#i may have been replaying the game and opening up the wounds again yes

[grim-echoes]

under kinder circumstances there would have been no regrets

#my art #jatpm #jimmy and the pulsating mass #jimmy and the pulsating mass spoilers #<- evil shadow skull buck content #really didn't feel like coloring these so you get bw chromab yet again #i may have been replaying the game and opening up the wounds again yes

[eureka-its-zico]

Irrevocably Yours Pt. 2

Part 1 

Request: hey! can i request a scenario of jungkook being a rich kid who has some of his legs is leg failure , basically can't walk without a cane , And he falls in love with a normal girl , and they end up running away , happy ending plz , also if u can , LIT IT Up with smut ' thank u ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

A/N: So Part 2 is that slow burn build up (with possible cute moments?) and part 3 will be the actual SMUTTY goodness. Hopefully this is something cute and fluffy that is enjoyable and helps progress the story a little more so when a full length next part of a bunch of smut comes it all makes sense. Or idk anymore lol I edited this thing four times and I just really hope you all like it  Please enjoy this wordy mess. I wasn’t sure how to properly write it out the end and yeah...I winged it. If it needs to be fixed lmk please!! As always, I hope you all enjoy. Much love, Jenn

P.s. when I wrote this I listened to Lauv’s “I Like Me Better,” and Pink Sweat$ Feat. Kehlani’s “At My Worst,” on repeat like crazy.

Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 15,496 (I know:it’s a hefty boy)

Genre: Fluffy/Smutty, slow burn, 

The next day at school you weren’t a hundred percent sure what was going to happen. And sure, maybe you did wake up from a dream replaying that moment in the mud. The ending is a little bit different. This time, dream you didn’t let your chance to kiss him go by. When the opportunity presented itself, and you were both looking at one another like before, you’d leaned forward and kissed him. You weren’t surprised to feel him kissing you back. 

You could still feel the ghost of the imagination of him leaning down to press his lips against yours. The way he leaned in; eyes soft with longing as his body leaned deeper in against you. The weight of him pressing you into the mud until you were sure an imprint of this moment would be there forever. This imaginary kiss you’d shared was sweet, chaste, and everything you could’ve hoped for. Deepening at the last second as your alarm blared you back into realty. 

It made you want to ring your hands through your hair in frustration. 

Your whole walk to school was nothing but foggy images of the dream on repeat. A mixture of yesterday’s events accompanied them with each frame until you weren’t sure which was the actual moments or what your head had created. I mean, you did know he didn’t kiss you, but...the look in his eyes. Maybe Jungkook hadn’t, but there was that moment you swore maybe he felt the painful comedic romance moment of it all too. 

All these unanswered what if’s you'd created had built an impossible chasm that seemed to stretch infinitely wider between you in your head. In the end, you were your own bully as your mind stayed up until three that morning playing out every scenario you could think of. Even the ones that ended with you probably reading everything wrong, because what did you know about body language? Or, more specifically, boys built like Jeon Jungkook.

It didn’t matter that you had two tests today and never finished your homework for home period, but what the hell. Nothing like hopelessly daydreaming about the boy who may or may not have flirted with you and harmonized along to songs with a hidden voice of an angel, am I right? And sure, a large part of your night was  spent chastising yourself half the time to remind you there was no way in hell Jungkook could feel that way towards you. Even just a little. Your inner monologue of bringing yourself back down to earth, another culprit in the growing list of reasons why none of your assignments were completed. 

What can you say? You were a mess.

Your only game plan you’d been able to agree on was just to daydream out the window. Writing out your own hapless love story starring the boy who sat across from you in the home room. With a silent plea to the universe that you weren’t called on to answer any questions. 

Your arrival at homeroom was met with barely seconds to spare. The bell rang behind you, and a few other students, as you rushed towards your desk. 

“Hurry, hurry to your seats! Or I’ll write you up as late!”

Mr. Choi was all talk. Everyone knew it and his excessive arm movements to rush every body that passed his desk made him look exactly like a conductor. His crazy movements were enough to distract you for a split second from the one person you were desperate to ignore. 

“Good morning, class. I hope you are all fully rested and awake for class this morning. Let’s have us open our books to page two hundred and forty-two and continue on with our lesson.” 

In unison the sound of backpacks unzipping with students reaching in their backpacks to bring out textbooks filled the class. The only person who didn’t currently have said book was holding his hand up, and seated directly across from you. 

“Yes, Jungkook?”

“Seonsaengnim, I’m sorry. I haven’t received my textbooks yet.”

“Ah, that’s alright, Jungkook. You can go ahead and share with Y/N, again.”

You hoped your face wasn’t giving away the panic you felt rising up to match the blush that was streaking across your cheeks. Jungkook’s hand was already on the leg of your desk. His fingers tips grazing across your knee in passing as his hand wrapped around the bar and used it to bring you closer to him. You kept your eyes glued to page two hundred and forty-three and refused to look in his direction. Jungkook seemed to find a way to remedy this; his hand came into view and grabbed hold of the book corner and slid it over to his side. And as if he was the world’s greatest magician, he now had your attention. 

Your eyes immediately shoot up to acknowledge his presence, instead of staying on the book. You knew that devilish smirk of his would be there to greet you even before you actually saw it. 

“Well, good morning to you too, Y/N.”

His voice practically hummed a tune as he spoke. His eyes heavily searched your face, and you prayed whatever he found wasn’t any lasting signs of rosy cheeks. 

“Good morning, Jungkook. I hope you slept well.”

“I slept very well, thank you.”

“That’s good-“

He cut you off fast, his next words a hush of teasing: “Even though some crazy girl tried to smother me in mud yesterday.” 

Your world narrowed in on his smug position in his chair, but quickly realized he just wanted your attention. The smile he wore softened around the edges as his eyes tried to look away from you and yet found their way back. You did your best to hide your smile and must have failed miserably for his face noticeably brightened. 

“I’m sure if that’s what she was doing - which I doubt - you probably deserved it.” 

Jungkook pretended to be wounded and caused you to practically jump out of your seat when his free hand landed on top of yours. 

“I can’t believe you think I deserve to be smothered,” he pouted. 

You rolled your eyes in a weak attempt to look away from him. Anything to not be swallowed up by how stupidly cute he looked in this exact moment. The fingers that held your pencil lazily tapping on the pages of the math book to bring his focus to something else that wasn’t you. 

“We need to pay attention.”

It was the only valuable excuse you could come up with to look away from him. But who were you kidding? You didn’t have to be looking in Jungkook’s direction to be painfully aware that he was there. His own gaze burned straight through you and left a trail of heat everywhere his eyes seemed to land. 

Right now, you were aware they were on your lips and stirring every emotion from your dream you tried to suppress. Plus, you weren’t being cute. Unless Jungkook found the sight of you chewing your bottom lip into dust attractive. 

It was a terrible nervous habit that seemed to only backfire right this second. You were sure he was ready to make a comment on it. You waited patiently for it to come in between you mindlessly copying equations off the board and the sea of arms flying up to answer whatever it was you’d just written. My gosh, you were trying so damn hard to not pay attention that you were doing nothing but paying attention to him. 

Please don’t let him just see I’m doodling. 

Mr. Choi was in the middle of showing how to work out a long equation when you decided it was safe to give Jungkook a glance. It was instantaneous how quickly you regretted it. 

You jumped back against your seat in a weak attempt to recover some space. You weren’t exactly sure how you’d missed it -missed him- getting so close, but you had. Jungkook’s face was mere inches from yours and it took everything to not show him you weren’t at all bothered. 

“Jungkook,” you whispered fiercely. “What.are.you.doing!”

Jungkook ignored your question. His eyes squinting as they looked around the side of your head. The gesture made you increasingly subconscious until you couldn’t keep your hand from going up to brush alongside it. 

“What? What is it?”

You were expecting the worst. 

“I think I see some mud still stuck inside your ear.”

And like magic your earlier blush reappeared. Your tongue rolled against the bottom of your teeth in a weak attempt to keep yourself from smiling. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to stop it as the urge to give in tugged mercilessly at your lips. The playful glint in his eyes was enough to keep the panic of how incredibly close he still was. Your eyes hopelessly glancing at the pair of lips that plagued your dreams. 

Jungkook noticed. 

And how did you know this, you might ask? 

Jungkook gave it away by the dramatic way his lower lip was drawn in by his teeth. Every movement he made sure was exaggerated and stupidly slow. His eyes watch for your reaction. He didn’t have to wait long; your eyes were glued to them long before his teeth joined the equation. You should’ve felt more embarrassed at your own blunt display - or maybe at his -but, god help you, you weren’t. 

You tore your gaze away from him and did your best to pretend whatever part of the lesson you’d missed was interesting. The dirt on your shoes could’ve been more interesting at this moment; anything to keep you from looking back at him. 

“I rinsed my hair three times in the shower. Thank you very much.” 

“Did you think of me while you were washing yourself clean?”

If what Jungkook was after was seeing your face light up brighter than a tomato he’d succeeded. Your cheeks instantly flushed and felt scolding hot. The only line of defense you could think of to fight the devilish look in his eyes was to give him a smack on his arm. The motion only caused his sinister smile to turn into a full blown grin; a bark of laughter leaving him seconds later. 

Jungkook chuckled out an, “Ouch!” His body leaning back, faux wounded, and rays of sunshine pouring out of him in waves. 

“I meant when you were getting the mud out of your hair.” His voice carried the singing sweetness of his laughter; airy and light. This boy who you did think of in the shower. All hard edges and softness; sour and sweet. Your very own sour patch kid. “I mean, I thought of you when I tried scrubbing it out from behind my ears.”

Your heart gave a brief jump at his omission. What you wished you would’ve focused on was the fact he’d admitted to thinking of you...in his own shower. But nope! Instead, your mind appeared to focus more on the fact it was while he scrubbed at his ears. 

“I scrubbed my ears too.”

Oh. My. God, you inwardly cringed. 

Is that really what your magical brain decided to say in return? Jungkook leaned back in, eyes inspecting not just your ear, but your entire space. Recklessly moving in dangerously close, and your heart was ready to beg for mercy. Whether to completely close the space between you or to stop teasing, of which you weren’t sure. 

“It appears you didn’t do that good of a job,” he huffed.

A gurgled scream flew into your throat; the sound was utterly ridiculous and Jungkook ate it up. His head flew back in laughter as your hand moved to swat at him again. 

The disruption turned the attention of your teacher directly to the two of you, and Mr. Choi was quick to address it. 

“Jean Jungkook! Y/L/N, Y/N!”

The both of you rose from your seats in unison. Jungkook’s rise the definition of graceful, while yours in comparison was met with anxiety and your knees colliding with your desk. Your small “Oomph,” of pain sending him into a fit of giggles beside you. The hand you sent in to pinch at his leg only sent him into another fit. 

“Y/N!”

Stupid, stupid! Of course he would see.

“Seonsaengnim!”

To appease him, you felt your body respond in a ninety-degree salute. Your face keeping down to stare at your shoes and praying you weren’t about to be sent out of the room. 

“Would you mind explaining what Jungkook and you found so interesting that the two of you felt like you didn’t need to be a part of class.”

God, it wasn’t a question. He really wanted you to tell him, and what could you say? 

“Oh, he was just asking me if I was in the shower...thinking of him. And he was thinking of me too!”

Which wasn't a lie. Maybe it wasn’t as dirty as he might have intended, but it was enough to make your cheeks flush to life with their usual color these days. Your mind was still racing with an appropriate answer for Mr. Choi. You were taking so long you were ready to blurt out anything he might want to hear. 

“Seonsaengnim.” Jungkook gave a respectful bow and lifted his head. His full attention now resting on the impatiently waiting man at the front of the class. “We were discussing the fact that you, respectfully, have written the equation wrong on the board.” 

The entire class seized up. A collective air was taken at Jungkook’s bold attempt to correct him. It was awkwardly obvious that he wasn’t happy at the idea of being corrected. However, Jungkook remained unfazed and waited for the right time to speak. 

“Is that so?” He snapped. “If it is so wrong, Jeon, then please, come and fix it for me.”

You were sure his order for Jungkook to go to the front would make him back down . No one enjoyed doing class work on the board up front for all to see. But you’d forgotten Jungkook wasn’t like everyone else. He kept his head high and moved to grab his cane; his hand wrapping tightly to its handle. Jungkook stepped out from inside his desk and let his feet carry him forward. He walked with a noticeable lack of a limp and you were willing to bet that strike of pride was costing him. 

