, NS*W, Verbal Abuse, and Abortion. If ANY of these subjects will cause pain or hardship in reading, please skip reading Uncertainties. That being said, each chapter will include its own specific warnings.

AU Uncertainties Pairings and Characters: Drake x Riley /  Liam x Riley  /  Liam x Olivia  / Drake x Olivia / Maxwell x Savannah, including Hana, and Madeleine, and OCs

Tags @client-327 @dcbbw @carabeth @drakesensworld @purplegreyshrimp

Tales of the Past Flashback 1 Summary - Take a look back at memories the group share from their Spring Term, Freshman Year at the University of South California 

Tales of the Past Flashback 1 Warnings - NS*W, Language 18+. By reading this you consent that you are 18+

Chapter Word Count: 5,000 give or take

**All characters from the Choices Book: The Royal Romance are owned by Pixelberry Studios (Any other characters are the product of my brain…I probably should apologize now. 🙃😉)

Olivia and Liam are sitting out on the grass in the quad, soaking in the sunshine, while studying for their Spring midterms. Well, she's studying for her last exam while Liam is writing an essay. “I can't fucking believe for a History course your midterm is not an exam but writing an essay.” Liam gives her a wry smile. “Not my fault you chose to take Hell- manities, aka Humanities, this semester. You know that prof’s intention is to make as many of his students fail as he can.” Olivia scoffs. “My guess is the old man takes it out on us because he’s not getting any. His cringe worthiness is like a 20 out of 10, while his sexual attraction is so low it can't even be measured. Liam is lost in a sea of laughter while he falls backward onto the grass. “True enough, Olivia. From what I’ve heard from Drake he hates the prof as much as you do.” “Walker is a dumb ass, but for once he is correct in his description of the prof as the ‘Professor of Rapacious Evil’. I would feel sorry for the prof’s wife, but I don't have it in me. Her choice after all.” Liam looks up at the blue sky. “You know Olivia, we really can be big assholes.” “Meh,” Olivia shrugs, “It’s all apart of the college experience.”

It's quiet between them for awhile, campus life swirling around them, when finally Olivia clears her throat causing Liam to look up into her deep emerald eyes. “So Liam. I kinda need to tell you something and I’m not sure how you’ll react.” She takes a breath. “During the Midterm party at your guy’s frat house I slept with someone.” She looks trying to read his expression but gets nothing. After a moment Liam does a very tiny shrug. “Well I’m not saying I’m thrilled, but we have agreed not to be exclusive, and we’ve only been together since a few days before Thanksgiving Break. And come on, Olivia, it was a frat party after all.” Liam quirks a brow and chuckles, but she lowers her eyes. “Well, there's a bit more. The rest of the story is it was with Drake. I really fucked up Liam.” She pauses. “Ok, maybe that was the wrong phrase to use. Anyway Liam, how pissed are you?” Liam does swallow hard before answering, “Ok, so now I’m really beyond not thrilled at this point, but I know you two were…active most of last semester.” He looks back up the sky for a minute.

“Olivia, the six of us have only known each other since the beginning of the year, which obviously isn't that long, yet we all have become rather close quickly. We do spend all of our free time together. Hell, I think Maxwell and Savannah may actually be very serious already. If we were in a different stage in our relationship then this conversation is quite different. Right now you're not leading me on and Drake and I aren't in some backstabbing competition.” Liam leans up and gives her a sweet kiss on the cheek. She can finally look him in the eyes. “You know Liam, I’ve honestly come to hate him over these last couple months. He's an egotistical jerk who acts like it pains him to be around, I guess, anything.” 

She looks out over the quad with a frown on her face. “I can see your point,” Liam lays back on the ground again as he plucks a blade of grass turning it over in his fingers, “but as Maxwell and I are getting to know him more it seems that it might not be his ego so much that holds him back. There may be something else.” She gives him an over exaggerated sigh. “Well think what you want, I’ll just keep on hating him, a lot.” He laughs at her matter of fact tone. “What's so funny over there, Rys?” “Olivia, you find so much joy in pushing all of Drake's buttons. You really are a certain brand of evil when it comes to him, and if I wasn't getting to know you better, I’d be scared.” She flops down on the grass next to him and takes his hand, he chuckles as their eyes meet and gives her hand a gentle squeeze. “"No matter, Liam, I blame what happened during party on alcohol. Lots, and lots of alcohol.”

A few days later Olivia and Liam are in the dining halll for lunch. “Olivia,” Liam said over the chatter of the dining hall. “The Humanities exam is only three days away. You're going to have to put your pride aside and ask him to help you study for this exam. Only you two, out of the six of us, are in Humanities this semester. It could be, ummmm, let me think a moment.” he shoots her a devilish grin. “It could be a very….cathartic experience for you and this certain Humanities classmate.” As he finishes her eyes spit daggers into his soul and she hisses, “You know, you’ve been finding way too much joy in toying with me about all this.” Liam cocks his head, “Well, my minx, can you blame me? You have to admit we both benefit immensely when you’re all riled up.” He wiggles his brows at her. “Fine. Yes it is hot and amazing when I’m riled up.” He kisses her with a growl while those around their table look up and stare. “It seems, Liam, we agree on our stance when it comes to PDA, but back to the matter at hand. It's not all about pride in needing help for the exam. Around our small group of friends he’s using innuendo as his ammo to push my buttons all the time now, and it sucks.” With her arms crossed, and jaw clenched she looks expectedly at Liam for his response. “Well Olivia, what can I say? Karma’s a bitch. Look, just study together and pass your exam, okay. You need your GPA this semester to be better than last, or my little minx won't still be on campus with me Sophomore year.” His kisses her on the cheek and spots Drake, he waves him over.

“Hey Drake, we were just talking about you. Come on over and sit with us.” Olivia kicks Liam hard under table as Drake looks at them both, shrugging, while turning his eyes to Olivia menacingly.  “Heh, sure, thanks. So what's up with you two on this fine afternoon?” Drake asks as he sits. Liam glances at Olivia out of the corner of his eye as he answers, “Oh not much. We’re just sitting hear eating lunch and talking about midterms, especially Olivia's Humanities exam.” She would have Liam incinerated into ash that very second, just by one look, if at all possible. “Thank god all I have left that Hell-manities exam.” Drake looks at the textbook next to him and winces.

“Yeah, Olivia was talking about needing a study partner for that one, thinking two classmates getting ready for the exam would help out both.” Her eyes bore into Liam while Drake gives him a smirk as he replies, “Why the hell not? It's going to be a bitch of an exam, so sharing notes sounds good. My night class tomorrow doesn't get out until after the library and Student Union close. We can study in the lounge of our frat house. Those sorority girls in your house can't ever stop squealing or squeeing or whatever the hell you all call it.” Drake takes a bite of his burger and Liam slaps him on his shoulder. “Sounds like you and Olivia have a plan. Well, we’re off. See you later Drake.” When Liam and Olivia reach her sorority house she grabs him by the arm yanking him to halt. “So help me Liam, if you weren't so sexy and good in bed I’d wrap my hands around your neck and choke you hard right here.” Liam chuckles. “Oh Olivia, promises, promises.

The next night she is sitting in the lounge of the guy’s frat house simmering heading quickly into full on fuming. All the pool tables are being used by drunken guys and girls, liquor flowing, and couples are making out everywhere. Included Maxwell and Savannah which causes Olivia to visibly cringe. Finally Drake shows up finishing off some fries. “You went on a stroll for food after class while I’ve been sitting here in an ocean of morons?!” “Hey, the body and brain need fuel. So, shall we?” “Fine,” she sighs. “Let's just get this over with as fast as possible.” “Well, well, Olivia,” he pauses for effect, “I’ve never heard you say that to me, ever.” He raises an eyebrow and smirks. ‘I so want to slap you right now’. She stands to leave when she remembers, ‘I have to pass this exam, it’s almost fifty percent of the entire semester grade. Fuck.’ “Walker, just shut the fuck up and study.” 

With that she takes a seat again while they pull out their notes. Not long after Olivia realizes that Drake is actually smarter than she had originally pegged him to be. Definitely takes better, more detailed notes. ‘Shit, I really am going to need his damn notes and explanations for this exam.’ After about a half an hour later they can't even hear each other thanks to the college night life buzzing around them.  So Drake nods to upstairs with Olivia shaking her head vehemently. ‘But…Shit, I really need to pass this course. My GPA has to be better to stay in the Sorority House next year. Fuck.’ They reach Drake's room. “Door.stays.open. Walker.” Drake throws his hands up in surrender. “That was my plan.”

Studying for about forty-minutes the antics out in the hall are just as bad as they are downstairs. Drake gets up to shut the door but before he latches it closed he turns to her, “Would you rather leave?” ‘I so hate myself right now.’ “No. I’ve noticed how shit my notes are.” He shuts the door and she eyes his every move suspiciously. “For gods sake I’m not a jackoff. I never have nor ever will take advantage or force something on anyone. You even told me you remember your ‘yes’ this past party.” Drake says wholeheartedly meaning it all,  and she knows it's true. He wouldn't ever. “I know it, Drake.” But he does decide, however, to use this time to pay her back for the comment she made about him yesterday loudly in the crowded Student Union. “You just forgot I know how act appropriately with ladies because you never, ever told me ‘no’. You only screamed ‘yes’.” Her jaw clamped. “Is it not true, Miss?” ‘Oh I hate him.’ “That was low. I really do hate you Drake Walker. Actually I hate you even more.” “Guess that answers my question.” ‘After what she had said yesterday and the look on her face right now, yep. Worth it.’