It wasn’t that you couldn’t believe that Jungkook was able to walk without it. It was just that your memory forced you to recall the pain he was in during the field trip. The flashes of frustration as his eyes threatened to spill over with tears. 

Jungkook came to stand beside Mr. Choi. His hand reaching out to take the marker that the older man had held out waiting for him to prove his equation wrong. He plucked it from the older man’s hand and moved the last few inches to stand in front of the board. His eyes scanning the problem quickly. Your breath held tight in your chest as you watched him get permission to grab the eraser. The class transfixed on his every movement.

You wondered how many of the girls in your class focused on him like you were. The same way your eyes ate up every simple movement he made. The notable flex of his back while he stretched to erase the middle and last part of what Mr. Choi had written out. 

“You had a good start here, Seonsaengnim.” Jungkook paused to stretch out his hand. Fingers marking underneath the start of the problem. “But you didn’t multiply these after they were divided, and because of this the middle became wrong. With your core of the problem being wrong the solution was never able to end in its final conclusion.”

With every word, Jungkook’s voice became more self-assured. His presence enveloping the room and demanding the attention he’d already received without question. Mr. Choi watched on with his arms crossed; index finger hugging his mouth in concentration as he watched Jungkook work. From the back of the class, you could see students writing down the new formula. Some of them realized the obvious error Mr. Choi had made. 

Jungkook looked at the problem over again on repeat. If it’d been you, you would have left it where it was knowing you’d done what no one else did. But Jungkook wanted to know, for himself, that it was correct. 

Finally, he stepped back from the whiteboard and handed the marker back to Mr. Choi. Who looked measurably impressed with him. His index finger he’d used for thinking now covered up a timid smile before he dropped it to grab a hold of the marker. 

“Go ahead and have a seat, Jungkook.”

Jungkook gave him a passing bow as he made his way back towards the back of the class. Back to you. It took everything you had not to notice how everyone’s view of him seemed to change. Even the honor students; the ones bound for scholarship glory to prestigious colleges now seemed to take new interest in him. 

You’d heard stories about Jungkook, like everyone else did. The Boy Wonder. The boy who seemed unfairly good at everything. Before you’d ever met him, a part of you believed there wasn’t a way the universe would seriously do that. And yet, as he moved to sit back down beside you, you suddenly felt the overwhelming sensation of being below average. Your subconscious rose up to stop whatever sunlight you’d felt at his earlier words, and crushed it until it began to dim. All but snuffing it out. 

Jungkook fell back into the seat at his desk riding the high of confidence he’d gained from proving he’d know how to fix the answer. Not just know it; teach it. The air around him completely changed. He was the sun and the rest of you were becoming helplessly lost in his orbit. From the backwards glances of the others around you, you were pretty sure they weren’t going to mind one bit. 

Either Jungkook was honestly oblivious to all the attention or he just didn’t care. He practically beamed as he leaned himself closer to you completely unaware at how breathless he made you. That smile you’d admired during your field trip showed itself beaming and bright. He was so damn pleased with himself his eyes sparked with joy and you wish you could’ve pouted. Maybe found the strength not to care or to wonder if he could see how he affected you. 

You wanted to pout and be in your own bubble, damn it. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I don’t think he’ll bother us again.”

Us. 

Those butterflies you’d sworn to yourself you were not feeling towards him began to come to life. Or were they butterflies? You weren’t sure what to call the feeling Jungkook gave you. 

Sure, Jungkook made your heart thunder in your chest like a caged animal. And yea, maybe you swore to yourself there was an attraction there that you couldn’t explain, but that was just your dopamine talking. That didn’t mean the two of you were soulmates or the universe decided to bring you both together by a mess of unseen choices. 

But...when Jungkook looked at you this way it was hard to tell your thundering heart anything else. 

The two of you continued to look at one another. A heartbeat of time passing between you with Jungkook waiting for your reply. You watched the edges of his smile start to wilt as realization set in that you weren’t planning to  reply. No smile or teasing remark was headed his way, and just as fast as he noticed it, determination swiftly replaced the light weighted joy he’d shown moments earlier. 

“Hey, you don’t have to worry. I’m positive he will leave us alone the rest of the class. I promise.”

God, why did he have to make things so difficult? When Jungkook spoke the words, “I promise,” they’d been so earnest. He meant them. Here he was trying to turn the tables and be your knight, instead of you being his. It would have worked, but what he didn’t know was that you weren’t worried about Mr. Choi. Not really. 

No one could tear you down further than you were able to do to yourself. 

He was still waiting for the answer that you would never give. You turned to face forward in your chair and tried to forget the ripple of sadness that moved over his face. The cost of your stubbornness suddenly felt too high. No matter how it made you feel though, you refused to look over in his direction. 

An awkward chasm had built between the two of you. Mostly, well, obviously it was all because of you. You figured Jungkook would eventually stop looking at you. You prayed he would stop. Every time he did it your body became painfully aware of his gaze, and the longing it held for you to acknowledge him. And every time you remained facing front. You no longer could pretend to focus, however, and that seemed to be all the signs Jungkook needed to know you were in some way paying attention.

Your notebook that’d been left unattended on the desk became his private art museum. The doodles started off silly and slowly morphed into small faces and objects that held impressive detail. You tried your best to ignore it; his arm practically took up most of the space on your desk. The angle forced him to shoulder into your space to the point that if you did finally turn to look at him you’d run inches away from his cheek. 

You were doing your best to pay attention to whatever your teacher was doing at the front. Your eyes watched as a wave of hands went up to answer questions you’d never heard. Yours kept sliding back down to the latest doodle he was making. The latest one he was working on had forced Jungkook to move further inland on your notepad. His forearm getting dangerously close to having to rest in your lap. 

It continued like this the remainder of class. For all the effort you’d put in the last half hour of pretending he wasn’t there, Jungkook shattered it within seconds. 

He’d repositioned himself with each new doodle he started. His shoulder wedged itself against yours and his forearm had completely taken up what little space was left on your desk. You were trying very hard to not pay attention to how said forearm was dangerously close to your chest. There was no hiding the redness of your cheeks. 

Without thinking, you whipped your head to look at him and almost yelled. You knew he was close, but nothing prepared you for this.

“Excuse me,” you whispered, voice incredulous. 

Jungkook turned to look at you and...was he pouting? His eyes played up on the childish quality as he turned to you and batted his eyes.

“Can I help you?”

“Ugh, can I help you? Do you need paper or something?”

“I have paper right here. Thanks.”

Jungkook patted the notepad with the end of his pen. Satisfied with his answer he turned his attention back to his latest artistic endeavor. 

“You know this is my desk. Right?”

“I like to think of it more like our desk. Sharing a space like we shared music.”

“Ya, Jungkook. You realize you blackmailed me into using my ipod.”

Jungkook feigned shock. His mouth dropping open and his eyes brows going too high up into his hairline. The entire scene was exaggerated and ridiculous. The scene forced you to roll your lips against your teeth to keep from smiling. The effort it took to hide your grin wasn’t unnoticed by Jungkook, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that’d been his goal all along. 

“Blackmail sounds so crass. I like to think of it as bargaining.”

“So we agree it’s called blackmail, then.” 

The theatrics of his face dropped into a serious stare that left his face completely blank. Void of all emotion except the annoyance that drew a heavy frown from his face. It was stupidly cute and this time you did allow yourself to smile. Your fingers reached out to grab one of his puffed out cheeks and gave it a sweet pinch, like a grandmother, and cooed in his direction. 

“Oooooh Jungkookie, don’t frown. We’ve all gotta be wrong sometimes.” 

He playfully nipped at your hand to make you snatch it away. It took everything in you not to make a sound at his sudden movement. Your mouth hung open in an awkward smile-shout as you brought your handle against your chest. 

“I think you’re misinterpreting the facts here. Maybe you hit your head on a small pebble or something when you fell in the mud.”

“You mean when you pulled me in.”

He shrugged and replied nonchalantly, “I don’t think I recall any force being used yesterday. You just fell on my chest trying to take advantage of me in my time of need.”

Now it was your turn to look deadpanned in his direction. Jungkook didn’t try to hide his wicked smile, however, and the cage of butterflies that were housed in your gut were released all over again. 

“Your appa must be a lawyer. It’d explain why you’re so good at bullshitting.”

“CEO, actually. But I would say you’re close. They are also full of shit.” 

You weren’t sure what to say to this omission about his father. Underneath the sarcasm felt like a heavy chasm that spoke of the death of a relationship. Your curiosity threatened to get the best of you, but you decided to just throw it away. Filing it away inside a little folder you’d made for little known facts about him. 

The bell rang and the mass of bodies in class all began to rise from their seats. All of them eager to rush from the classroom and do whatever plans they’d made to enjoy their little bit of freedom. You were reaching for your bookbag when Jungkook’s hand was just there. A part of you worried he’d decided to play a game of keep away, or something that fit his playful mood, Instead, he placed it down on the desk. 

“Oh, thank you, Jungkook.”

God. Why were you staring? Why was he staring?

The room was still filled with the small display of chaotic teenage energy. Most of them had already filed out of the classroom, while some were still putting things away. Honor students were arguing with the teacher about markings he’d left on papers. Small groups of friends chatting happily as they moved in tight clusters through the door. So much was going on around you, and yet the only person you were aware of was him. 

“You’re welcome. Have a good lunch, Y/N.”

The playful air that’d been around him had completely disappeared. This boy who stood before you now was more reminiscent of when you’d first met than the boy you’d grown to like. What had made him grow so distant?

“You too, Kookie.”

It slipped out. You couldn’t stop yourself. He’d already started to walk away in his retreat. As soon as his pet name you’d given him hit his ears he completely stopped moving. His head whipped around to glance at you with that devilish grin raised high on his cheeks. 

“Kookie? Are you calling me a snack?”

If your eyes could’ve gotten any wider, they would’ve left your skull. The embarrassment was hot on your cheeks and you knew Jungkook would tease you without mercy for the slip up. By the look in his eyes you could tell he was never going to let this go. Not ever. He would be too happy to remind you of this until the day you died. Or until graduation. Whichever came first.

This time you scooped up your bookbag and snatched your book off the desk clutching them to your chest. In your haste to grab them and go, your knee collided with the edge of the desk, but you’d worry about that possible bruise later. You just needed to flee before Jungkook got any closer. 

“No, no. It was an accident.”

“You called me a snack by accident?”

You were backing up towards the safety of the open hallway. Your shoulders shrugging too high and your laugh too high-pitched in your attempt to play it cool.

“No snack nicknames here. It was just a slip of the tongue. I must just be hungry, ya know.”

“Are you hungry for me?”

Oh, he was intolerable sometimes. It didn’t matter how flustered he made you. A part of you knew his endless teasing was growing on you. You liked it, and the sane part of you wondered if you’d gone crazy. 

“Ya, Jungkook-”

“I think you mean, Kookie,” he cut in. 

Jungkook held a single finger up to silence you. He’d stopped moving towards you and let out a laugh as you tried to swat his hand down. He looked so much happier than he did moments ago. That alone made his teasing at your expense worth it. 

“No I mean, Jungkook. It’s the name your parents gave you.” You stated, proud that your voice sounded more stable than you felt. “I’m gonna go eat my lunch now. You should do the same and I’ll...see you later.”

You waited for him to argue. To continue to make comments in passing to keep your face rosy and flushed. He surprised you by just standing there in silence. His smile wide on his face and eyes looking at you like you’d held the moon. A look you weren’t used to and made you unsure how to respond. 

You started to walk back towards the door and found yourself disappointed when he didn’t follow. You sent him an awkward wave as your arms still held onto your things from your desk. Jungkook showed his amusement by giving you a wave in return.

“See you later, Y/N.”

At his words you turned on your heel and headed out towards the courtyard. No longer eager to eat your lunch that you’d packed. Your mind replayed his words and knew, without a doubt, he would keep his word.

—————-

Lunch went by as quickly as it came. Instead of eating your lunch with friends, you’d opted for sulking in the auditorium. Absentmindedly taking small bits off your food as you considered what had happened between Jungkook and you. 

There was flirting there. You may be a little delusional, but you weren’t delusional about this. It was obvious to anyone who witnessed it and yet you tried to deny its existence at every turn.  Of course, you knew why. 