She takes a few minutes to string together sentences of all curse words she can think up directing them at him, then sits back down. ‘Oh so totally worth it. Epic win. Put one the scoreboard board far Drake Walker.’ It takes her a bit, but she finally listens as he describes various art techniques and their major time periods. ‘How does remember all this?!’ “When in the nine hells did you actually get smart, Walker?” It has to be some sort of accident. Did you get your head pounded by another frat guy and it resulted in this miracle?!” Seething, “I’m not just a dumb piece of shit, you know Olivia!” ‘Hmmm, his intelligence, that was a fun button to push. I’ll remember that one.’ “Oh just shut up Olivia. Let's finish the art section and skip the western culture section. Then you can show yourself out.” “Fine.” She yelled. “Fine.” He yelled back. And before either knew it their lips were crashing together with Olivia’s hands grasping his shaggy brown hair. Like so many times before he slid her onto his lap first, as their tongues danced, his hands sliding up her thighs landing on her waist. And like every time before he stopped to asked her. And like every time before she answered with a yes.

He trails kisses from her shoulder blade, up her neck, across her jaw and their lips met again. She runs her tongue along his bottom lip, and as he opens his mouth his hands started to wander under her shirt moving up her stomach going up to… and then she goes tense and completely froze. Drake immediately stops looking at her for an answer. ‘I will not be some girl flitting between men. Especially when I actually care about a really good man. Done. Over.’ “No more. Not tonight, not ever Walker. I’m done. So many months wasted on you. Those months were all about living the freedom of college in my first semester. But that's it. That's all it was and ever will be, nothing.” Olivia gets up and gathers her things. ‘Fuck. Ouch Olivia. That was all it was? Damn.’ “Whatever Olivia. Whatever makes yourself feel better. Funny how it meant nothing, oh how many months later!” Drake is yelling while Olivia walks to the door. With her hand on the door nob she looks back. “What the hell has been wrong with me all these months.” ‘Oh no, you don't get walk out the door with that being the last words.’ Drake shrugs. “Great sex is great sex, friends with benefits?” They both look at each other for a long time, having an unspoken escalating argument. Finally Drake spits out, “See you Friday night when the group celebrates the end of midterms.” Olivia rubs her temples and answers in complete frustration. “Yes. See you then. We both care about all of our friends, Drake.” ‘Unfortunately, Walker, you have to be there.’ One last glare at each other. “But you and I, Drake, we will never be friends.” ‘Couldn't agree more.’ “Neither one of us would want to. Now get out of my room.” Olivia stomps out and slams the door.

As soon as she's out of Drake's room she heads down the hall to Liam's and pounds on the door. He opens it and she shoves him hard back into the room. He can't help but laugh at the look on her face. “I take it the study session went well?” Not saying a word she drops her things to the floor and slams the door shut. Liam quirks an eyebrow and before he can move she pushes him down on the bed crawling on top of him, straddling him as she immediately starts to unbutton his shirt tugging on it until she unfastens the last button. Liam sits up to shrug it off while Olivia grabs the hem of his undershirt pulling it off before he's even gotten the first shirt off. She pushes him back down, while he starts to speak, “Trust me, I’m not complaining but wh-“ Her lips are on his before he can finish. Her nails dig into his shoulders while his tongue runs over her bottom lip. She invites him in, soon tongues wrestling for dominance. Liam grabs her ass squeezing hard enough she yelps into his mouth. He loves that. His hands travel slowly up her hips, up her stomach and cup her breast while she begins to grind her hips on his. She pulls herself back up and throws her shirt to ground while he unfastens her bra which hits the ground as well.

Liam lavishes one breast nibbling and sucking on its bud until it's a hard peak, while he massages and twists the other. A moan rolls off her lips and he takes it as a sign to move to her other breast. Her taste drives him to wanting so.much.more. In an instant Liam is making quick work of the button and zipper of her jeans, sliding a hand down her pants rubbing her folds trough her panties. “You are so fucking wet for me.” Her eyes meet his as she responds in authoritative tone, “Up now. Time to get these pants off.” They stand and he slides her jeans and panties down while she uses his shoulder for balance kicking them off. She unbuttons and unzips his jeans then stands back, watching him pull them and his boxer briefs off.

Liam’s eyes rake her up and down, “Damn you're sexy. I can never get tired of seeing you like this.” Olivia just gives him a wicked grin as she slowly drops to her knees in front of him placing her hand around his hardened length, stroking it a few times before taking him into her mouth. “Shit.” Liam's head falls back as her tongue circles around his tip tasting the little bit that's already escaped him. He grabs a hold of her hair as her lips firmly surround him while moving him in and out. She lets out a deep moan against him as she moves. “Fuck, babe!” Liam begins to buck his hips while she takes him in fully. He feels himself hitting the back of her throat, while in his mind cursing and thanking at the time. ‘Not going to make it much longer if she doesn't stop this.’ He looks down and barely gets out with a husky voice. “Olivia, I,” he moans “You have to stop.” She looks up at him trough hooded eyes and he knows she isn't planning on stopping.

He gently starts pulling her back. She sighs against him one last time and lets go with a pop. “Liam, if you're stopping me from this you better do one hell of a job.” He whispers back, “I accept your challenge.” He grabs a condom while Olivia makes the decision to rest on her knees with her elbows down on the mattress. Liam turns and lets out a primal growl as his tongue meets her folds. Her breath hitches as he licks up to her nub while pushing a finger into her dripping wetness. He nibbles the sensitive spot with gentle pressure and circles it with his tongue. He slides in a second finger and moves them both back and forth. “Shit Liam, more! Now!” He sucks her harder as his slides in the third finger curling them just right reaching that spot which makes her knees weak. She arches her back and pushes herself into him. “Fuck! I’m…C…“ She yells his name and it's the best sound in his life. He gives her a moment while rubbing soft circles on her back. “Enjoy, a breath for a minute baby. We’re not finished.”

Waiting he licks and sucks his fingers clean as he strokes himself a few times before grabbing her hips sliding in his solid length. He waits a second as they adjust saying each other's name then he immediately starts with a hard thrust. He hears her throaty voice, “My, my. Impatient aren't we?” That’s all it takes for him to grab her hips firmly and thrust harder rocking back and forth as she moans his name over and over. They hit their rhythm and she pants “Harder Liam! Give me hard now! I need more of you!” ‘Shit, I’m barely hanging on as it is.’ Their skin slaps together as he reaches one hand around to wet his finger drawing tantalizing circles around her nub as he continues to thrust harder and harder. “Fuck Liam! Just…a…little…more...I’m, I’m-“ he begins to feel her grip around him start to tighten. “Liam, oh fuck. YES!” He sloppily thrusts twice more while she completely unravels. He stops holding himself back finding his own release. He smirks proudly as Olivia screams his name once more while they both ride out their waves of passion.

Soon they are falling onto the bed. Olivia grabs him close and lays her head on his chest as they work to slower their breaths while laying in their euphoria. “So, did I do one hell of a job? Enough to win your challenge?” Liam chuckles kissing the top of her head. “My god yes! I’ll happily lose that challenge to mind blowing sex any day. But, I don't lose other challenges.” He laughs as she kisses his chest and begins mindlessly running circles around his strong abs, while he looks at the ceiling twirling a piece of her long vibrant red hair around his fingers. Suddenly Olivia remembers the words she heard earlier “…Great sex is great sex. Friends with benefits?…” She raises to an elbow looking deep into Liam’s crystal sea blue eyes. “You know Liam, mind blowing is far superior to great.” He looks at her completely confused. “Just trust me here, babe. Mind blowing is so fucking superior to just great.” She smirks as she lays back down again resting her head on his chest. “Liam” she says into his chest with a kiss. “Yes babe?” “I think we should start seeing each other exclusively.” A few seconds later he kisses the top of her head and she can feel his smile. “Mmmmm, I like this decision of yours. A lot.”

A few weeks later after Spring Break, Maxwell, Olivia, and Drake are sitting in the Student Union waiting for Hana, Savannah, and Liam to show for their night out to celebrate the group’s reunion. While hanging out there Maxwell tilts his head to Olivia and wiggles his eyebrows, “I hear you and Liam are officially exclusive. Awesomeness!!! Now you guys can double with me and Savannah!” Olivia rolls eyes and flatly responds, “Oh, yay.” Maxwell smiles, “I know, right? It will be epic!” Drake sits back somewhat amused by the interaction. “Yeah, you four should start planning your first double date tonight.” Then he mumbles something about someone under his breath as quietly as he can, but Olivia notices. “Why Drake, are you jealous?” He is completely unfazed knowing she's just trying to push his buttons. Maxwell, on the other hand, grins from ear to ear. “Oh trust me Olivia, and let me assure you, he is most certainly not jealous. If Drake was actually under any kind of spell of your’s it's been bro-“ Drake snaps at him, “Beaumont! Why the hell are we celebrating tonight being back here for just more classes? Only you would think of something so ridiculous.” Maxwell looks over shaking his head, “This is about the six of us being back together after spring break, man. We gotta catch up.” Drake tilts his head backwards and shuts his eyes. “It was only a little over a week for gods sake.”