It just didn’t make logical sense. You were two opposites that shouldn’t be in the least bit interested in the other. Well, that didn’t really seem correct when it came to Jungkook. He was attractive to everyone and probably even inanimate objects. But you...you just couldn’t see yourself that way. You’d only ever had one relationship in your life and it had been short-lived and in the third grade. 

Throwing what little was left of your sandwich back inside it’s little brown coffin, you removed yourself from your spot. A huff left you as you reached out to pick up your mess and started to hop back down the steps one-by-one. 

You weren’t sure what walking around was going to do. For the hundredth time since this day started, you were lost in your own head. The only thing you knew for certain was that you’d hoped to run into him again. A thought came to you that maybe, just this day, he’d shown up in the school's cafeteria. 

You could think of a million excuses for why you’d need to go into the cafeteria and it wouldn’t be weird. Just the thought of not coming off weird, while most certainly being weird, made you beam at your own creativity. 

You’d reached the last step and we’re crossing the field when you noticed, on the other side, the very boy you were looking for. He was alone and sitting under the shade of the only tree next to the amphitheater. His back against the bark and a knee drawn up to give his notepad a place to perch. Whatever he was writing, drawing, or formulating held his interest and refused to let him look up. 

All your previous bravado deflated in a second. It would be harder to deny you weren’t actively seeking him out if you went to him now. But, who said that you wanted too? 

Grabbing the strap of your book bag tight, you started back on your mission. Your legs made quick work across the field. It wasn’t until there was only a few feet left between you that he looked up. His brow still furrowed in tight creases of concentration as he decided if you were a friend or foe. Your feet almost tripped over themselves when he smiled at you. 

“Y/N!” He called happily. “What brings you over here?”

“I came looking for my snack.”

The surprise on his face made your bold choice of a response worth it. Jungkook, being who he was, quickly recovered and set his notebook and pencil down beside him. He placed his arms casually on his propped up leg and leaned forward as if he was about to tell you a secret. 

“Well, you found me. Why did you come looking for me? Really.”

You tried to think quickly of what to say. The idea of telling him the truth, that you’d just wanted to see him, felt painfully honest and might press him to ask for you to explain. How could you explain that in the short time you’d met him he was both the most interesting and infuriating man you’d ever met. But he was also the most beautiful, and had a delicate softness under his hard exterior that you were growing to love. He was basically the perfect description of the onion from Shrek. 

An idea clicked in your head and your hands quickly moved inside your bag and produced another brown bag. 

“I wanted to come see if you’d eaten. I had some spare kimchi rice ball’s my omma made.”

You extended the bag out to him. Your eyes locked together as you waited for him to either accept it or deny it. Jungkook surprised you by leaning forward and taking it gently from you. It took some effort, but he crossed his legs -his bad one in an awkward position - and plopped the bag down between his legs. 

You moved to sit beside him in the grass and took your book bag off your shoulder and into your lap. You watched as he moved to open the bag and peered cautiously inside. 

“It’s not a bomb,” you chided. 

“I never know with you.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile spreading like wildfire across your lips. Jungkook was so charismatic it felt inevitable and fighting against it was futile. He took a large bite of the rice ball and practically swooned. His eyes had fallen shut and a ridiculous chanting of endless “Mhm’s” had started rising up around you. 

“Should I leave you two alone?”

Jungkook’s eyes snapped open and for a moment you were worried maybe you did pull him out of some weird food ritual. His eyes were blank and then, all at once, he was back to being his usual animated self. The hand that held the rice ball shaking in your direction before shoving what was left inside his mouth. 

“This is unbelievably delicious.” He mumbled around his food. “You said your omma made these?”

“Yup!”

You’d said it in English just to dramatically pop the P at the end. Extending out your own kind of dramatics to match Jungkook’s. You leaned your hands back into the grass and noticed Jungkook watch your every move as you did. 

“Is your omma married?”

Your face fell into a deadpan stare as you replied, “Seriously? Of course her and my appa are still married, you creep.”

“If you can cook like your omma, Y/N I’m willing to lend you my amazing tutoring services. All for the low price of making things as delicious as this.”

He was already mid-way through shoving the second rice ball in his mouth. His head tilted back to drop it down. A piece of rice must have dislodged itself from its balled shape, because he erupted in a coughing fit. You couldn’t help but laugh as you handed him your water. 

“I think I’ll steer clear of rice treats. Just to make sure you don’t kill yourself.”

Jungkook was about to lift the bottle up to his lips and stopped. His eyes falling on you with a playful glare. You held your hands up in mock surrender as you leaned forward. Your hands clap together to get pieces of grass and soil from your hands. 

While he drank the water you’d offered up the two of you fell into companionable silence. You didn’t mind waiting and Jungkook was happy that you did. When he’d finished with the bottle, he set it down beside him. His hand moving like a flopping fish in your direction to make you give him something that you’d had no idea he’d asked for. 

“Come on. Let’s see your math homework.” 

“For what?”

“To start your tutoring. Duh.”

You hated how cute he’d made the word sound. The way his lips smiled around it and left him beaming at you like a little kid on Christmas. 

“Can we pass? We just left the class and I hate math. A lot.”

Jungkook tsked you but didn’t look disappointed. 

“You can’t get better at something if you give up on it. Luckily for you, you’ve got the best person in the subject to tutor you.”

“For a fee,” you pointed out. 

“All the best things come with a price. I’m most definitely one of them. Now. Book.”

His hand movements were more controlled now. His fingers simply waved once -twice- for you to hurry it up and place what he’d asked in his hand. You really didn’t want any part of this. The thought was sweet, but when you said you hated math you meant it. So yeah, maybe you were grumbling a little as you reached inside your book bag and taking a little longer than was necessary to hand it over. 

Jungkook took it from you in one smooth motion and had it open to the spot previously in class. All your homework problems you’d left unfinished glaring against the white of the page. His eyes were already scanning over what little problems you’d written down. A clicking noise from his closed mouth reminding you why exactly you hadn’t finished more of it. The reason was sitting right in front of you. 

His hand flicked back out and he held it open. His eyes never lifted off the page as he demanded, “Pencil.”

“What the heck? Why am I supplying everything.”

“Cause I’m supplying myself,” he shot back. His hands taking the pencil you handed over to him. “Plus, I also can’t seem to find any in my bag.” 

“You didn’t even look.”

Jungkook gave a graceful shrug. His attention was fully engrossed in the problems. You weren’t ready for how cute he looked. How adorable those concentration creases in his forehead made him look, even deadly serious, with his fingers tapping the pencil absentmindedly on the paper. When he figured out what was missing from the equation he quickly erased and reconfigured everything on the page. 

You were staring intently at him, both because his angle’s were ridiculously handsome but also, the way the sun fell down on him here, peaking through the trees, felt like magic. It was hard to believe the universe was more than just molecules and that luck was thrown out randomly. If it was, maybe you’d caught some. 

Your thoughts were running wild and your concentration was no longer in the safe zone. Maybe that’s why when he finally looked up from the notebook and found you staring he’d smiled. Not his teasing one. Or the condescending either. This smile was soft like a secret, and directed only at you. \

“See something you like?”

His voice was gentle in his playfulness. As if he wanted to take the cautionary approach in case you were spooked. 

“Maybe I do.”

A smile of your own spread to match his and Jungkook wasn’t surprised. He was just happy, and it was a lovely sight to see. He looked away from you with his hand moving up to smooth out the hair on the back of his neck. He flicked the pencil down on the notebook and brought it forward for you to see. 

“Let’s get back to this. I’ll be honest with you. It’s pretty bad. You missed a whole line on the third problem that left you with an incomplete answer. Not to mention,” he lifted up the notebook and motioned towards the whole page, “Where is all the rest of the homework?”

Jungkook’s voice was filled with the beginnings of laughter. Not specifically towards you, but just the blatant fact you did not care. You gave him your best nonchalant shrug. In reality, you did care. It bothered you it wasn’t finished. 

Your fingers were digging in the grass and ripping some of it up and throwing it out into the field. 

“I had a hard time concentrating last night. Plus, if I’m being honest math has always been the hardest subject for me.”

“And that is why I’m going to help you.”

“For a fee,” you reminded him. 

“I’ll teach you the easiest way I know how to do these and I promise you, you’ll be flying through these problems in no time.”

The sincerity in his voice was evident. Jungkook really believed it and he wanted you to believe it too. You just couldn’t understand why and you found yourself speaking your mind. 

“Why are you wanting to help me?”

It was his turn to shrug his shoulders. His face went blank as he looked at you one last time before he looked away. Whatever he was looking at he wasn’t really seeing. He just needed someplace else to look than the person he was talking to you. You did it plenty of times yourself. 

Whatever he’d decided on to say had caused his shoulders to square. Determined that whatever he needed to say he would make sure it meant something. 

“I like spending time with you.”

The smile you’d worn completely shattered as you stared at him. The butterflies rushed up and up until they trapped themselves in your throat. Jungkook’s admission was basically three words dropped away from just saying he liked you. 

This surprising admission should’ve been enough to make yourself not care who you saw walking. Or care when he stopped, his small mob with him, and start gesturing at his imaginary watch. His fingers rubbing together for money owed. 

It was worse when Jungkook looked back and took notice. Even worse when he looked back at you with questions swirling in his eyes. 

“Everything okay?”

Your eyes looked down to the safety of your hands. The way they were helplessly fidgeting back in the grass and tearing it apart like a miniature tantrum was brewing inside you. You hated that after all this time, you let Lee Kwon upset you by making you feel embarrassed about your dad. That he felt the need to tell everyone the business deal between his father and yours. How every time he told it he’d turned him more and more into a villain of his own misfortune. 

Without a reason why you took back your notebook from Jungkook and shoved it inside your bag. You were ready to leave. You didn’t want to explain, but you knew Jungkook wouldn’t let you just leave without one. 

He reached out and his hand gently wrapped around your wrist to stop you. There was no force. Nothing that hinted that he would keep you there if you didn’t want to be kept. Looking at him felt harder. His genuine worry almost threatened to let the tears from your frustration spill forward. 

“Hey, Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. Your vision dragging away from him and back to the retreating back of the sociopath, Lee Kwon. 

You didn’t try to shake him off. You actually felt comforted by his worrisome touch. The way he leaned in closer as if he would pull you into his arms at any moment. As much as you wanted that to happen, you knew it wouldn’t happen. A deep sigh had built up in your chest and you released it while you looked back at him. 

“Look. Eventually, I know you’re going to hear about it: my dad, I mean.”

“That’s kind of odd high school kids would talk about someone’s appa.”

“You and me both,” you agreed. “But Kwon’s dad is a banker who doesn’t believe in client confidentiality. So he tells his son about his day over dinner and-“

“And he decides to bring it to school to make your life miserable,” Jungkook finished for you. 

He understood and didn’t need you to simplify it anymore. His hand left your arm and you suddenly found yourself missing his comforting touch. It was still there, that comfort, in the way his eyes softened and he leaned in intent to listen to whatever you needed to get off your chest. You appreciated his attention, but also hated it at the same time. 

“What’s your Appa’s thing?”

God. He did understand. Maybe just a little too well for your liking. 

“Gambling. It started when I was in the seventh grade. At first it wasn’t anything too crazy. He’d always been able to even it out. But then he became obsessed with the idea of winning big. Kept betting on things we couldn’t afford to lose. Eventually, he bet too high and ended up losing the business he and my mom built together and our house. They had to pay the bank back.”

“A bank this dude’s Appa works at.”

“Correct. My Appa...he isn’t a bad man. He’s paid his debt and hasn’t gambled since. What good is it for me or anyone else to make him feel bad for the rest of his life?”

“I don’t get it. Why does that have to do with you, though?”

You’d wondered the same exact thing half of your adolescent life. You shrugged and looked at Jungkook wondering if maybe he’d be able to make sense of it better than you could. 

“Twelve year old boys enjoy making up stories. First it was that we became so poor we lived with pigs. That's why I smelled.”

You put air quotations around smelled and Jungkook practically howled with laughter. You tried your best to show no emotion, but could feel the corner of your lips threatening to curl into a smile. 

“He probably said it because you didn’t know how to wash back then and, judging from earlier, I still don’t think you do.”