Olivia catches the extra sour tone in Drake’s voice. “I didn't know you could get any grumpier, Walker. What exactly is your extra problem? Are you going to continue to be such an ass all night? Staying away while radiating your extra bit of chilly venom.” Drake doesn't answer, but yet again Maxwell does. “He’s just pissed on an missed opportunity. Possibly a chance of a lifetime.” Maxwell is so focused on Olivia he doesn't register the rising anger on Drake’s face. “Ok, Olivia, so check this out. So you know how Drake stayed here over break and I got back a little earlier than the rest of you? We were in one of campus books stores, you know this campus has way too many all over the-,” “Focus Maxwell, and get this Walker story over with as fast as possible.” Olivia crosses her arms. ‘Ok, focusing and speed talking initiated. So me and Drake we’re chilling out in the book store when I see my old pal here intently staring off to something a few aisles over. I follow his line of sight and saw what he was checking out. His eyes were completely locked on this girl. I mean not blinking, breath hitching sort of thing. Anyway, while we all know that I have the lady love of my life, I’ll admit she was quite stunning. Long raven black hair, porcelain white skin, and these really deep piercing blue eyes. Drake's feet were glued to the floor when she moved to us and starts to look at the books next to him. I of course step out of the way, but not Drake here, he still can't move. So he’s standing like crazy still as she looks up to him to say excuse me or probably something like that, except she stops and stares at him. Complete radio silence. Eventually, I clear my throat and they snap out of their trance while I smoothly walk away, as you know how I do. So I buy my stuff and head outside to wait for Drake. While waiting I see the girl walkout with this huge smile and this dreamy look in those piercing blues. Suddenly, though, she stops in her tracks looking back to the store bewildered. I thought maybe she just forgot something, and I didn't even really think much about it as she leaves. She's gone when Drake walks out and I see he has nothing in his hands, totally forgotten to get what he needed to buy. Except Drake had a gigantic smile on his face. For real, Olivia, I had no idea a shit-eating grin was possible for our guy here. I figure he at least he found something in there, even if he forgot what he needed to buy.” Maxwell winks, “So I asked him to spill. And get this Olivia, come to find out he was so lost in her beauty he totally choked, like in the worst way. No name, no phone number, no dorm or sorority information. He was so lost in loveydovey-land all functioning abilities went out of his mind. He’s been extra grumpy, brooding, and not going anywhere or talking anyone since. He’s got it bad for her, but we have no idea who she is. But he did tell me that they’d talked the whole time after I left, feeling like there was mutual interest, and from what I saw when she walked out that store I’d completely agree. I’m a believer in love at first sight, enter my lady love into the story again, but if this girl had just stood there like a minute longer or if he had walked out a minute sooner, bam. He’d have a different story to tell right now.”

Drake was sitting with arms crossed, jaw clenched, and his lips pressed in a hard thin line. Finally he spoke, “You know I’ve actually been sitting here the whole time Maxwell. And furthermore, Beaumont, do you ever take a breath when talking, or even better yet, do you ever shut the fuck up?!” Olivia looks at Drake shaking her head. “Way to go dipshit. Try to find her again on a campus with around 20,000 undergrads, and that doesn't account for the number of graduate students either. Good luck with what sounds like the screwup of lifetime. She's the one that got away before you were close enough for her to get away.” Maxwell cuts in with, “Well, with what I saw, I’d venture to say he stared long enough he could definitely pick her out of a lineup, or better yet work with one of those sketch artist for a ‘Have you seen this girl?’ poster.” Olivia can't stop herself, doubled over in wild laughter, while Drake stands up with a force so intense the big bulky armchair he was sitting in moved a bit across the floor. Then shoving his hands in his pockets he picks a wall to sulk against.

Finally Liam, Savannah, and Hana show up; along with another girl. Hugs and kisses were given all around, except for Drake. They all felt an aura of something between rage, frustration, and “leave me the hell alone” radiating strongly off him. Hana introduced everyone to Allison, who she was set up with for a blind date over break. With everyone finally there Maxwell directs the group onward to his club of choice, and once there the couples hit the dance floor as Drake finds a table in a corner for the night. He never was one that went out of his way to dance, but he definitely would with any girl that caught is eye. Uncharacteristically, though, this night he wasn't looking for any random girls to dancing with, and he wasn't there too long before he let his friends know he was heading back to campus calling it a night. Which of course Olivia took advantage of and starting to call him “grandpa” at every chance she got everyday afte

A few months later, Spring Term is finished, bringing the group the end of their Freshman year. They all decide to stay on campus together for the Summer Semester to have a stellar time doing everything college kids can think up to do. And damn did they make the most of their freedom. Liam and Olivia had taken a short trip right after exams were over, but back in a few days. Maxwell and Savannah basically lived together most of the summer, while Liam and Olivia out right lived with each other. Hana and Allison were adorable together and Alli fit in with the group extremely well. Most surprising to everyone though was that Liam and Olivia actually enjoyed spending time with Maxwell and Savannah. Savannah was so much fun and just lovely, but if Maxwell were to survive the summer, Olivia could only take meeting up with them in small doses.

Drake, however, chose to take a course over the summer which everyone else thought was crazy, but it kept him busy. With his course work he wasn't around the group as much, but he did join them for their antics when he could. They all noticed, though, that he hadn't gotten out of that funk he’d been in since spring break; but honestly he had always been the curmudgeon of the group.

And like that, Sophomore Year found them.

#the royal romance #choices the royal romance #choices trr #trr drake #drake walker #trr liam #liam x mc #drake x mc #liam x olivia #drake x olivia #maxwell x savannah #trr olivia #riley brooks #maxwell beaumont

[beepbeeprichiellc]

31. With Reddie

31. “Are you jealous?”

It was hot, way to fucking hot to be anywhere but inside and yet here they were, seven friends lounging at a public pool with the rest of the town of Derry. Eddie had protested against it vigorously, listing off the endless bacteria that cultures in public pools, that’s not including the ones that come for the feces and urine that originated from the children. In the end, he had been vetoed-like usual-and brushed off. He refused to get into the water, and did nothing but apply sunscreen to himself and the others. Seething hatred and annoyance wasn’t what he had planned on doing today but then again he also didn’t plan on burning like bacon on top of an oven.

“Don’t you think you are being a little over dramatic?” Beverly asked from her spot beside him, dressed in a two piece bikini while the sun cooked her back. She called it tanning, he called it skin cancer. “I mean it’s just a pool for god sake.”

Eddie snorted, turning his nose up in disgust. “I do not, thank you very much! When everyone gets a infection I’ll be there to shove it into their face.”

“Whatever.” She muttered, rolling over onto her back and leaning upward onto her elbows. “Wallow in your self righteousness than. I like the company anyways.”

“You know Ben would be more than happy to keep you company.” Eddie pointed out, smugly smiling down to his friend. “I can move if you want-”

“EDS!” A loud voice called from across the poole, grabbing his attention. There, standing on the edge of the high dive waving his hands like a huge dork. “EDS! WATCH ME!” People were staring, glancing between the two boys with curious eyes. Eddie could feel his face fluster from all of the attention. “WATCH ME THIS!”

“Right, please tease me while Richie is over there begging for your attention.” Beverly mused, laughing at the irony. “Do you want me to move?”

Eddie tried his best to ignore here, all the while watching the trashmouth jump from the edge, attempting to do a flip and ending up belly flopping. The sound was horrendous but the smile that Richie wore afterwards was worth the embarrassment that it earned him. Maybe he did have a small thing for his best friend, what was the harm in that?

The sun was lowering and people were heading out, the scorching sun finally saying goodbye to another summer day and closing the waste of the day. Most of the Losers were gathering their things, talking among themselves about the “fun” day they had. Eddie was already ready two hours ago, having felt left out once Beverly decided to jump into the chilly water. “Hey,” Mike muttered, looking around from friend to friend. “Where’s Richie?”

Eddie’s head immediately shot up, looking around the pool for their missing friend. He found him, across the way, leaning against the chain link fence with a tall blonde lifeguard. They were standing close, too close if you asked Eddie, smiles curling at the corner of their lips. There was a sudden ache in Eddie’s chest, watching as they spoke quietly and leaned into one another while he stood like an idiot with the others. There was a laugh among the group, and Stan’s sharp voice stating, “Look at that, only trashmouth could get into the lifeguards pants.”

Swallowing, Eddie dropped his gaze, biting his lip and shaking his head. Beverly was beside him, sliding her hand atop of his shoulder in a gesture of kindness but it burned him, like so many other times this exact thing had happened. He brushed her off, grabbing his bag and walking away from his friends in a huff. Someone called after him, but it was lost along the way.

Cursing he jumped into the cab of Bill’s truck, the gnawing in his gut making him want to vomit on the dash. When the others finally walked out Richie took one look at him sitting in the car and beelined to him. Eddie kept his face forward, not even looking over to his friend that pressed his body against the door. “Hey Eddie Spaghetti, you are in the wrong car. You rode with me remember?”

“Bill’s going to take me home.” He snapped back, nodding to their leader who didn’t even argue as he shoved his key into the engine. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What?” Richie asked, half chuckling. “But I always take you home.” Eddie only shrugged, slightly adjusting his body so that his back was turned. “Haha, very funny. Come on, I’ll stop at that ice cream place you like so much.” He tried to open to door, pulling on the handle but failing due to the lock. “Eddie?” He asked softly, looking up him with magnified eyes. “Are you mad at me or something?”

“Drive.” Eddie grumbled over to Bill, not bothering to answer the trashmouth. Bill tilted his head, wavering for a moment. “Come on, if I’m late my Mom won’t let me go to the Aladin tomorrow.”

“Sorry Rich.” Bill muttered, putting the gear into reverse and pulling from the curb, shooting the trashmouth a sympathetic look. Richie stood there as they drove away, shoulders slumped and and sadden eyes. It took all Eddie had not to tell Bill to stop so that he could give in, wanting nothing more than to console his best friend.

But they drove on, leaving the pool behind in their dust. It was silent, other than a soft tune coming from the radio. Eddie knew he could speak at any moment and Bill would engage but he didn’t want to, not right now. That was the best thing about their leader, he knew when to stay quiet and when to speak. Derry flew by, and soon they were in the middle of town right by the ice cream shop that Richie had mentioned. Eddie felt a pull in his chest, a want that he tried to ignore.

They rolled to a stop light, and Bill shifted his weight. “Hey Eds?”

“Yeah?”

"Are you jealous?”

Eddie glared over to his friend, “Jealous? Of you and Audra? Why would I be, I think she is great! A real good fit or you, and she obviously likes you too.”

“No.” Bill shook his head, “Are you jealous of Richie?”

This nearly made the short boy choke, his face reddening. “Why because he got that girl to talk to him? I didn’t even think she was attractive, so not my type and-”

“Are you jealous because Richie was talking to her.” Bill corrected, giving Eddie a knowing look. “I know you don’t like girls, we’ve been friends for thirteen years. I know you aren’t out, and that’s fine, but I know you’re gay.”

Eddie deflated entirely, melting into the cheap cloth. Maybe he wasn’t as subtle as he had thought, He felt so vulnerable, sitting there bare and exposed for all to see. Rubbing the bridge of his nose he had to ask, “Do the others-”

“No.” Bill finished, shaking his head. “They don’t know. Well, I think Beverly does but that’s it.” Eddie wanted to cry, and his friend must have picked up on this because he added, “We don’t care Eddie. If you’re happy, we happy. We love you no matter who you love.”

“You don’t know that.” Eddie whispered.

“I know Richie likes you, as in likes you more than a friend.” Bill answered softly, pressing the gas as the light turned green. Eddie snorted, “Everyone sees the way he looks at you, the way he goes out of his way to make you happy. He likes you too Eddie, it’s so obvious.”

“If it’s so obvious then why did he nearly shove his tongue down that girls throat?” He shot back, growling under his breath. “This conversation is pointless, he doesn’t care about me or like me or whatever. He’s only after one thing and I don’t have that one thing.”

“Eddie, that isn’t-”

“Whatever.” He cut harshly, looking back out the window as they pulled into his neighborhood. “I don’t care.” But they both knew he did, oh god did he care.

Bill pulled into his driveway, parking it. Without another word Eddie grabbed his things and opened to door, hopping down onto the pavement. Before shutting the door Bill called out to him one last time. “Give him a break okay? Richie is smart but he can be real dumb sometimes. He doesn’t know how to act around you, and can forget his feelings unlike you but he does like you and he does care. I’d bet my life on it.”

Eddie bit his lip and shut the door, muttering a quick thank you. The walk up to his door was agonizing, Bill’s truck squeaking loudly along the way. With a deep breath he went inside, cringing as his mother called him over to her, fawning over the slight redness to his skin.

Maybe Bill was right, maybe he was being too harsh.

Weather the rest was right or not, weather Richie really did like him, he didn’t know. Things were complicated between them and they were probably always going to be this way. It was the painful truth, so painful that he pushed it as far back as he could for the rest of the afternoon and when the familiar knock came at his window he didn’t even give it a second thought.

Richie tumbled in awkwardly, falling onto the floor with a thud. He looked up with a broken smile, his eyes sorrowful and so welcoming that Eddie could drown in the deep blue pools. With an eye roll, Eddie walked away from the mess and sat on his bed, waiting for the ramble to start.

And start it did because when Richie was nervous he did what he did best, talk. “Hey, yeah…hi. Thanks for letting me in, it’s still hot outside can you believe it? Fucking summer man, it sucks ass…well better than being in school…man are can you believe we are going to be seniors this year? Well I guess you can because you are…..well smart and I’m….awkward so yeah senior year! You excited? I am….kinda scared but excited and-”

“Beep beep Richie..” Eddie said, rubbing his temples and laughing.

Richie’s eyes sparkled, “Yeah, beep beep me.” Slowly and gently he sat down beside his friend, leaving a small space between them. It was silent for a moment and then, “Are we okay?” The trashmouth whispered, so softly that it was almost nonexistent.

Eddie wanted to say so many things, to pour his heart out onto his bedroom floor and throw himself at his best friend but he didn’t. Couldn’t. Not now. Not when their entire relationship was on the line. He could lose so many things, but Richie it seemed, was not one of them. So he answered honestly, nudging Richie’s shoulder in the friendlies way possible, giving nothing up.

“Yeah, we are okay.”

#reddie #it #it au #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #prompt #prompt me baby

[taztaas]

#50 taakitz? Maybe with your favorite au!

Hey anon! Sorry, this took ages. This was a bit tricky, I figured that High School AU’s are my fave but the prompt didn’t really fit, but I went with that anyway. I already wrote this (1688 words jeez I have no chill) and then I remembered that I really like fake dating AU’s… That one would have been easier. But, well, here you go. I made Taako some sort of sleep gremlin sorry for that. Also I have no idea how high schools work, please indulge me.

#50 “It’s not safe here.”

Something raps against the window and Kravitz jolts awake, a music sheet sticking to his face. He has fallen asleep at his desk again. Sitting up, he rubs at his tired eyes, half-wondering what woke him up. Something hits his window again, a small stone it sounds like.

Not really thinking about it he stands up, walks up to his window and opens it. He peers into the darkness below, and spots something humanoid-shaped crouching down on the gravel, bending down to pick up more stones.

“Hello?” Kravitz calls out unsurely, because he’s now awake enough to realize that he really isn’t friends with anyone who would be out on the school premises after dark, throwing things at his window.

The shape below stands up and Kravitz’s heart stops for a second because the person looks like Taako and he’s been gathering courage to ask the elf out for ages.

“Oh shit! Skellington?!” Lup laughs - because of course it had to be Lup - too loud and it makes Kravitz cringe in nervousness. “What are you doing in my brother’s room with your clothes on?!” She yells, trying to keep somewhat quiet at the same time but failing miserably, which seems to be a running theme with the twins.

Kravitz sighs. He goes to one campus Halloween party after watching Fantasy The Nightmare Before Christmas and Lup hasn’t let it go since. He ignores the nickname, and ignores the other thing Lup said even harder because what.

“This is my room, Taako’s is on the other side.” Kravitz whisper-shouts, “What are you doing here? It’s after curfew, you shouldn’t be out here, it’s not safe.” And it really is risky, Neverwinter High is extremely tight-assed about their rules. Breaking those rules - and getting caught - equals many grueling and boring hours in the school’s equivalent of community service.

“Pshaw, who gives a shit!” Lup says with a grin and a dismissive wave of her hand. Now that Kravitz’s eyes have gotten accustomed to the darkness, he notices that she’s wearing a red robe over her PJ’s and a pair of bunny slippers which seem a bit of an inconvenient choice in footwear for a night outside. “Get Taako for me?”

“Why don’t you just go around the building?” Kravitz asks with a frown but Lup just scoffs and shakes her head at him, as if exasperated by Kravitz’s ludicrous suggestion.

“And go through all that trouble when you can just walk a few steps across the hall to get him? Fuck that! Go get that boy for me.”

Kravitz pinches the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t know either of the twins that well but he’s familiar enough with their reputation that he knows it’s useless to argue.

“Fine. Wait just a moment.”

Lup grins and gives him a double thumbs up, her ears perking up excitedly. Kravitz closes the window just in case, not trusting Lup’s ability to control her impulses. He doesn’t want to come back to his room to find it full of gravel.

Resigned to his fate, he leaves his room and walks across the hall to Taako’s door. It takes a couple of knocks but then the door opens, revealing Taako in all of his drowsy glory. His hair is a tangled mess falling over his shoulders. He’s wearing a too large, worn t-shirt that is almost falling off one shoulder and a pair of sleeping shorts that are really way too short to be decent.

Kravitz is used to seeing Taako in carefully put together and thought-out looks, so seeing him like this makes something twist in Kravitz’s stomach and he bites his lip. Taako looks adorable. Thankfully Taako seems to be too out of it to take notice of Kravitz’s ogling.

“Muh?” The elf says intelligently, rubbing at one of his half-lidded eyes, ears drooping, other hand still on the door.

“Oh, uh. Your uh- sister is asking for you.” Kravitz stammers out and Taako blinks in response, but doesn’t look any more awake for it. He leans forward from the doorway and looks out into the hall, looking both ways. Besides the two of them, the hall is empty.

“Mrp?” He huffs out and looks at Kravitz with suspicion. His ears twitch in agitation.

“She’s ahh, she’s out on the courtyard, below my window.” Kravitz explains and points his thumb behind him, over his shoulder, indicating his dorm room. Taako’s eyes, glowing slightly in the dark, follow the movement.

“Meh.” Taako concludes and reaches for Kravitz’s hand, grabbing it before Kravitz has any time to panic about his clammy palms. Taako pulls his door closed with his free hand. Kravitz stares down at their joined hands in confusion before looking up.

“Uh, Taako? It’s just over there? You can actually see my door…”

“Mmm.” Taako says, staring Kravitz in the eyes blankly.

“You… You want me to walk you?”

“Mmm.” Taako keeps staring but his ears rise up slightly.

“Uh, okay I guess.” Kravitz says unsurely, but screaming internally - he’s holding Taako’s hand!! and pulls Taako with him to his room which is an uncharacteristic mess of bard-class assignments and reaper homework, double-majoring overwhelms him sometimes and work piles up.

Kravitz leads Taako to the window and lets go of his hand with no small amount of reluctance. Taako stands still, staring dumbly at the window, unable to comprehend the mechanism of opening it in his sleepy state. Kravitz sighs and reaches past him to open the latch and push the window open. His arm brushes Taako’s in the process and his skin breaks out in goosebumps.

Taako leans out of the window, just a bit too far to be safe and Kravitz is unable to stop himself from grabbing the back of Taako’s shirt to keep him from falling, just in case, even though he knows Taako has magic powers. Taako doesn’t seem to even notice but his other ear turns back towards Kravitz for a moment, like it has a mind of its own.

“There he is!” Lup yells from down below and Kravitz can’t help but to twitch in anxiety. They are so getting caught and raking leaves around the campus for the next month.

“Lulu?” Taako mutters, his first actual word of the night as he squints into the darkness where Lup’s eyes glow like a couple of lightening bugs.

“Get down here bro, we’re getting my fifteen dollars back!”

“You want to go rob Greg fuckin’ Grimaldis on a wednesday night?” Taako asks before he yawns widely, his ears pressing flat against his head.

“Uhh, yeah?” Lup says, her tone indicating that it should be obvious.

“…Okay.”