You moved to playfully shove at his shoulder. A scoff of laughter leaving you even though you told yourself you wouldn’t. Jungkook was waiting for you to make a move and when you did he easily grabbed a hold of you. The feeling of intimacy, just like yesterday in the mud, was swimming back to the surface. 

Your eyes looked up into his with your laughter being met with a wide grin. The way he was looking at you now made you believe in fairytales and left your lips aching to be kissed. 

Before either of you could decide what to do next, the bell for the end of lunch sounded. You could hear it going off all around you, but still the two of you stayed holding each other. Your bodies close enough that if he wanted to make a move all Jungkook needed was to lean down. To say your heart dropped a little when he moved away was an understatement. 

You focused on getting up from the grass. Your hands patting down your uniform as you struggle to find something not so awkward to say. You wanted to sound confident. You wanted to sound like you weren’t affected by him at all. 

“Well, I’ll see you around.”

God, you sounded awkward. You turned to start heading to your next period. You closed your eyes tight and mouthed, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” You’d gotten a few feet away when you heard him call to you. 

You turned to look back at him and found him still standing under the tree. His hands in his pockets and his eyes solely on you. 

“Would you let me walk you home?”

Did he really have to ask? You’d let him walk you to the edge of a volcano. You didn’t say that, however. You wanted to play it cool, but on the inside you were screaming. 

“I’d like that.”

When you turned back around to make your way to class, the memory of how his face had brightened at your reply, stayed with you. You couldn’t wait for the day to end. 

_________

True to his word Jungkook waited for you after school. You couldn’t help looking for him over the countless shoulders as you walked with the sea of students towards the entrance. The hole in the pit of your stomach opened back up from the underlying dreadful thought. That he wouldn't show up. You’d be left standing there waiting for him forever. But Jungkook continued to prove your pessimism wrong. 

The closer you got to the school’s gate, you were able to spot him instantly. He was leaning coolly against the gate. His bag at his feet and his cane positioned strategically out of view. If anyone just casually walked up, they would’ve never been able to tell he’d needed one. Maybe that was why he’d done it. 

He looked to be searching for someone in every face that passed him. It came to an end the minute his roaming eyes found you. No longer did he appear cool and composed. His body became animated with what you could only explain as a giddiness at your oncoming presence.

By the time you reached him, Jungkook was wearing his backpack on his shoulder and his cane in his hand. He was standing and waiting for you. The happiness at being next to you was intoxicating and you could only hope you looked the same. 

“It felt like I was waiting forever,” he admitted. 

The two of you started in sync out the gate and turned left onto the main road.

“It felt like an eternity just to get to you. I have Mrs. Chun’s chemistry class for the last period. The classroom is pretty far.”

“Mhm, like on a planet far far away.”

Your eyes rolled up to look at him. The affection you found in the warmth of his eyes was startling, but not a surprise. 

Your mom used to tell you to always be careful with smiling. It caused laugh lines. It helped make crows feet. That smiling was a woman’s secret enemy she never knew about when it came to aging. She told you over and over to be careful who or what you wasted smiles on. Smiling up at him now, Jungkook was definitely worth it just to see him respond with his own. 

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s only, like, one planet away.” 

A soft hush of laughter left him as he looked away. His gaze roaming around the street signs and their multiple names before looking back at you. 

“Are we going the right way to your place? I just realized I never even asked for your address.”

“Does it matter? I mean, with your leg and all.” You hated yourself for spoiling the moment by bringing it up. You knew it was a touchy subject when it came to his leg for Jungkook. So you weren’t surprised to see that spark of warmth fade ever so slightly from his face. His smile wilted at the edges of his lips before it all but disappeared. “You know I’m sorry I said anything. I shouldn’t have. I mean obviously you know yourself and your limits. You wouldn’t have asked if you weren’t able to do it.”

You were rambling. You were fidgeting and waving your arms around while you talked, because why not? You were doing everything else besides hyperventilating at this point. All you knew was that you felt like a jerk for even bringing it up. When all you wanted was to know he was okay. 

You were so lost in the space inside your head and worrying that you didn’t notice him laughing at you. You were mid-arm swing. Inhaling for another round of mouth babble to start asking for forgiveness when he waved for you to stop. A finger tip landing on your lips to quiet the words in your throat by shocking you into silence.

“You really don’t have to apologize so much, Y/N. It’s alright. I understand why you would ask.”

You were tempted to lick his finger away, but it felt too intimate. But so was a finger on the lips. Before you could decide your next move from your internal dilemma, Jungkook solved it for you. His finger detaching from your lips as quickly as it’d come.

“No, you don’t. I’m just worried about you. I know I should trust you to know yourself better, but-“ you did an over exaggerated shrug as you finished: “I’m a worrier.” 

“I’m flattered, I have you to worry over me.”

You knew he was teasing you and you couldn’t have been happier. You preferred it to making him sad. Plus, he was back to looking at you like you controlled the stars and oh, what a wonderful look it was.

“You should be. I’ve only got so much extra space up here.”

You tapped your head for added effect and were rewarded with a soft laugh that was followed up by a smile. God, you could get used to this. 

“I guess I need to work harder to take up more space.”

“Please, no. Let’s not do that. I need my sanity.”

You couldn’t believe you were doing so well at flirting. Usually, your sarcasm won out and you resorted to awkward winking, but this was definitely an improvement. 

“I’m not sure you have much of that left either,” he joked. 

You tried to hide your laughter with a scoff. You knew you were failing miserably at being offended. Your mouth fighting too hard to ward off a smile as you playfully bumped your shoulder into his arm. Jungkook was ready for you with his cane digging into the sidewalk to give him extra stability. 

“Ya, if I do finally go crazy it’ll be your fault, specifically.” 

“I think you’d have a hard time proving that in court. My counter argument would be pretty persuasive.” 

You looked at him in shock. 

“Court? Wow...that escalated quickly.”

Jungkook nodded his reply. He stopped in front of a bookstore and pointed at a manga in the window. You weren’t too familiar with the title, but it's a cover you’d seen plenty of. 

“It would happen as quickly as an infection from a zombie’s bite. It would seem all slow until suddenly you jumped up and tried to eat me.” 

You couldn’t keep the amusement off your face as you glanced at him and back down to the manga. A part of you wondering if it was one he’d read before or just wanted to use to make his point. 

“Question: why are we together during a zombie outbreak?”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s because I’ll be walking you home. I’ll try and save you and while feeling all heroic about it, I won’t even realize you’d been bitten until it’s too late.”

The two of you moved away from the bookstore window and began to walk back down the sidewalk. Your mind trying to dissect what he was trying to say, but all it left you with was imagining a zombie version of you trying to take a bite out of him. 

“You must watch too much Walking Dead.”

“It’s a good show,” he shrugged. 

“Did you know that there’s actually a fungus out there that’s sort of like a zombie infection. It’s called Ophiocordyceps. It basically infects the host and within nine days of infection it takes control of the host's body movements.”

You were still walking and looking around while you spoke. Your fingers running gently over a row of gardenia’s that were planted in carefully placed pots in front of someone’s home. You were aware Jungkook had left your side by the sudden coldness of his absence. You turned to look for him and found him standing a foot away from you. A mixture of astonishment and amusement etched on his face. 

“Why do you know something like that? Actually, how do you know something like that?”

His eyes were dancing with curiosity as he moved to fall back into step beside you. 

“Let’s just say I like to read. I like strange things and facts. And science is full of both facts and strange things.”

With each small statement you held up a finger. When you ended on the third and final small fact about yourself, you wiggled all three fingers at him. The motion earned you a giant smile that only seemed to grow wider as his head shook slightly back and forth. 

“You are the strangest girl.”

“How am I strange?”

“You just told me about a body snatching fungus,” he chuckled. “What other girl is going to do that?”

Jungkook had a point. A very strong point. For all your new found confidence when it came to him, you couldn’t keep the heat from rushing to your face. Or the back of your hands from trying to hide it. 

“I would tell you to stop being embarrassed but it’s cute when you blush.” 

The two of you came to a complete stop at the crosswalk. The red light blinking to tell you two it wasn’t safe to cross. It felt like a weird metaphor for this moment in your life. 

Stop! Do not keep staring back at him as if he strung every star in the sky. Stop! Don’t continue to entertain the thought that he looked like he wanted to kiss you or that you desperately wanted to kiss him back. Stop! Even though you already knew it was too late. 

You had plans. It’d all been strategically mapped out in your head until you could read it forwards and backwards to yourself. Do your best to graduate high enough in the percentage range to get into a decent college. Get a degree for a job, it didn’t matter what it was, that made enough money to help your parents. For all your careful planning, none of it had included him and yet, the universe had you both standing at a stoplight looking at each other like there couldn’t be any other reality where you weren’t meant to end up right here. Standing at this exact light and looking at one another like no one else existed. 

Luckily, the light changed signaling for you to begin to cross. The mass of bodies that had accumulated behind you began to push you both forward and, reluctantly, broke your gaze free from him. Your brain was scrambling to pick up a conversation you weren’t sure how to resurrect. Your mind too busy daydreaming all the scenarios you would’ve taken in different realities if you were braver. Clearing your throat, you did your best to wipe the thought clean and focus on your current reality.

“If it makes you feel better,” you started your body turning to consider him as you spoke, “the study was only ever done on the tropical ants that resided in the forest. The actual effects and what it could do to humans has never been studied. Yet. But I’m willing to bet it would take longer than nine days for it to take hold of a grown adult's nervous system and larger batches.”

He was looking at you in inspired mock horror. You weren’t sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. Or if your unusual fact telling about zombie fungus had completely killed the mood. You got your answer in an excited hush of, “Holy shit it’s like you’re writing your own super villain backstory.” 

A smile erupted on your face as you playfully rolled your eyes away from him. It was hard to miss the mischievous glint in his eyes or the way his whole face still swam with the playfulness that lurked underneath his teasing. Jungkook was so alive. A force that required you to hang on or else you would get swept up in him without even realizing it’d happen. 

You wondered if this is what falling in love felt like. 

“I would make a terrible villain. I’m too clumsy,” you stated. Your weak attempt at downplaying yourself being met with a stern look. 

“How clumsy are we talking?”

“Hmm, I would say, ‘Kronk giving the llama potion to Kuzco,’ kind of clumsy.”

A hiss of air whistled between Jungkook’s teeth. A mock look of worry on his face as his hands moved to reposition his bag. 

“Can we call that clumsy, though?”

“What else would it be?” You asked. 

You could feel the lines grouping together in your forehead just trying to figure out what he was getting at. Jungkook didn’t seem to be in any rush to answer you. The two of you walking a few feet before he must have decided you’d waited long enough for him to reply. 

“I always thought Kronk was stupid throughout the whole movie, but really, he was just a good person. He’s a good guy tasked to do a bad thing and he just wants to make people happy. Even if it means doing the wrong thing.”

You wanted to ask if maybe he was talking more about himself than The Emperor’s New Groove at this point. He faced forward with his brow creased in deep thought and whatever it was that held his thoughts didn’t appear to be anything good. 

“Or,” you started, voice light enough to drag him out of his head, “it’s just a kids movie.”

Sure, Jungkook was looking at you, but he didn’t seem to actually see you. Somewhere inside his head, he was reenacting or seeing something that ate up all the sunshine that lived in his bones. It felt silly to feel a sense of panic about something that might not even be true. And yet, you couldn’t stop the awful thought that sadness was trying to make a home inside his soul. 

Without giving it another thought you reached up and pretended to wipe away a pretend rogue eyelash from his cheek. The suddenness of your fingers brushing on his skin jolted him from wherever his thoughts had held him hostage and back into the present. His eyes darted around your face and his own hand came up to gently take yours. 

“Sorry.” Your words came out breathy as you struggled not to focus on how he was practically holding your hand. “There was an eyelash. The wind must have blown it away.”

The earlier sadness that’d hollowed out his eyes was gone. What replaced it was one of knowing you weren’t telling the truth. His head tilted slightly down to inspect your empty finger of the proof you knew your words didn’t have whose eyes sparked with his usual teasing and something else. Something that left a different kind of heat flooding your cheeks. 

“I’m sure there was.”

Reluctantly, you removed your hand from his and continued to walk. It only took him a couple seconds to fall effortlessly into step beside you making you wonder if his leg was as injured as it seemed. 