Taako starts to clamber out of the window and Kravitz’s jaw drops open because he’s going outside in those shorts? Taako doesn’t even have shoes on, just fuzzy socks.

“See you later, handsome.” Taako says with a tired but charming grin and Kravitz smiles back hesitantly.

Taako jumps down, casting featherfall at the last possible moment to be as over the top as possible. He lands softly on the grass, striking a pose and discreetly pulling the hem of his shorts down a bit while he yawns widely once again.

“Show off,” Lup snorts with affection and then they’re off.

Kravitz closes his window, hardly believing what just happened. He turns off the lights and goes to bed, still feeling dazed.

He is woken by a tapping at his window, and he curses himself for being such a light sleeper. Kravitz tries to will himself back to sleep but the tapping continues. He tries hard to ignore it until he hears the sound of his very much locked window opening and he scrambles up in alarm, gets tangled in his blankets and falls to the floor with a soft thump.

From his new perspective, he sees Taako stepping into his room through the window. The elf seems even more sluggish than before. He must’ve ran out of energy after managing whatever mischief he and Lup had been up to.

“Hey.” Kravitz says quietly, trying to sound casual despite laying on his floor after getting tentacled by his own bed covers.

“Mmh. ‘s cold.” Taako mutters and shuffles, zombie-like, to Kravitz’s bed and gracelessly flops down onto it. Kravitz fights his way out of the blankets and gets up to his knees to peer at the elf sprawled across his bed.

“Uh, Taako?”

He gets an unintelligible mumble, muffled by the mattress, in response.

“Are you… Are you gonna go back to your room?” Kravitz asks, standing up, holding his blankets in one hand.

“Nnn.” Taako whines. He doesn’t get up, but at least he rolls over slightly to make some space for Kravitz in his own bed.

“Okay. Okay, I guess this is happening.” Kravitz says under his breath and throws one of the blankets on top of Taako who makes a pleased little noise and burrows under it.

Kravitz settles down next to him, being extremely conscious of their proximity and taking extreme care not to brush against the Taako-shaped lump under the covers.

He lays there, stiff as a board, eyes closed and breathing manually but eventually he manages to fall asleep.

Until he wakes up again, for the third time. Unsure what woke him up, he opens his eyes and finds himself laying on his side, face-to-face with Taako who is wide awake and whose face blooms intense red as Kravitz catches his eye.

He’s really close and Kravitz feels his own cheeks heating up. Taako’s breath hitches and they stare at each other with wide eyes.

Kravitz clears his throat, and whispers, “Hey.”

“Hey.” Taako breathes. “Sorry I crashed on your bed.”

“‘s okay.” Kravitz mumbles, blinking heavily, because he has had about a wink of sleep and he still needs to get up early. He can’t remember the last time he was this tired. “You can stay if you want.” Kravitz’s eyes fall shut.

There’s a beat of silence, before Taako says, “For realsies?” And Kravitz smiles, already half asleep. “For realsies.”

I kinda wanged it at the end there I couldn’t think of anything good :(

#taz #taakitz #taz fanfic #taaswrites

[carbonated-chicken-broth]

Happy Valentine’s Day || Gabriel x Reader

Gabe is my favorite l'il angel and I had to write about him because I can see him as one of those “boyfriends” that goes all out on Valentine’s Day with one of those massive Teddy Bears and a fuck-ton of chocolate.

Type: Fluff (I know, I know, but I'm in a cutesy mood so suck it horn dogs!)

Reader Gender: Female 

Warnings: Kissing...? Also Gabriel in general, so innuendos and all that jazz. Oh, and language. And cliché.

Word Count: 2,000+

    "I think I'm gonna clock out!" you called over your shoulder to Sam, who was set up in his usual spot at the long wooden table in the dining/research room, immersed in whatever was on the screen.

    He hummed in response, taking his eyes off his laptop for a moment to direct his steely gaze at you through those wise-looking eyes of his. "Not gonna go...um...wipe some broken hearts off the bar floor?" he teased, quirking one eyebrow as his scruff-lined lips twisted into a smile.

    You chuckled sleepily and shook your head, noting how your joints cracked and realigned at even the smallest movement. "I'll pass. Dean can get enough work done out there for the both of us. Besides," you added as an afterthought, "I'm tired as hell."

    "I hear you," Sam responded quietly, sinking back into his work.

    You sighed heavily and plodded down the semi-elegant hallway to your room, stretching your arms over your head as you went and letting out a satisfied groan when something popped. All you wanted was a nice, warm shower, and maybe some peace and quiet. Maybe even a beer and a movie if you got bored. Yeah, some BAB sounded great right about then. It was Valentine’s Day, after all. Great day for porn.

   With that thought in mind, you swung open the large, mahogany door with the intent of flopping uninterrupted onto your bed when-

    "And how's the cutest little human in the world?"

    "Gabriel! Get out of my room!"

    There he was, the peskiest of the four archangels, sprawled out on your covers with a wide grin etched across his handsome face.

    "How about no?" he snickered, sitting up and smirking. "Besides, it's Valentine's Day!" he added enthusiastically, opening his arms as if to augment his stating of the obvious. "What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn't stop in on my favorite human to give 'em a proper date?"

    You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose, irritated beyond belief and sensing the stirrings of a migraine. "You're not my boyfriend, Gabriel. And I'm really not in the mood to deal with your shit right now. I just wanna take a shower and lie down and maybe get some shut-eye before Dean comes back with someone and makes sleep impossible."

    Raising one eyebrow, the smirking archangel sat forward, his whiskey eyes gazing straight into yours with an air of smug unpredictability that had the reverse affect on his counter. "Mind if I join you?"

    "Fuck off, Feathers."

    "Rude," he pouted, cuing yet another eye-roll.

    "What do you want, Gabriel?" you asked sharply, crossing your arms and lifting your chin in an attempt to convey a semblance of confidence, even though his presence made your insides squirm like worms on LSD.

    "You, naked, covered in rose petals,” he chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively in a way that never failed to make your heart do a little dance (often a frantic sort of “OH SHIT THOSE ARE SOME SEXY EYEBROWS” jig).

    You felt heat creep up your neck and gritted your teeth, balling your hands into fists. "Gabriel, I swear if you’re-"

    "It's just a joke, Sweetcheeks!" he exclaimed, holding his hands up in surrender, before muttering, "I'd prefer syrup, anyway. Sweeter."

    "Gabe..."

    "Fine," he sighed, his smirk softening to a smile, "I'm here to help you loosen up a bit. You look tense."

    "Yeah, I wonder why!"

    "Aw, c'mon," he whined, scooting to the edge of your bed and pouting up at you. "All I wanna do is cuddle! I won't bother you for the rest of February if you say yes." At least he was asking for consent. How generous.

   "You're bribing me now?" you snorted, trying to sound casually annoyed to hide how flattered you were by him. He always did that to you; he twisted you into confused knots until you didn't know how to feel. 

    It wasn’t as if being with him would be a huge issue. Dean wouldn’t like it – he hated Gabriel, even more so after the T.V. land escapade – but after a while, he’d adjust. Sam wouldn’t be so vocal about his distaste, probably even supportive. He was already third wheeling one frustrating couple. What could be the harm in adding another?

   No, the problem was with you. You didn’t want to tie yourself down to an archangel if it only meant a quick (though undoubtedly amazing) fuck and decades of heartbreak. He was so wild, you doubted he’d be up for a long-term relationship, and you weren’t sure you could handle a one-night-stand, as tempting as that option was.

    Gabriel’s eyes twinkled, intrigue written across his face. He had an air of smugness that tended to linger around him but seemed unfounded at that moment. Quickly (and suspiciously), he cut off your thoughts: "Is it working?"

    "Nope," you lied, walking over to your dresser to give yourself something to do other than stand awkwardly and in a state of slowly depleting gobsmackery in the doorway. If you were going to have to deal with Gabriel, you would definitely be dealing with him in comfy clothes.

    "Why are you making me work so harrrrrrd?" the ever-childish archangel whined, tilting his head and watching you open one of the mahogany drawers and rummage around.

    Sifting through your clothes, you groaned again, pulling out one of Sam's giant flannels (red-checked and soft) you’d stolen a while back. Winchester clothing was just more comfortable; even their boxers. You were tentative about wearing men’s underwear in front of the perverted archangel stationed on your bed but you know what they say: fuck it.

    "Because giving you what you want is like feeding the animals," you said distractedly, moving to your bathroom door (you had one separate from the boys’ because they took long showers and sometimes menstruation couldn’t wait an hour) and calling over your shoulder, "We cuddle once and then you never leave me alone!"

   You could feel his eyes drilling into you as you slipped inside, carefully locking the door behind you even though his bothering to use it would only be out of courtesy and therefore very unlikely. You waited for a few seconds in case Gabriel was planning on breaking in, before pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it on the sink.

    Lo’ and behold, there came the flutter of wings from directly behind you, the cool breeze from invisible wings tickling your nearly bare back. "But I just wanna cu- wow you are...wow."

    You blushed heavily and spun around, ready to give him a piece of your mind, only to realize that he could see straight down your bra. With a yelp, you grabbed the first thing you saw – a towel hanging on the door behind him – and held it against your practically naked torso. "Gabriel, what the hell!?"

    "I just wanted to keep talking to you," he whined, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief and other emotions that you could recognize but didn't want to name.

    "So you came into the bathroom with me?!"

    "What's wrong with that?"

    "You're joking," you told him flatly, agitated, "You see nothing wrong with this? I'm half fucking naked, Gabriel!"

    "I noticed," the archangel smirked, wiggling his eyebrows again. "You're hotter than I imagined."

    "Than you imagined?" you snapped, your face flushing, "The hell is that supposed to mean?!" Oh God, did he…holy fuck, did he get off thinking about you? Christ, you couldn’t win with him!