A warm silence swelled around you as you continued to walk. A comfortable pace setting between you as he looked in the windows of every store you passed in between the changing streets. He never once asked if you were getting close to your home or how much farther it might be. It was like the moment on the back of the bus. The two of you enjoyed that the other was there without ever feeling the need to say it.

But you knew it was soon coming to an end. In only a few blocks, you’d be home and your fairytale moment would end. You were struggling on how to break this, more to yourself than Jungkook, when you noticed he pulled a Nikon camera from the side of his bag. He was squinting through the lens and taking photos of something up ahead. Of the landscape or the people and buildings that framed it you weren’t sure. 

He must have sensed your silent question as he snapped a few more quick photos before turning to acknowledge you. 

“Y/N, I have a serious question for you.”

It was hard to keep the amusement off your face as you both came to a stop. The place felt random, but it was anything but that to Jungkook. Whatever he saw in this space you both inhabited must have felt like magic to him. 

“Okay. Shoot.”

“Do you think we have enough time for me to take some photos?”

It felt like such an odd request. Why should anyone have to ask to do something that they loved? Jungkook didn’t fully say he loved doing it, but no one spent that much money on a nice camera if it wasn’t something they enjoyed doing. The look on his face was just an added bonus of proving your answer meant something. One that made you wonder why he felt like he needed your permission at all. And then it hit you: he wanted to stay in your company while he did it. 

You considered teasing him, but he looked too vulnerable standing there. You weren’t even sure if he was breathing. A pleading in his eyes that reminded you of a child asking a mother to go on just one more ride before they were forced to go home. You considered giving him the bad news that you had more than homework to do when you arrived home. But that could come another day. On this day, with him, you could spare an hour just to make him happy.

Instead of coming right out and letting him know you’d made up your mind, you decided to play coy. A soft, “Hmm,” hummed around you as you looked everywhere but him. Your index finger tapping on your lips for dramatic flare.

"Ok," You shrugged. "I think I have some free time I could spare."

His eyes squinted in question as you moved to stand in front of him. The movement simply to let a couple go by in peace, but somehow placed you closer in front of him. Jungkook’s gaze was roaming your face to find an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked. 

“You planned on saying yes this whole time, didn’t you. You were just trying to make me suffer waiting for you to answer.”

You gasped in pretend shock and did your best not to smile at his accusations. By the growing smile on his face you knew you were failing miserably. 

“Me?! I would never do such a thing.”

“You’re secretly a sadist!”

Jungkook’s smile only widened as a scoff of disbelief passed from your lips. Your own smile grew to match his own when his hands lifted up his camera. Seconds later the sound of the shutter clicked and you felt your soul leave your body. The earlier playfulness was swiftly swept in your own dark cloud and the idea you probably looked hideous in that photo. 

“Oh god, Jungkook delete it,” you pleaded. 

Your hands were reaching out to grab tightly at this shirt. Your fingers curled in the white fabric until there was a small chance you could tear holes. The camera in question was being held far from your reach. His hand easily held it above his shoulder as he used one hand to steady you against him. You’d invaded his space without even realizing, but you had no time to be embarrassed. Not when he had a picture of you forever saved on that camera. 

“Why would I delete it?”

He was his usual amused self you could tell, but he wasn’t egging you on. His question was out of curiosity. His own eyes brimming with it as you considered keeping one hand tightly wound in his shirt and the other to jump up and reach for the camera. 

“Because Jungkook I’m not cute. You’ll be lucky if it doesn’t ruin the camera.”

All his earlier playfulness drained from his face and what was left made you instantly feel like you were about to be scolded. His hand that had firmly planted itself on your hip was achingly apparent now as his fingers gripped you closer to him. Your own awareness at how close you actually were to his chest made your lips feel dry. Your tongue flicked out to wet them and god, it took everything in you not to focus on the fact his eyes had followed the movement. 

“Y/N, why would you say that? You shouldn’t let anyone talk down about you, and you shouldn’t do it to yourself either. You’re beautiful.”

He spoke like it was a fact. A statement that not just the two of you knew, but the universe did too. And what were you supposed to say back? While you were held captive to the thought he was still looking from you to your lips. The determination for you to understand his words and believe them setting soft lines in his face. You tried to keep looking at him, but under his watchful gaze you couldn’t keep yourself from fidgeting. Your eyes moved down the line of his body until it landed on the tops of your shoes. 

You weren’t sure what to say back. Thank you didn’t fit here. It didn’t feel like a moment where he was trying to boost your confidence the way a friend did. This felt more like someone who noticed something in you while you hadn’t been looking. 

So instead of saying anything remotely clever back you began to dislodge yourself from him. Your hands releasing their hold on his shirt and forcing his hand off of your hip. Standing there with only inches between you, your body was achingly aware that his hand was gone. It’s weight leaving a burning of longing to have it back forced your hands into your pockets and your body turning away from him. You waited for him to start moving back down the road. The motion forced him to either join you or stay where he was. 

“We should get going before we run out of time.”

You hated yourself for dismissing him. For not being bolder like you’d promised yourself earlier in the day. It would’ve been the perfect time to thank him. To tell him how you were pretty sure there wasn’t a soul on earth more attractive than him, but that what made him beautiful is what he refused to let people see. The soft tone of his voice still singing along to the songs on the back of the bus had ended up being an unspoken lullaby when you’d gone to sleep. 

A part of you considered turning on your heel and telling him this. To tell him that you saw him; actually saw him for who he was and not who he felt like he needed to be. But you just kept moving forward and weren’t surprised when Jungkook found a steady rhythm back beside you. 

The both of you stayed quiet. This time it felt more forced than the easiness of earlier. Like the two of you had so many missed starts at creating a conversation that neither of you could understand why it ended.

You watched him as he focused on the area around him. His camera training on an old couple who sat waiting for the next bus. The husband had clutched his wife’s arm close to his side. In his hands he was peeling what appeared to be an orange and with each freshly peeled slice, he gave one to her and one to himself. No one knew what they were conversing about, but it didn’t matter. To them, they were the only two people there. The wholesomeness of the moment made you wonder what they were like back in their youth. 

You listened to the flutter of the shutter click repeatedly. His hand twisting on the lens to bring it in and out of focus, while he himself remained deadly focused on capturing their moment in time. You were curious how the photos would turn out in the end and wished there was a way to show them how their love translated on film. 

You were in the middle of watching Jungkook turn his attention to a couple birds inside a cherry blossom when he spoke.

“Thank you for agreeing to walk with me while I do this.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Jungkook.”

A sad smile curled his lips as he dropped his camera down in front of him. His thumb skimmed over the buttons to quickly go through what he’d previously taken. The last one he landed on made his entire face light up and you felt a pang of jealousy at what it could be. How you wish he would look at you like that. 

“Maybe, but I feel like I do. Ever since my accident, my appa hasn’t been able to force me into things. For once, I get to just do what I want. Sucks it only had to cost me a friend and a leg to get some freedom.”

Your feet had carried you to the next stop sign. The sudden halt in moving forced you to look at him, really look at Jungkook, like you’d never seen him before. 

He wasn’t looking at you now. His ears a screaming red while his fingers danced over every part of the camera. His eyes roaming over its edges and flicking too fast through pictures to actually even be looking at them. For the first time since you’d met him Jungkook was scared to look at you. Scared for what you might see if you did. 

Looking at him now, you couldn’t have been happier to indulge him. You’d indulge him for the rest of your life if he’d let you. 

“Well, I’m happy to be of service.”

You mentally smacked yourself at your choice of words. Jungkook, however, was backing to his beaming self as he finally glanced in your direction. His eyeing ate up your embarrassment as it was your turn to face forward. Your feet hopping in place as you waited for the light to flash it was okay to walk. 

“I’m supposed to be at physical therapy right now.”

“Wait, what?”

The light was flickering finally for you to all move. Your feet moved to carry you forward unintentionally, just to keep with the flow of traffic, as Jungkook gave you a small shrug for an answer. 

“Did you say you were supposed to be at physical therapy?”

Another shrug and another long pause with no answer. It seemed he had been waiting for you to round the corner onto a quieter pedestrian free street before he replied, “After school. I have appointments almost everyday and I never go.” 

“But why? It’s meant to help you get better, isn’t it?”

“Get better to do what, exactly?” He huffed. Jungkook’s entire body took on a broodier tone. His cane practically dug small holes with each press into the pavement. “Who even says that I can get better?”

“Well, doctors for one,” you pointed out. “I’m sure they wouldn’t have signed you up for it if they didn’t believe you could get better.” 

“If I was going to get better it would’ve happened already.”

It felt like walking on eggshells. This side of Jungkook was the boy you’d met on his first day of class. His guarded demeanor up on high alert, as he kept his gaze stoically forward and his chin held high. 

“You’re not an idiot, Jungkook. You know injuries take time to heal from. It doesn't just magically happen overnight.”

“Who says that I want to get better?”

The coldness in his words forced your legs to stop working. Your feet were unable to move as he continued to push on ahead of you. His own movements became slower now as the long walk was beginning to take its toll on his leg. He knew you weren’t beside him anymore and still he tried to keep pushing forward, before eventually he had no other choice but to turn around. 

The look on his face was as defiant as ever. Underneath that defiance was a sadness so raw you only wanted to reach out and hold him. If just to remind him that he was seen and that his pain mattered.

That’s when the realization hit you.

“Unless you feel like you deserve this.”

The stone façade he’d worked so hard to create in the past few minutes began to chip. His eyes being the first to show by the soft uprising of tears that you were right. Somewhere deep inside Jungkook believed that he deserved what happened to him. That this was punishment for losing a friend at his own hands, even if it wasn’t his fault to begin with. 

The tears that threatened to spill never did, but they were there. They floated dangerously at the surface of Jungkook’s control and he refused to let go. The rawness of his pain hit you and all you wanted was to help ease it. You weren’t sure if he would accept any kind of affection, even in a small hug. So your only option was to move closer to him. As close as he would allow without pushing you away. 

With each step you could see his jaw clenching tighter; pulsing like he was fighting from saying something wicked to send you skirting back. He was just as afraid of what you were about to do as you were at being the one to do it. 

When the tips of your shoes nudged against his you drew your eyes up until they landed on his. A spark of something; fear or uncertainty, flashed in his eyes. Was he expecting you to be cruel? To yell at him to stop being a child and to grow up? How much had he already heard those words shouted by adults? How long had he been standing there like this, in a world full of grief, and no one there to pull him out to breathe before the next wave suffocated him once more. 

You weren’t sure if it was you or if what you said would matter, but it was important he heard it. It was important he knew that this was okay too. 

“You got to forgive yourself sometime, Jungkook.”

The words themselves were simple. Simple and spoken between you as if there was a secret meant only for the two of you to hear. All you really wanted was for him to feel the sincerity of your words for him to know it was okay. Okay to feel sad, unsure, and helpless at times when all the world felt against you. It was okay to not know your first steps and okay to take those first steps when you were ready. Eventually, we needed to forgive, if only to give ourselves the chance to heal and move on. 

His gaze was still misty with unshed tears and still they refused to fall. The pain and defiance that had turned his features harsh began to soften. All that hardness he struggled to keep himself in and others out was beginning to fade and the only thing left was him. All that sunshine that you’d seen lived in his smile and echoed in his laughter that crinkled in the corners of his eyes. The way he cared for others and making them feel cared for. The softness of his singing and the way he eagerly filmed people at their most vulnerable: at their most beautiful. 

It was at this moment you felt your universe shift and tip until it realigned itself. With your fingers back to holding the edges of his shirt it took everything in you not to close those final inches and hug him. Jungkook closed that distance for you instead. 

His lips crashing down on your cheeks causing a soft squeak of surprise to push free from your lips. A chuckle came as he came back into view and your mind struggled to comprehend what happened. 

It wasn’t a kiss on the lips but…

“Did you just kiss my cheek?”

Your hand was up to the aforementioned spot. A wicked smile wiping away all of his sadness until you weren’t sure if it had been real at all or if you’d imagined it. 

“I could kiss your lips if you’d like that instead.” 

If your cheeks could get any hotter you could’ve fried food on them. You felt a surge of disappointment when Jungkook took a reluctant step back from you as his eyes dropped to check the time on his phone.

“As much as I hate to say this: I have to go.”

“All of the sudden you have to go,” you huffed. 

Your words felt brave, but inside your heart was thundering wildly against your chest. 