    "Oh, you know what it means, Sugar~" Gabriel purred, taking a few steps forward so that his chest brushed against your forearms which pinned the towel to your quivering body.

    You blushed furiously, your eyes widening as you gazed breathlessly up at him. A strangled moan clawed its way out of your throat and past your clamped lips. After a beat, you finally found your voice, or some of it. "Shut up, Asshat!" you growled, wrinkling your nose and taking a step back.

    "Make me~"

    "Okay!" you snapped, stepping around him, "I get that it's Valentine's Day but I’m really not in the mood!"

    Gabriel sighed, gazing after you as you opened the door and slipped out, pulling the giant, tunic-like flannel over your scatterbrained head to hide your torso. ‘Sexy fucking angel,’ you thought, remembering vividly the way he could morph from innocent puppy-dog to I'm-gonna-fuck-you-'til-you-can't-walk in under a second. ‘What gives him the right.’

    "I just wanna help you relax," he whined (a tone he’d been taking quite a lot lately), watching you flop down on your bed and moving to sit on the end.

    "Leave me alone," you commanded, burying your face in the pillow and shutting your eyes right. You felt the bed creak next to you and you turned your head, coming eye to whiskey eye with the pesky archangel.

    "No."

    You groaned, turning your face to hide a blush as your heart fluttered from the proximity of his body to yours. Finally, you got up the courage to say it. "Fine."

    A grin spread across Gabriel's face. "What made you change your mind all of the sudden?" he asked innocently, the smirk on his face audible to your reddening ears.

    "Shut up."

    "Aww," he chuckled, his arm snaking around your waist as he pulled you against his chest, "Have I ever told you how cute you are when you're pissed off?"

    You gritted your teeth and rolled your eyes, your mind on hyper-alert as he pressed closer, breath dancing over your neck. "Every damn time you see me," you snapped agitatedly. It was true, you had a tendency to get riled up when he was around, for obvious reasons. He seemed to find it amusing, which did nothing to help your flustered state.

    "You really are adorable," he said, sounding almost genuine.

   You blushed and shook your head, glaring at him over your shoulder as your heart did backflips. "I am not, Gabriel!" It sounded so childish you had to fight to keep from cringing.

    "Don't deny it," Gabriel chuckled, poking you nose. "See? You're like a kitten dumped in ice water. I just wanna hug you and kiss every inch of your skin and listen to your voice say my name over and over and over again..." He sighed, taking in a breath and pulling back a bit, gazing adoringly at you.

    Your face felt like it was on fire from all the heat rushing through it, and your eyes were wide as saucers.

    "I-I...uhm...I mean that's-wow..."

    The archangel's eyes twinkled mischievously, and he leaned in to press his forehead against yours, whispering, "Plus, you're adorable when you're flustered."

    You swore you thought your heart stopped for a second. It skipped a beat or two — or five — at his words.

    He chewed his lip, waiting for a response of some sort, of which you seemed incapable. You gazed at him like a tourist at the Statue of Liberty, your eyes wide and your lips parted as thoughts rushed through your mind like hot pockets through someone's dietary tract.

    His stare was what caught you; his deep golden-brown eyes simultaneously grounded you in reality and sent you off on tangents of mental fantasy.

    "So, are you gonna kiss me or not?"

    Gabe's mouth dropped open; it was his turn to look dumbfounded. "What, (Y/N)?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

    You rolled your eyes. "You wore me down, okay? You win. Now do me a favor and finish what you started!"

    A smile spread across his handsome features as he lifted himself up on one arm and cupped your face with his hand. Gently, he drew your lips up to his. Your lips met and instantly you felt right, somehow. Complete. You could feel heat radiating off of him, like somewhere inside him was a burning fire; his grace. Softly, his lips moved against yours as his fingers dragging up to card through your hair. A small gasp rose in your throat. It was magical, caring, even loving.

    You stayed there, frozen in his arms, for a few minutes before realizing that sometime soon, you’d need to breathe. Pulling back, you gasped, your chest heaving against his. "Oh, I forgot," he chuckled.

    "What?" you asked incredulously, breathless, "To breathe?"

    "Maybe..."

    "Christ, Gabe," you groaned, glaring at him with amusement dancing in your features. "How have you survived this long?"

    Gabriel shrugged, grinning sheepishly. You knew that he was set on you being the adorable one, but the way he smiled was pretty damn cute. His eyes crinkled slightly, shining like pools of liquid gold. It struck you how just last year the pair of you had been enemies, and now there you were, lying in bed with him. The bed you had just kissed in.

    "You're hopeless," you sighed, resting your head back on the pillow.

    He tilted his head, propping himself up to glare jokingly down at you. "Ouch. Harsh."

    "But accurate, Mr. Century-Old-Archangel."

    ‘Mr. Century-Old-Archangel’ chuckled, pulling you closer with one arm and brushing a few wayward strands of hair out of your face. "Cutie."

    "I'm not cute!"

    "Whatever you say, Sugar. Happy Valentine’s Day."

    "You too, Gabe."

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

Yeah, yeah, it’s super cliché. It’s Valentine’s Day. Deal. Have a swell day/afternoon/evening/night/whatever else! Happy Valentine’s Day!

~Ev

#Gabriel x reader #supernatural #Happy Valentine's Day #my-weirdassart-fandomtrash #gabriel/reader #cliche #also old work #so that's my excuse for cheesiness #also im a hopeless romantic #slave to my muse #no this is a lie i just want to cuddle gabe on valentine's day and you shouldn't judge me for it

[tony-in-a-tin-can]

Starstruck Au for Sina’s Birthday!

Notes: This is for you Sina @fushibi​ this is only the starting of my Starstruck AU, hopefully I work further on it and finish it I had to change up the story to fit a bit, so instead of visiting their grandma it’s regular aunt Nat, and Steve’s the older sibling instead but it mostly stays the same at the point where Nat calls Peter something in russian it’s supposed to be little spider but I don’t actually know any russian so I had to use google translate and then for the second half of the fic my editor wasn’t really available so any spelling mistakes will be fixed when i post this one AO3 anyways HAPPY BIRTHDAY SINA!!!!!

“There’s something about the sunshine baby, I’m seeing you in a whole new light.” Steve turned in his bed, placing his pillow over his ears in an attempt to block out the voice crooning, making its way through the walls. Finally, he glanced at his previous failed attempts of headphones, and extra strength earplugs and made up his mind. Enough was enough, it was a Saturday for fuck’s sake. No, this madness had gone on long enough, it had to end. Steve irritably drew himself out of the warm comforts of his bed, and stormed over to his adopted brother’s door, angrily wrenching it open.

   “At what ungodly hour are you playing that-that”, Steve sputtered angrily. Peter didn’t even bother pausing the song just turned to give a cool glance.

   “It’s Tony Stark’s new song, and I have to memorize the words still,” he turned his attention back to his laptop. “Plus, it’s not that early, only ten aren’t you the one who’s always telling me waking up early is the key to a healthy lifestyle. Thinking back, it was true, he had told him that repeatedly but getting It thrown back in his face the first day of Spring Break, after working three seven-hour shifts, and studying for five midterm exams was not what he needed. Before Steve could muster a frustrated enough response, Peter replied.

   “We leave for the airport at eleven anyways, if you woke any later you’d be running around late,” he mumbled a “like always,” quietly enough that Steve couldn’t hear. Steve stormed out without response, crashing back into his bed and groaning. He still needed like a gazillion hours of sleep to be back to normal, positive, clumsy Steve. He was not looking forward to the vacation at all.

Sure, he’d love to visit Aunt Nat, in sunny California but he was less ecstatic about being dragged around by his younger brother looking for Tony Stark. Nat just had to live in the same state, and general area as all of Stark’s damn haunts. And of course, because Peter needed a ride, and his puppy eyes could work on the Devil he was gonna be dragged around.

It wasn’t that Steve hated Tony Stark or something, but well yes that’s exactly how he felt about him. He was on all the news channels as this arrogant narcissistic ass. Just looking at him he could tell he was as fake as half of the celebrities on TV. Normally Steve wouldn’t care but Peter idolized him and played his music on repeat any chance he got.

If Steve had his way, it’d be a lovely vacation of going to the beach and helping his favourite aunt in the garden. Groaning once more he turned, flopping over on the bed. This was shaping up to be less of the break he needed, and more of the break that would haunt him.

Tony hated meetings, they involved a whole lot of sitting there talking, and not a whole lot of anything else. Most of his attention was focused on that damn swinging stick sculpture on Pepper’s desk. He didn’t even realize the others were talking to him until a sharp voice called out “Tony,” and he jumped as he felt a sharp pinch to his leg.

Obadiah gave a strained smile while Pepper looked on in concern. “Are you alright?” He nodded and gave her a smile.

“Now as I was saying,” a gruff voice drew his attention to the video screen where one Nicholas J. Fury sat waiting impatiently eyepatch and everything. Personally, he found the whole eyepatch thing dramatic, but Pepper had made him promise not to ask. “We want you in our movie, we truly do Anthony,” and he cringed, hearing Anthony just made him feel like he was in trouble as a little kid again. “Thing is we need to know you’re grown up, and mature enough to handle working with S.H.I.E.L.D Studios so we’re going to have to ask you to prove it.”

There was a sinking feeling in Tony’s stomach “how?”

“One week, no tabloids if you can do that then we can go ahead with you as our lead.” Before anyone could respond his screen cut to black, and everyone visibly relaxed.

Obadiah barely glanced back at him as he went on his way, only pausing to tell him “don’t fuck anything up.”

Pepper scowled following after him as he left her office, Tony knew most PA’s didn’t get their own but she worked damn well hard enough and deserved it “Why you continue to let him be your agent I’ll never understand,” Tony shrugged in response.

“Probably something around he’s the closest living relative I have who gives a damn,” Pepper’s answering look needed no words.