“I could stay if you want?”

Smoother than expected, Jungkook slid his way back to you. His chest bumping against you making you lose your footing just enough that it forced you to grab on to his shirt. Jungkook’s own hand had moved behind your back to steady you and bring you closer to him all at once. 

You playfully smacked his chest and earned a soft laugh from him. Unfortunately, you found yourself peeling away from him. Your hands grasping at the strap of your bag to keep them from reaching back out for him. 

“Not a chance.”

Your reply earned a playful pout from him as he started walking backwards away from you. 

“I’ll remember that, Y/N!”

You rolled your eyes and turned around to start walking the rest of the way home. You didn’t get more than a few feet before he called back to you. Your eyes found him instantly in a crowd of people that continued to pass in front of him.

“I forgot to ask: what’s your number!”

He held up a pen expecting you to come back to him and write it down presumably on his arm or hand. You didn’t see any paper and could only assume. You knew it was all just a ploy to get you to come to him. The knowledge evident by the wicked grin on his face. 

“You’re a math wiz, right?” Jungkook was perplexed for a second before you started reciting your number as loud as you were willing to shout it. The wind blew it away as he no doubt struggled to listen. 

“Wow! What a way to play dirty.”

“If it’s meant to be you’ll figure it out.”

And maybe that was true. Maybe you both had a chance to write your own love story like from the movies and shows you used to watch with your mom. Like Rose and Jack from Titanic or Ross and Rachel...okay...maybe more like Chandler and Monica. Or maybe you were an idiot and should’ve just gone and wrote it down. It was too late now as he was already on the other side of the street. 

You were ready to walk the rest of the way kicking yourself for being so lame when you heard him call your name again. When you turned you didn’t expect him to be trotting across the road. You didn’t expect him to stop in front of you and give you another quick kiss on the cheek, this one gentler than before, with every fiber of your body remembering just how soft his lips felt. 

“I could fall in love with you, ya know.”

You watched as in the same breath he hopped back across the street and couldn’t help but think you already had. 

————-

Later that night you were snuggled up inside the sheets of your bed. The only thing sticking out was the current book you were reading and the top of your head. 

You hadn’t heard from Jungkook the rest of the day. Your heart hammered inside your chest every time your phone chimed with a new message only to deflate when you realized it wasn’t him. You loved your friends and all, but they weren’t who you’d been looking forward to all evening. 

Maybe you should’ve just gone to him and written down your number. Like a normal human being would’ve done. You just had to be clever and yell it out like a lunatic. For all you knew, you could end up with a random stranger texting you at all hours. 

Your current book that you were supposed to be reading but couldn’t really read because you couldn’t focus was now face planted onto your nose. A soft groan echoing into its pages as you fought not to close it and throw it somewhere in your room. You were a hundred percent sure you’d read the same sentence a few dozen times at this point. 

In the morning, you decided, you most definitely were just going to write it down. Like a sane person would’ve done. You closed your book and placed it down beside you. Your eyes roaming up to stare at your ceiling and wondering if you were ever actually going to go to sleep when your phone chimed off. 

You weren’t in any hurry to look. It could just be your parents from the restaurant making sure you were in bed. It could be one of your friends asking about making plans this weekend. It was probably still everyone but Jungkook and yet…

Your curiosity got the better of you. You shuffled inside your comforter, reached an arm out to grab your phone from the nightstand, and quickly pulled it back inside. You waited for your facial ID to unlock the screen to see who or what you’d received. Your own mind hyping up the suspense of the moment until it read over a reminder text from your dad about your chores for the upcoming weekends. 

You hated you’d let yourself have even a glimmer of hope. It was official. You’d ruined your chances when it came to giving out your number. A groan was creeping its way up your throat as you quickly sent back a text. You knew your chores took over almost every weekend. Even when you’d made plans with friends, you’d ended up never going. 

As soon as you’d hit send you were rolling over to put your phone back on your nightstand. The shrill sound of pinging messages stopped you cold. There was no way your dad had learned to text back that fast. You laid yourself flat back against the mattress and brought the phone to hover above your face. 

Y/N?

Is this the right number finally? 

Hello?!!

If this is the wrong person, I’m sorry. I swear I’m not crazy. Just looking for a girl. 

Your heart leapt into your throat. It was beating so hard you were scared it would burst from your chest. Your eyes were still skimming over the line of text messages when another one sounded. You were so caught up in reading the next line you weren’t aware your clammy fingers had let the phone slip and it crash landed down on your face. 

“Ooow!”

One hand scrambled to pick it back up off your face, while the other massaged the now swelling brim of your nose. 

How many people have you texted before me?

There wasn’t a need to send a hi. To give him a coy response to continue to tease him or make him believe he’d gotten it wrong again. Your curiosity at the desperate way he seemed to have been looking for you was endearing. The thought that he’d spent so much time sending out random messages for a response, no matter how crazy he looked, felt silly but cute too. 

Jungkook thought you were worth the trouble. 

OH MY GOD IS IT REALLY YOU?! And maybe like... seventeen. 

You snuggled deeper into your comforter as a soft giggle joined the growing smile across your face. 

I’m sorry I should have just wrote it down when you offered the pen lol

It definitely would’ve made it a lot easier.

You’d asked yourself that question all evening while you’d waited for him. You bit your lips as your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Unsure if you should take the chance and tell him. 

“Screw it,” you whispered as you typed. 

Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting forever. 

Well, I’m sorry to keep you waiting. This girl thought it was a good idea to shout random numbers at me 😅😂.

Your head was shaking as you tried to figure out something witty to say. You couldn’t believe you were here. Inside your comforter cave smiling at your phone like a lunatic and wondering if maybe Jungkook was doing the same. Or what was he even doing? You were getting ready to type out that exact question when your phone pinged to life. 

So, ugh, on to more important matters. It read. I was thinking about your love of random facts and I think I got one for you. 

Ooooooo kekeke this should be good 

Do you want to know it or not? 

Okay okay! Lol please tell me Kookie

You could practically feel him screaming through your phone as a sideways glance emoji was sent back in a long lined response. You wondered if you’d completely ruined his fact telling when your phone went off. 

I found this article that said the chances of finding your soulmate out of 500,000,000 people was impossible. But, if you just place it to where you are, to your age group, and timing it narrows it down to a 1 in 10,000 chance. What I’m trying to get at is...I think your my 1 in 10,000

You read the message on repeat. Over and over until you were sure you’d practically memorized it front and back. You wanted to ask him for his source material. Where such an article could exist. None of that really mattered to you and how could it? 

You must have spaced out because you never sent him a reply. Your thoughts were still spinning in a world all their own as you wondered if he was sitting at his desk doing homework or lying in bed. If he was inside or outside and what had made him so brave to send that message: believing you felt the same. 

The vibration of the phone brought you back down to earth. You expected to see question marks or another line of, “Hello?” To have left him on read. Instead, the only thing that greeted you was a simple, Goodnight, Y/N. 

This time there was no hesitation from you. 

Goodnight, Jungkook

See you in the morning ?

His text felt so hopeful. A silent undertone that if you said no there was a chance you’d break him. You bit your lip as you thought about what this meant. The beginning of small promises that eventually grew into bigger ones. 

I’ll meet you at the gate

You both finished up with another round of good night’s that felt like the embarrassing texting equivalent of “no you hang up! No you!” And placed your phone back on your night stand. It took forever for the sandman to finally claim you. Your dreams consisting of the magic of being Jungkook’s 1 in 10,000. 

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[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Little Sparrow - Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand/F! Reader

A/N: I sat down to write Sleepy Sex with Oberyn because @wasicskosgirl​ had me thinking some thots today and this is what came out. It’s not sleepy sex but I really hope you like it. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking. There will be at least a part two to this, possibly more. 

Pairing: Oberyn Martell/ Ellaria Sand/ F! Reader 

Warning: 18 + (Language, smut, vaginal sex, kissing, oral (F! receiving) mentions of blood, violence) It’s Game of Thrones....

Word Count: 3.8 K 

My Masterlist 

Part One 

It was a beautiful day, the sun high overhead, the ocean waves crashing against the Cliffside as you held your arms across your waist. The boats in the distance swayed in the gentle breeze, and behind you the excited chatter of the spectators fill the stands. The lions on the banners seem to come alive as they snap in the wind. Growling at you and causing the pit in your stomach to grow deeper. 

Oberyn was insatiable last night training in the room, twirling his spear in preparation for the fight of his life. You’d escaped with an escort to walk the shit smelling cesspool of Kings Landing to this very spot where you had seen him. The Mountain. Man after man being cut down as his sword sliced through them like bread. His deep baritone laugh sent a quiver through your heart. 

You jump as Oberyn wraps his arms around your waist, his chin dropping to your shoulder. Both of you watching the water. “Why do you look so worried my little Sparrow?” he coos pressing a kiss to your neck. “I am going to kill that man. I am going to get him to confess to raping and murdering my sister and her children. I will win, for Elia, for my family, for you.” 

He turns you in his arms and brings your hands to his neck like that night so long ago. His forehead coming to rest upon your own. You let out a shaky breath, “I refuse to lose you, Oberyn.” 

He pulls away slightly started, “You only call me Oberyn when you are cross or in insane pleasure my love, and since I’m not buried in your delicious cunt, I believe you are angry. Is that correct?” 

You look into the depth of his eyes before dropping them to the ground. “Keep your eyes on me. Never look away from me, do you understand?” You nod and he lifts your chin before kissing you passionately. His arms coming to engulf you completely. 

“You’re going to fight that?” Ellaria’s alarmed voice breaks the moment, the tension in your shoulders returning. He kisses you softly again before going over to the table and taking a sip of his wine. 

“I’m going to kill that,” his confidence is electric and you step closer to Ellaria. Her hand reaching for your own as you both watch him with bated breath as he comes to stand before you. “Are you worried?” he teases her and she scoffs before pulling him close. 

“Don’t leave us alone in this world,” she begs before kissing him. Their tongues twisting together and you feel your mouth water at the site. He pulls back as the crowd roars to life. 

“Never,” he looks from her to you and back. “I love you.” He spins the spear and turns on the charm, the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. You watch as he taunts the Mountain of a man before him, before the Viper strikes. 

The scene replays over and over in your head. The moment he stabbed his spear through the thick armor of his belly. The way your heart clenched in elation at after so long receiving his most treasured of wishes. Seeing the man who brutally raped his sister and murdered her children confess his sins. Then in a moment, the elation bled like the golden skin of your lover. He was overturned and laid beneath the giant, a breath away from being crushed to death. The gloves the size of two golden pumpkins on a harvest feast table began to crush the head of the man you loved. 

Ellaria screamed, grasping her head in horror, Tyrion standing there in shock. You don't think, running across the courtyard, unsheathing the knife from your thigh, and plunging it through the head of the giant. Blood spurting from his wound as the tip of the knife exits through his eye. 

Shocked, he fell to the ground, dead, Oberyn using what strength he had left to push him off. His face a mess of blood and sweat, left eye wide and dazed. Jaw most likely broken from the punch to his face. The right closed tight and crushed from the thumb of the monster you'd slain. The crowd erupts into outrage as your chest pants and anxiety sucks the air from your lungs. 

Ellaria ran over to you and embraces you as you collapse to the ground before your Prince. His broken body reaching out for you both. You feel his hand graze yours and look into the beautiful brown iris of the man you love. The roar of the crowd fading as you focus on him, feeling him pull you from the water as your lungs re-inflate. 

The maester comes and declares the Mountain dead before you are ripped from the arms of Ellaria and Oberyn by the King's guard. By order of the Hand, you are to be imprisoned by meddling in a match to the death. You let out a breathless scream as Oberyn tries to get up, and Ellaria reaches for your hand. The ghost of her fingers slipping through your own. The Dornish guards coming for her to pull her back. One paramour is lost they would not do if both were to be taken. You fix your eyes on Oberyn as the doors shut in your face, and you dragged away to the dark, desolate dungeons of the lower kingdom. 

Two days. Two days of shivering in the darkness. The constant drip coming from outside as a summer rain drags down upon the concrete walls of stone, driving you mad. This must be what insanity feels like. No reprieve in sight for the unending torment you shall endure at the hands of these Northerners. Footsteps in the distance sounds, and you lift your head from your knees. The golden yellow dress adorned with the Martell suns now dirty and covered in filth. Your beaded headpiece you borrowed from Ellaria is cradled in your hands, your fingers grazing over the beads, soothing to the touch. 