“You know what no tabloids means though right?” When he looked at her blankly she sighed, “it means that you are going to have to skip out on your. beloved Tiberius’ birthday appearance,” she made a face as she said his name.

Realization took hold and he slumped over the desk, “Pep, you gotta help me.”

“I don’t gotta do anything-“

Before she could continue he cut her off with “I’ll get you those Miu Miu Mary Jane’s you have bookmarked, and before you ask yes I did peek through your bookmarks but only, so I know what to bribe you with.” He could tell she wasn’t completely swayed, “I’ll throw in those other Miu Miu pumps you had with the crystals on the heels.”

She reluctantly shook his hand, “fine but I’ll find a way for Rhodey to sneak you in, but only because if I don’t you’ll find a worse way to do it.”

   Aunt Nat was working in her front yard when they arrived, and she wasn't alone. Making sure she didn't fall was a tall man with long, brown hair tied up in a bun. Their mom turned from the front seat to share a look with both Peter, and Steve before stepping out of the car. “Nat!” The redhead got up, quickly dusting herself off, before rushing forward to greet them.

“Sarah, Peter, Steve!” she had her arms open for a hug from all of them. For a moment they were all squished together in each others arms. As soon as they released each other she began the rapid fire interrogation asking “How is school? How are your friends?” 

 Sarah motioned towards the man who just stood there watching, “so do we get an introduction or?” Nat started which was strange, she was usually so on top of everything.

“Of course this is James, but he usually goes by Bucky he’s my neighbour” she waved him forward.

“Nice to meet all of you, Tasha’s been talking about you forever” he shook hands with all of them, but his other arm hung by his side limply. It took a moment for Steve to realize that it was a prosthetic. 

 “Oh and Steve?” he looked at her, “I don’t really drive but I know you two might wanna go sightseeing or something so here’s the keys to the Black Widow.” He glanced in the driveway only finding a garish, ancient looking, pink car that seemed to be the ‘Black Widow’ she was referencing. Peter followed his eyes, and let out a loud groan, as the adults continued to talk ignoring the two boys.

“So?” Peter popped his head interrupting whatever conversation the two sisters had been having. “Dinner?”

Nat ruffled his hair, “of course маленький паук” and she led them inside.

A little while later Steve laid down on his bed perfectly ready to enter a food coma. Nat had never really been big on cooking, prefering to order out when needed but her new friend was amazing in the kitchen. Who knew something as simple as burgers could become so much more? “STEVE!” He groaned, was one moment of peace, and quiet really too much to ask for? “Steve where are you?!” Peter ran around looking for him, and almost passed by his open room before stopping. “Steve there you are” he immediately grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him out.

“Hold on, hold on what's this whole rush Pete?” He didn't get an answer at first as Peter gave up on dragging him, and ran around throwing his shoes and hoodies at him. “Liz told Ned who texted me that she heard on the Tony Stark updates twitter that he’s supposed to perform at Tiberius Stone’s birthday party, i need to be there.” Steve paused in between putting on the shoes that Peter had chucked at him.

“And why isn’t mom being dragged around for this?” Peter stared at him like he just said something stupid.

“Because as far as she knows we’re going last minute sightseeing jeez Steve keep up.”

“Ok, ok so when did i agree to drive you to this whatever it is?” Peter gave him one of his sad puppy dog looks. Steve looked anywhere but his face, but he broke soon enough. Only someone without a soul could withstand those eyes. “Fine.” It was like selling his soul, but it was almost worth the way Peter’s eyes lit up. 

“Here stop here Steve”

“Peter this is a no parking zone.” the puppy dog eyes were back on him within minutes.

“Just stay in the car, then it’s not parking it’s waiting.” Steve rolled his eyes at the flawed logic but it was too late as Peter scrambled to get out of the car. “Thanks Steve, you're the best big brother i ever could’ve asked for,” he rolled his eyes but still smiled.

“I think I’ve changed my mind, I’m not sure if this is such a good idea anymore Tones”

“Rhodey, honey bear, platypus...wait I lost my train of thought there.” Rhodey rolled his eyes at his best friend’s usual antics. “Seriously though it’ll be finem besides you know Ty’ll get if i skip his birthday performance.”

Rhodey frowned, “yeah we all know how he gets” he muttered under his breath. It was no secret that both Rhodey, and Pepper seemed to hate his boyfriend. It was just something they’d have to learn to deal with.  “Look we shouldn't be here, we should be at the party Obadiah’s throwing you know he’d kill you if he knew you snuck out.”

Tony rolled his eyes this time, “since when do you wanna hang out with Obadiah?”

“Dude you have got to be kidding the caterers amazing, I heard there’s gonna be steak...for dessert.”

Tony thought about for a moment before replying with “can’t say I’m not tempted but I’m not that tempted besides i can’t let a friend down, haven't let you down since we met in fourth grade have I?”

“I mean you’ve probably let me down a lot of times if i think about it.”

Tony stuck his fingers in his ears, “lalalala I’m not listening.”

“Ok fine let’s do this.”

Rhodey pulled up to the paparazzi surrounded 21&under club minus one best friend. “Tiberius my man,” he pulled the blonde into a hug.

“Where is Tony?” he demanded through gritted teeth.

He pulled back to loudly announce to both Tiberius and the paparazzi, “He’s at home eating steak, come on let’s go talk inside.” As he led him inside they were both ambushed by a brunette teen who clung to him, and followed them in.

“Do you know this kid?” Tiberius asked as they were led in.

“No idea but he sure seems to know me.”

Steve watched all this from the car and sighed. “I’m going to be stuck here forever,” he declared to no one before slumping forward.

Tony looked around carefully before knocking on the back entrance door. He wasn't waiting long, and Rhodey opened up the door to meet him. “Told you we could pull it off.”

Rhodey grinned back fro once, “yeah yeah, what would you do without me?” He handed him his stage outfit as both boys ran up the stairs.

“We have a special guest here tonight,” Tony grinned bouncing with energy, “Tony Stark!” He made his way onto the stage, where he was met by cheers. He spotted Tiberius in the crowd looking confused, but altogether pleased, and blew a kiss his way. He looked out over the crowd clapping to the beat once more before starting to sing.

“No you can't see me, No you can't meet me, Yeah I'm on my game, That's right I'm in my shades, See the cameras flashing , Anybody, any time for action, You're the main attraction, Hey, in my shades, Pull up in my spot looking hot everybody knows, Don't got no stress in my head cause stress don't fly in my fancy clothes, Yeah, they want to take my picture, Watch out those lights'll get ya , And they're calling your name, That's where I put on my frames, I tell them watch me now, Lil mama how you like me now, On the dance floor we can work it out and bring this whole place down, Gotta stand up hands up, Big boy's in a stance like hey what?, So get on the floor, Show them what you came here for, No you can't see me, No you can't meet me , Yeah I'm on my game, That's right I'm in my shades, See the cameras flashing, Anybody any time for action, You're the main attraction, Hey, In my shades,” he paused as Rhodey jumped onstage for his bit.

“Uh, Wanna watch me watch this, And when you watch TV, watch Tony, Got to have the whole place jumping, Cameras flashing and you know the bass pumping, Shades on like a rock star, And I'm busting out the best moves so far, Feel the air from the speakers, So so fresh from my head to my sneakers, Turn the beat up on the radio, I'm a keep the frames till I'm ready go, Till I'm gone I is, You ain't never ever heard a song like this, Get your brain on, better get some ideas, Maybe you should holler at your boy right here, And if the girl want to get crazy, You can find me in my shades,”

Rhodey handed the mike back to him, “No you can't see me, No you can't meet me, Yeah I'm on my game, That's right I'm in my shades, See the cameras flashing, Anybody any time for action, You're the main attraction, Hey, in my shades, No you can't see me, No you can't meet me, Yeah I'm on my game, That's right I'm in my shades, See the cameras flashing, Anybody any time for action, You're the main attraction, Hey, in my shades”

He paused for a moment, letting the sounds of the crowd overtake him, before blowing another kiss to Ty. “Happy Birthday Ty, and goodnight folks.”

Steve stared at the monitor across the street, he actually showed up huh. The more important part was that he’d been off for a good twenty minutes, and Peter was nowhere to be seen. With a sigh he unbuckled his seat belt. Peter better have a good excuse. He stalked across the busy street and stared at the long line to get in. Yeah that wasn't going to work. He made his way ‘round the building, finally finding the backdoor. Just as Steve reached it, it opened and hit him surprisingly hard. He winced holding his head, “ow.”

“Crap did I just hit you,” the stranger got down to inspect his wound.

“No the door just opened by himself,” he replied sarcastically.

“Oh crap, oh no this is not good,”

“Yeah well as the person you hit it sucks from down here as well.”

“Gahh i should’ve listened to Rhodey this is really not good,” he was talking more to himself at this point. Annoyed Steve glared at him harder, and something clicked in his head

“Wait, you’re To-” he was cut off by Tony gagging him with his hand. Oh what Peter would give to be in his shoes, and what he would give for that to be the situation as well.

“I’ll give you as many free tickets, and backstage passes to my next concert if you don't scream my name right now.”

Steve pushed his hand away, “I don’t want to see your stupid concert,” he poked his head checking for a bruise, “ow.”

“Ok so you definitely need a doctor right away,” before Steve could reply he was motioning someone over. “Rhodey!” He flinched as the bright glare of headlights made his headache worse. “Ok come on, let's go, there we go,” he helped Steve up which was harder than normal as dizziness took hold. 

 “But, Peter?” he managed through the thick fog in his head. 

 “Who?” He continued to lead him towards the slate grey sports car waiting for them. 

 “My little brother, he’s up in the club somewhere, dragged me with”

 As they approached the car’s driver got out, “Ok so this does not look good, Tones what the hell happened?”

“I’ll tell you later, just help me get him to the car I think he’s concussed.” The man - Rhodey, Tony had called him gently led him to the car opening the door.