You remember the night of the wedding when you went to bed with her. The way she watched you through her dark lashes as her tongue buried itself in your cunt. You laid bare for her in nothing but the beaded headdress against the soft pillows and furs. Oberyn standing in the shadows watching, his mouth curving into a smile as he takes a sip of his wine. The memory fades, and you look upon the cell door to see the vision of your fantasy, Ellaria, draped in a dark cloak, almost blending in with the shadows. 

"Little sparrow, are you alright?" her voice coos among the harshness that surrounds you. You crawl to your knees and stand on shaky legs. "You look pale. Have they fed you?" You shake your head no and place your hands through the bars, reaching for her hands. She lets out a gasp at the chill of your skin and furiously rubs your hands between her own. 

"Is...is he alive?" your voice is hoarse from disuse, but she knows who you mean. 

Nodding, "Yes, very much alive and raising absolute hell. He has been advised by the master, you know the old fat one who you said made your skin crawl?" You tremble, thinking of how his beady eyes followed the curve of your breasts in your dress. "He told him to rest, but he will not until you are released and in his arms again. He wanted to come here himself, but that Lannister creature refused, thinking he would release you and run away into the night." 

"How are you here then?" you ask, holding tightly to her hand as the other runs across the skin of your cheek. 

"I am like a cat in the dead of night; no one would suspect me to come and see you. I brought you some things." She releases your cheek and brings around a satchel from under the cloak, removing a chunk of crusty bread, some hard cheese, and a small pouch of wine." You eagerly reach for the food taking a bite of the bread and uncapping the wine, taking a large gulp. 

Food had never tasted so good before, the cheese you placed in the fold of your dress for later with the other half of the bread. Who knows how long you would be in this hell before you found reprieve and were rejoined with your lovers.

 You may never see them again. You may never see your daughter again. The gravity of the situation sinks in, and you feel the sob swell in your chest before it breaks free. The tears falling freely down your cheeks as she shushes you, cupping your cheeks through the bars. 

"Sweet love, we will get you out of here. You do not need to fear; Oberyn and I will return home to Dorne with you very soon." You sniffle as she rubs your tears away, pulling you toward her and placing a delicate kiss on your lips. "I have something else for you," she whispers against your lips before kissing you again and pulling away to reach under the cloak. "This is from Oberyn." 

She holds it out to you, and you tremble hands shaking as you reach for it. Hand opening and closing in hesitance before you touch the envelope. The smooth parchment warm under the icy fingers clenched around your throat. "Does," you look down at the paper, "Does he hate me?" 

"What are you talking about? Did you not hear me tell you he is tearing Kings Landing apart to get you out of here?! Why would you think such a thing?" her hands grasp yours, and you look up at her through your tears. 

"I denied him an honorable death; I wounded his pride. He is the Red Viper of Dorne and his, whore, is the one who killed the Mountain. What if he is only trying to save me so he can kill me himself?" Speaking your fears from the last two days aloud made your heart splinter and crack. 

Her hands tighten, "My sweet sparrow, please," she begs, "read the letter. Let it ease your mind and heart." You hear the sound of footsteps down the corridor, and she tightens her grip, "I must flee, back to our Prince, but please do not despair. You will be back in our arms and bed soon." She pulls you closer and kisses you again, slipping her tongue past your lips as her fingers glide against your skull. She pulls away abruptly and disappears into the darkness of the night. 

You retreat to the shadows of your cell as a guard passes the door and sneers down at you, spitting into the cell, "Dornish slut." He walks off, and you let the tears fall like gems down your cheeks pulling the envelope close to your face. The smell of fresh citrus and bergamot drifting into your nostrils, and they flare as your transported back to your first night with him. 

*******

A light mist from the ocean drifting over your heated skin as you looked upon the night sky, stars twinkling like gems, each one unique and special upon the ebony backdrop. You hear the gentle footsteps behind you; he wants you to know he is coming. The Red Viper could easily sneak up on you before he strikes, but every click of his heel is intentional. Your eyes droop closed as you feel the warmth of his chest behind you, enveloping you like a cloak as his arms come to wrap around your shoulders and clasp around your chest. His chin coming to rest upon your shoulder as you drop your head back and lean it against his own. 

"I wasn't sure you would be here," his moist breath tickles your neck, and you shiver. 

"I wasn't sure either, but I can't deny that I want this. That I want you," you slowly open your eyes and turn in his embrace, his hands coming down to your hips. 

"What made you change your mind?" his thumbs rub gentle circles against your waist, and you look up into his russet eyes, deep and velvety. 

"I realized I was only living half a life. Going through the motions but never really existing, until you touched me. My Prince, your touch ignited the flame deep inside me, and I burn for you," he takes your hands in his and brings them to his shoulders and up to his neck. His fingers trailing down your arms and towards the gentle swell of your breast. Breath catching as his thick fingers grazes the edge of your heated skin. 

"Will you promise to be mine then?" his voice, accented and thick, send a tremble down your spine as he steps closer and places a kiss on each of your cheeks, his mustache tickling against the soft skin. Pulling away, he is but a breath away, his lips a ghost against your lips as his eyes bare down into your own. "I am a selfish man; I will want you all to myself." 

"What about Ellaria?" you feel his lips graze your own, and he smiles. 

"Do you want her to join us, my little sparrow?" He kisses you softly, and you emit a small gasp as he slides his tongue against the plumpness of your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and letting go with a light pop. 

"I want all of you," you whisper, "and that includes her. She is as much a part of you; the moon belongs to the night sky." His eyes glow in the moonlight, and he moves his hands down to the clasp of your wrapped dress, dark blue in color, such a contrast to the warm golds and yellows that surround you. 

"May I see you?" he murmurs, and you nod. His fingers move deftly to unclasp the small hook on the side of your dress, pulling it open. Your nipples hardening as the chill runs across them and his eyes widen at finding you bare beneath. "Exquisite," he lets out a breath and allows the dress to slip over your shoulders and down to the floor. He steps away and circles you, your skin vibrating as the viper prepares to strike. His hands leave a blazing path as the pads of his fingers rough run over your flesh. When he comes around full circle, his eyes have darkened obsidian, and he reaches for your hand. 

Taking steps backward and leading you back into the room. The bed in the center of the room is large enough for five people, and you are sure it has held many more than that before. "Lay on the bed," his voice is low and deep, and you do as your told, falling back amongst the plethora of pillows and rich furs. "Spread your legs," you drop your thighs to the bed, and he groans as your cunt is displayed before him, glistening in the moonlight. 

He takes his time and strips off his robes, letting them drop to the ground in a heap. Your heart-stopping and restarting in quick succession as you see his impressive member. Thick and long curved up against his belly, he strokes himself as his eyes devour you whole. Mouthwatering as he pumps himself at your body bare before him. "Where do you want to fuck me, my prince?" 

He growls before taking a step toward you, "everywhere." You clench, and a whimper escapes you as the bed dips, and he kneels between your legs, looking down at you. He starts at your neck and trails his hand down over each swell of your breast, his fingers twisting a nipple and eliciting a gasp as you feel the coil tighten in your belly. Lowering them to your stomach and down your thighs. Stopping at your knees before coming back to the place you want him most. 

His fingers gliding among the seams and then slowly dipping into the heat pooling at your core. Collecting your slick onto his finger and bringing it up to his mouth to taste. "Seven hells you taste better than the sweetest Dornish red," he moans, and you watch with bated breath as he licks his finger clean, his tongue sweeping out to collect your pleasure. "I want to taste you little sparrow, make you take off into the heavens on a cloud." 

You whine, "We have all the time in the world, my Prince, please, please put your cock inside me. I'm weeping for you," you've never begged in your life, but you don't seem to care as he lets out a small chuckle. 

"You are soaked for me," his finger running back and forth between your lips, making you drench him. "Should I give this little cunt my cock? Do you think she's ready?" 

You nod, biting your lip, and he leans forward, notching his cock at your entrance, his body hovering above you. "Don't close your eyes," he whispers, bringing a hand to your chin, "You will keep your eyes on me this whole time, do you understand?" 

"Yes, my Prince." He smiles as he slowly pushes inside of you, both of your moaning as he sinks deeper into your tight heat, and his eyes burn into yours. You bring your hands up to his arms and squeeze as he moves further in, inch by glorious inch until he's seated fully inside you. 

You'd had a couple men over the years. Quick fucks in the stables or the woods where you once lived in the North. Stable boys who finished before you'd even begun or been too drunk to keep it up. Not a single one had made you feel as full and complete as the man above you. So deep, you could feel every ridge of his cock press against the soaked confines of your pussy. "Does that feel good little one?" 

"Yes," you gasp as he pulls out slowly and then quickly shoves back in. The delicious snap of his hips against yours as your skin develops a thin sheen of sweat. He continues his slow, torturous pace until you are withering beneath him in agony. "Seven Hells, please move faster, harder; I want you to fuck me, Oberyn." 

He stops, eyes widening in surprise, "What did you call me?" Your hand goes to your mouth in shock, you'd never called him anything but Prince since your first meeting, and you worry that you've offended him before his voice drops an octave. "Say it again." 

Eyes never leaving him, you whisper, "Oberyn." 

"Louder," his hips start to move faster but still not enough. 

"Oberyn," you say it louder this time, nails digging into his broad shoulders. 

"Louder," he brings a hand down to rub at your clit between you as he moves faster. 

You moan, "Oberyn," it's louder this time, and you feel the heat coming to a crescendo as he shouts at you again. 

"Louder!" 

"OBERYN!" you scream his name as he pounds into you furiously, sure to leave bruises on your flushed skin as you cum, squeezing his cock and gushing around him. He works you through your orgasm, rubbing your clit in time with his thrust before he slows down and moans above you spilling inside. His cum hot and thick, painting your walls as you squeeze him tight, milking him for all he is worth. He collapses to his forearms, and you exhale shakily, trying to catch your breath. 

He slips out of you and collapses next to you on the bed, his hand on his waist. And his other arm coming to wrap around you and curl you closer to his chest. You take a deep breath inhaling the sweet scent of citrus and bergamot that clings to his skin. His fingers tracing patterns on your back. "Would you come take a bath with me, little sparrow?" He looks down at you, his eyes alight with mischief. 

"That seems foolish, my dear Prince," you grin deviously at him. 

"Why is that?" 

"Because I have a feeling we will just end up dirty again," he lets out a booming laugh, and you smile at seeing the joy split across his face. 

"That is very true, but please, indulge me. I want to lay with you in the hot water and wash your beautiful body with my soap so that everyone who gets within in a foot of you will know your mine." He bites the tip of your nose before smiling and getting up to draw you a bath. Watching his backside walk away, his golden skin gleaming in the moonlight. 

******* 

The tears drip onto the envelope, clenched tight in your palms. The edges cutting into your soft skin marred with the dirt from the floor. You squint in the dim light of the fire to see your nickname written in his elegant scrawl. 

Little Sparrow 

Your fingers trace the letters as you turn it in your hand and dip it below the wax seal, a golden sun of house Martell breaking it. Your hands tremble as you take out the letter unfolding it. Your chest feels heavy as though a thousand rocks lay precariously, waiting to crush. You heave as great sobs swell, and the tears flow down your cheeks, almost making it impossible to read in the dim flickering of the light but somehow you manage. 

Little Sparrow, 

I faced death. I could hear the screams of Ellaria, the light closing in as that monster lay above me, crushing my skull beneath his fingers. The sun peaked through, and I prayed to the seven that I would one day see you and Ellaria again. My children flashed before my eyes smiling and running through the gardens of our home. Until I heard the sound of a goddess charging in battle with a cry, and the great evil was slain. The sun returned to my vision, and above me stood you, my golden goddess. 

You saved my life. I have always loved you, from the moment I laid eyes upon you to the moment I believed they would shut forever. I will always love you. I will tear this shit hole of a city apart brick by brick and kill anyone who gets in my way before I let them take you away from me. 

They will rue the day they touched a hair on your perfect head. The Red Viper lays in wait, my little Sparrow, and soon, very soon, he will strike, and you will be back in my arms. We will be home with Ellaria, the girls, and our beautiful Serena; she will know what a fearsome warrior her mama is. 

I love you more than words can express. Soon, my love, I will show you all the ways I love you. Soon. 