“Wait so who is this?”

“Seatbelt,” it took Steve a moment for him to realize Tony was talking to him. “Also yeah what is your name?”

He scowled buckling himself in, “Steve.”

“Well Steve nice to meet you.”

He snorted in response, “yeah I can think of nicer ways.” Another scowl as Tony flashed a charming smile at him, brown eyes softening almost theatrically. On second thought, “I don’t feel so good,” he tried to quell the wave of nausea that rose up.

“Hey there Steve do not throw up in War Machine she’s my baby, and i just got her fixed up.”

He barely managed to mumble a, “alright then,” before he leaned out of the door, and threw up onto what he had thought was the ground. Unfortunately it wasn't the pavement.

“My shoes!” he mumbled a sorry while wiping his mouth.

“Oh fuck, um I’ll get you new ones pass the keys please,” there was a soft jingle above him. “Also can you please take care of his younger brother Peter, he’s in the club somewhere. Oh and Rhodey please don't tell anyone about this.” Rhodey groaned over the state of his shoes but nodded. And then they were off.

#@me #kiran writes #my fics #happy birthday sina #starstruck au #fanfiction #tony stark #steve rogers #stony #marvel #ironman #captain america

[bnheadcanons-scenarios]

I got a prompt. maybe everyone forgets it's kirishima's birthday except bakugou n like baku leaves a gift or card or something for him that says "happy birthday shitty hair

lowkey this got away from me I’m sorry lolol but yesss bless you! And happy birthday Kiri

—

Kirishima usually always woke up in a good mood. He enjoyed the mornings; they were quiet and peaceful and he was always productive during the first hours of the day.

However, this particular morning was different.

He smiled as he turned off his alarm, glancing at the date on his phone before getting up to start his usual routine. He felt an abnormal amount of energy surge through his body as he changed into his workout clothes, slipping on his favorite pair of running shoes before leaving his dorm and going on his usual morning run, repeating the same thought in his mind.

It’s my birthday!

–

This overabundance of energy did not dissipate after his run nor as he showered and got ready for class. Actually, he seemed to be getting more and more excited as the minutes passed.

His entire body buzzed as he walked down the halls, greeting everyone he passed with a bright smile on his face.

“Yo Kiri!” He turned around to see Kaminari jog up to him, falling in step together as they continued their way to class.

“Hey Kami! Great day isn’t it?”

“Wow what’s got you all happy today?”

His smile faltered slightly but managed to keep his lips turned up. “I’ll give you three guesses bro.”

“Shit man you know I’m bad at guessing.”

“It’s true!” Both boys turned when they heard a high-pitched voice come from behind, both jumping slightly as Mina wedged herself between them, throwing her arms over their shoulders. “Wait, what are we talking about?”

“Just why Kiri is happy.”

“Oh, he’s always happy though! Did you fry more brain cells Kami?”

“What! No!”

Kirishima listened to his friends banter as he walked with them, chest slightly tightening at the thought that popped up.

They forgot my birthday.

–

Kirishima tried to shake off the fact that two of his best friends seemingly forgot about his birthday. Maybe they’re tricking me? Yeah! That has to be it! They’re probably planning a surprise party or something. He snapped out of his thoughts when people started to talk amongst themselves, realizing then that he wasn’t paying attention to Aizawa’s lecture whatsoever.

Leaning over his desk, he tapped Kaminari on the shoulder, pulling the other away from his conversation with Jirou. “Hey man, what are we doing?”

Kaminari blinked at him  for a moment. “Dude were you not paying attention? Are you feeling okay?” He tried to reach out his hand to feel Kirishima’s forehead but the redhead gently swatted it away.

“No dude I’m fine,” he gave a reassuring smile. “But seriously, what’s going on?”

“Partner research paper over the reason and effectiveness over one of the hero laws.”

“Ah okay. Wanna be partners?”

Kaminari gave him a guilty look and spoke quietly. “Sorry Kiri, I told Sero last time that I would work with him.” He stood up and gave Kirishima’s shoulder a pat. “Sorry again bro but I think Bakugou still needs a partner!”

Kirishima looked over to Bakugou who was just staring out the window, not caring about what was happening around him.

He took a deep breath and plastered on a smile before standing and walking over to the blonde’s desk. “Hey Bakugou!” he exclaimed with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. He watched as the other turned around, signature scowl on his face.

“The fuck do you want, shitty hair.”

“Be my partner?” When he didn’t receive an answer he started to panic slightly. “For the project!”

“And why the fuck would I want to work with you on this shit?”

“Because I need a partner and you need a partner!”

“What makes you think I need a damn partner dipshit?!” Kirishima took another deep breath.

“Come on man please?” He clapped his hands together in mock prayer, staring at Bakugou whose gaze was locked onto his.

“You better not fucking slack off. I won’t fail because your dumbass isn’t smart enough to do a simple ass research paper, shitty hair.”

Kirishima beamed at him. “Thanks man! I owe you!”

“Fucking whatever.” Kirishima swore he saw a faint trace of a blush on the other’s cheeks. He watched as Bakugou packed up his bag and started to head towards the door. Kirishima just stood there, confusion evident on his face as he watched Bakugou’s retreating form.

“Are you fucking coming dumbass?” Kirishima’s head snapped up at the other’s harsh voice.

“Where?”

“The fucking library, where else?” Kirishima smiled and grabbed his things to follow Bakugou.

–

They studied together for a few hours. Well, more like Bakugou yelled and Kirishima felt like he was about ready to pull out all of his hair with how stressful it was.

Once their research session was over, Kirishima dragged himself back to his dorm room, feeling more physically drained now than he did after his run.

“Yo Kiri, you look dead.” Kirishima stopped walking as Sero walked up to him, concern etched onto the other’s face.

“Yeah thanks Sero.”

The other seemed to think for a moment. “Hey, if you want, Tetsutetsu from 1-B is throwing a birthday party. It might make you feel better!”

The redhead felt a sharp pang in his chest and tried to hold back a choked noise that threatened to escape.

Oh yeah…it’s my birthday…and no one remembered.

He forced a smile. “Nah man it’s cool. I just need to rest a little and I’ll be good as new!”

He knew his excuse was weak at best but he hoped that the other would look through it. He started to shift nervously on his feet as Sero seemed to analyze his entire being. The other shrugged eventually.

“Alright man I hope you get rest!” He wandered off down the way Kirishima had just came from and, again, the redhead found himself alone.

Sighing, he continued to his room, mind moving a mile a minute. He mulled over why none of his friends remembered his birthday, the topic eventually leading to him thinking about what his family used to do for him every year on his birthday.

He smiled softly at the memory of breakfast in bed, full of all of his favorite breakfast foods, which led to a multitude of activities, all of which he did with his parents. He specifically remembered his birthday two years ago and the paintball incident and couldn’t help but chuckle.

All of his memories seemed to flood back at once, leaving him feeling slightly empty inside.

He sighed again, finally reaching his dorm room. He opened the door not-so-gently, cringing as the doorknob ricocheted against the wall. He threw his school supplies randomly in his room, feeling to exhausted to actually put anything away properly and flopped down on his bed, face first.

He laid like that for a few minutes, eyes closed and trying to relax. He gave up a few minutes later, huffing and pushing himself to sit up. He cracked his eyes open and stared at his backpack like it personally offended him. Something was sticking out of one of the compartments and Kirishima eyed it with curiosity.

He stood and walked over, carefully picking up the paper. Upon further inspection, he saw that it was a letter. He turned it over in his hands, admiring the way his name was written with such perfectly practiced calligraphy on the backside, fingers gently ghosting over the ink.

Gently, he turned it back over and peeled up the flap, careful not to rip the envelope or whatever was inside. He pulled out the letter portion, noticing that it was on fancy, customized paper. However, it was not the paper that caught his eye but rather the note written on it. Immediately, he knew who sent it.

Happy Birthday shitty hair Kirishima

Kirishima read over that very brief and simple line many times, feeling warmth spread through his entire being. He walked out of his room and next door to Bakugou’s, eyes never leaving the paper even as he knocked on the door. He didn’t even realize that the other had opened the door at first.

“Go away shitty hair.” He looked up in time to see Bakugou attempting to lose the door.

“Wait!” Kirishima shoved his arm through the door and activated his quirk, successfully stopping Bakugou from shutting him out. The other opened the door wider and glared at Kirishima.

“Now what the fuck do you want?” Kirishima held up the letter but didn’t say anything. Bakugou crossed his arms, leaned against the doorframe, and gave the other an incredulous look. “Of you’re not going to speak then get the fuck out asshole. I need to do shit and it doesn’t involve y-”

“Thank you,” Kirishima interrupted. Bakugou raised an eyebrow, prompting the other to continue. “For the letter. It means a lot to me.”

“It was just a stupid fucking letter. I bet your other shitty friends got you better crap anyway so go pester them.” Bakugou turned to walk further into his room.

“Actually, everyone else forgot.” The other froze, Kirishima’s words causing him to turn back around. “You’re the only one that remembered. Even my parents haven’t called yet actually.” He could hear the sadness in his own voice, too upset to actually care as all his emotions from the day crashed down on him at once.

“Well I was right about them being shitty ass friends.” Kirishima chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Is that fucking it?”

“I-uh…yeah? I just wanted to tell you how much it means to me that you care.”

“Tch nobody said I fucking care. Now leave.” Bakugou swung the door shut hard, causing Kirishima to flinch back due to the sound. He stared at the door for a moment longer before looking back down at the note, a smile taking over his features as he started to feel happier.

I’m glad Bakugou remembered.

#kingshadows1001 #yasss bro thank! #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #bakugou x kirishima #bakushima #kiribaku #happy birthday kirishima #bnha scenarios #scenario #my fic #bnha fic #fic #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #prompt #answered #my writing