Your Prince 

Taglist: @josepedropascal​ @mrschiltoncat​ @mrsparknuts​ @ghostwiththemostbitch​ @zannemes​ @xjaywritesx​ @oldstuffnewstuff​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @heythere-mel​ @justanotherblonde23​ @artsymaddie​ @anetteaneta​ @lunarthoughts​ @aellynera​ @lucifer-​ @houseofthirst​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @chicken-ona-stick​ 

#oberyn martell x reader #Ellaria Sand #Ellaria Sand x Reader #Oberyn x Ellaria x reader #Female Reader #Oberyn Martell #Pedro Pascal #Game of Thrones #Autumn Writes

[melissa-s23]

Private lesson

Sumarry: Janus try to decieve himself into a timeline where he can save his friends. He does not expect reality to offer him an opportunity to prove himself.

Word count: 3127

Characters: Janus Sanders, King creativity Sanders

Warnings: Sword fighting?? Idk please tell me if you think something else should be added here.

Author’s note: MY FIRST ONESHOT EVER COMPLETED! Yes! And the honor goes to @rondoel ‘s King!AU! ( @kingcreativityau ) :D Now: are the characters OOC in this? Most probably. Do I really care about it? Only a tiny bit. I only started to post Sanders Sides content here recently, but I’ve been a fan of the series for a few months now so I had time to read a lot of fic... however I’m still not sure on what I got wrong so if you have any criticism, positive or negative, please let me know! Lastly, this was at first supposed to be an animatic (on the song called ‘This is war’) but I have NO TIME to draw and lot of time to write so enjoy! When I do get time, I might try to animate a certain part of it that I don’t think I nailed that well in the fic. Anyway, I’ve been rambling for long enough. ENJOY!!!

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

Janus stood there, in the empty training room. Since King's return, he felt very conflicted, and he hated himself for it.

The king was merciless, he cursed Patton to make him look like a toddler, he removed Logan's vocal cords, he cursed Virgil into torturing himself into deadly downward spirals, and...

And he was very spiteful, he was angry... because he'd betrayed him.

Janus clenged his fist. He couldn't help but remember the look of betray and rage that his King gave him when he discovered his team-up with Logan. Those orange eyes that could burn him down on the spot. Those oh so intense eyes... Damn it, he was back at it again. This is over now. His king was gone. Now it was the King. The tyrant. The side who hurt his friends.

He was standing in the empty room, looking at his reflection by the mural mirror. His now half-half face looked so tired. Was he really this tired ? He was probably very very tired... but he'll rest later, as the memory of his most recent wound was still fresh in his head, replaying this utter humiliation, he just couldn’t sleep. Anger soon filled him up.

He could have tried to stop him. He could have tried to save his friends, and instead he just... froze. He just let it happen like he couldn't do anything. And he knew how to fight ! He knew how to defent himself for crying out loud ! He could've done something, and instead... Nothing ! He recalled the scene, bit by bit. How Logan stood at his left, how virgil was just behind, how the king was looming over them, despite being 10 feet away from them. He remembered every movement, every word, and every second of that moment like it was written in his metaphysical blood.

And in a second, it was like he was dragged back to this hell again.

And he would not let it happen a second time.

He summoned his cane and raised it up at the memory of King. His mind wandered off now. He had to imagine how he would've react. Would he summon his sword or take full creative control to just trap him ? He wanted to think he had a chance, so he chose the sword scenario.

And just like that, the imaginary fight was on. Step forward. Left. Right. Dodge. Go protect them. Put up a fight. He would have rushed toward the tyrant and aimed for the head, the sword would've get in the way and he could uses the top of his cane to project himself back to the group. Go. Dodge. Pare. Block and Dodge and Move fast and Dodge again and Block and pare and send it back. The world was spinning around him and the fight got more and more intense. He may have his eyes closed, but he knew perfectly where he was in the room, and he was completely in his daydream. Left and Right and Block again and Forward and Left and Block and backward and spin and swing the cane for it to stop only an inch away from the face of his enemy. He would have been a threat, and he would have been able to save his friends from the King.

He didn't expect, however, to be met with the actual King in front of him when he opened his eyes.

Janus' eyes widened and he immediately cursed himself for backing up. Great. He was all about putting up a fight and a second later, he was cowering. ‘Talk about blowing smokes.’ He at the very least kept his glare from fading away. He couldn't be scared of him. He couldn't show it. He was simply surprised... He had to make that a challenge for him, Deceit was not a side you could see right through, after all.

« You seem to have a quite... Interesting dancing style » King spoke, an almost mocking grin showing as he looked down at Janus. Crap. Did he knew ? Was he there the whole time ?

As the tyrant lift his hand, Janus snaps back into reality, setting his guard up and putting a stronger grasp on his cane. Only for the object to sudenly float in the air, shining with bright light and transforms into a sword that Janus grabbed back before it falls on the floor. This left only more confusion in the half-snake, confusion which turns into alert when he lifts his gaze back at the King only to be met with another blade. He jumps back.

« W... What ? » Janus was lost.

« Wouldn't you try and learn an acutal fighting technique ... » King's voice was composed, but also slightly amused at Deceit's confusion.

«... instead of the poor travesty I just witnessed ? » until it all vanished in favor of annoyance.

Janus tried to process the words as King switched his position for a dueling one. His sword in front of him, his torso on the side and his feet dug on the ground. Was he.... what ? What was happening ?? One thing sure was that he invited Janus to mirror his behaviour. And so he did, taking a deep breath, and standing still while carrying his sword to cross the others. And before he figured out what to do next, King took three blows and sent Janus' sword flying through the air and crashing on the ground.

« Whoa wHoa WHOA ! Hold on ! » Janus lifted his hands in defense and gulped as the blade of his enemy got dangerously close to his throat.

He then heard a chuckle, and the blade finally got away from his neck. « It was just too tempting. » He snapped his finger and the sword flew right back to Janus' hand, who was still confused.

« Alright, for real this time, I let you give the first blow. »

Janus hesitated, still not sure if the scene before him was really happening, but quickly composed himself. He came back to mirroring King's posture and came with a serious expression. He quickly analysed how he could start and how he could win the fastest. When he assumed to find a way to win quickly, he lifts his sword up and went for it.

Boy, was his assumption wrong.

He thought he'd move faster, but the moment the sword swingged on the left, King's weapon caught him off guard, and it only took two quick slays for Janus' to fly in the air again. He felt baffled and humiliated. And the amused smile from his opponent didn't boost his ego at the moment.

« How ? » He didn't understand. Even his instincts weren't nearly as fast as the King, and the tyrant didn't get the chance to train in years !

He only got an arrogant giggle in response before the sword flew back to Deceit's hand. Janus frowned deeper and dug his feet in the ground, ready to jump. King did not miss, nor cared for deceit's threat.

« Again. » He simply ordered. He only had to move his arm to be back to his initial position. Was there a point to it ? Or did his tyrant just liked to put him through this childish show of superiority ?

For some reason, Janus obeyed.

And lost.

Again.

« Try again. » the King ordered.

The other obliged.

After the 4th time the sword flew back into the yellow side, he had to face it : This was happening. King was training him to sword fight. And he just... accepted it ??? What ?? How was this happening ? Usually, he would try to bite back, make some remark, try to hurt him, but here he just... went along with it. And King seemed pleased with that. He looked...content. He looked satisfied with giving Janus private lesson. This moment...  against all odds... felt... not as bad as he expected.

The more they fought, the less cold the tyrant was, and the less tense they both get. King stopped trying to bring him to his knees and instead looked like he a professor, excited to give his student something to work on.

Of course, he would never admit it, but in this instant, in this moment of intimacy and challenge devoted from any animosity... It was calming, it was like a fresh wind coming after a heat wave of chaos, and the adrenaline that came from the fight was giving him enough energy to savour every second of it.

Wait.

No.

No no no no no.

He wasn't enjoying it. He wasn't enjoying it at all. He could not appreciate what was happening : the sadistic bastard was bellitling him and humiliating him right now ! And worst part is ? He couldn't even do anything about it ! Because King is so freacking good at sword fighting and Janus' main weapon has been turnd into a sword for crying out loud. There was no time to lust over past relationship !

And another game lost.

« I told you to pay attention to what was happening high up. Looking at my chest is not going to do much if you want to predict where or when I'm going to hit next. I thought you'd know that. »

« I was simply lost in another train of thought, I hope you could forg- »

DON'T.

FINISH

THIS WORD.

'You be submissive, god dammnit.' He thought to himself before clearing his throat and returning to his cunning voice. He had to keep his distance.

« I don't need you to tell me that. I was simply lost in thought. Do you really I am this much of an idiot ? »

« Well, you didn't prove me otherwise yet so. » He chuckled low and got ready for yet another one. « En garde. »

Even though he couldn't hide the joy he was feeling at the moment, he could mask it behind his usual calm appearance.

« And how many times are we going to do this ? » He asked, his tone playing between teasing and bored

«Until you get some actual fighting skills. » King answered, playing along.

« Ouch. I think I prefer the wounds caused by your sword. »

« Well then hurry up and grab your weapon. » Damn it. Why did they seem to get along of all sudden ?

« As you wish. This was merely a warm up. » he lied

« I do not doubt it any second. »

And just like that, the conversation became non-verbal again.

…

Truth be told, neither knew how long they've been fighting. Was it an hour ? Three hours ? 20 minutes ?

Truth be told, neither cared.

All janus knew is that he was getting better and better, almost becoming a challenge to the King , and the other side seemed glad to step up and fight with more intensity.

And both completely forgot to hide their excitement.

Janus started to tease king, even when he was clearly losing, and the other responded with as much sarcasm and complicity. The two glared at each other with malice and playfulness the whole time. And both couldn't help but smile.

And just like that, it felt as if they never left each other.

When he was younger, Janus and his king would play around with wooden swords, roleplaying like two ennemy seeking vengence in the most childish way. Janus sometimes would fake losing so he could see his king's proud smile which was worth losing 10 times again. His king would sometimes lose and janus would feel a feeling of acomplishment that was very strange to him, in a pleasant way. And at the end, they would most of the time lay down on the green grass and just talk about everything and anything.

And right now, he felt like he was playing with his king. Only the swords weren't made of wood anymore, and it was more professional. But still, it felt the same.

And it felt ...pleasant.

He could hear himself laugh just like when he was younger, and if he listened closely, he could feel king chuckle just like his king.

And it felt … nice.

From the talk, to the movement, both were on edge, calculating every move and waiting for an opportinity to strike. It was an amazing strategy game combined with pure raw strenght. And King's fighting style was both very classical and yet creative. He was very crafty and Janus only had to rival with his own tricks. They were in the moment, living fully the present.

And it felt...

And dear lord, it felt so, so good.

He could feel himself fly as he dodged, he could feel fire in his vein when he was about to strike down, he felt his head spinning, yet everything around him was so crystal clear, it was like a dance. A disturbing, aggressive, cold and passionate dance.

A dance...

They used to dance before.

His king and himself.

Most of the time, when they were done fighting, they would lay down on the grass. Most of the time.

Sometimes, he could have the biggest honor of all.

'Now, my dear, would you enjoy a waltz with me ?' his king offered his hand

-'I don't want to step on your foot again'

-'I told you you didn't hurt me ! Come now, it's not your job to be scared.'

despite his defensive approach, he adored those dances.

-'Alright, I'll dance with you. '

How did it go again ?

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3.

Left, right, right, wait no, was it left again ?

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3

step up, forward, step back, and one turn and another. His king would have his hand on Janus' shoulder and Janus would have his hand on his king's waist. And they would dance, and the music filled the air, and his king would have made a room just for them to dance.

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3

Turn around, then left then back up.

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3

Then caught in their trance

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3

They would just spin around, and turn and spin and spin again and everything was  spinning around them and they could only see each other and the whole world was spinning and it was just them. Just the two of them.

And they would smile and they would laugh and everything was still spinning around them and it was blissfull, passionate, affectionnate and in they would join their hands once more and their finger would interlace and once their hands was only one thing, they would lift it in the air with bravery as a victory for their hapiness.

And he would lift his hand in the air, with his king.

And they would lift their hands, hold together, in the air.

And they would yell a victory choir.

King's sword fell on the ground.

And he had his hand on King's chest.

Oh lord, he was too close to King.

Their faces were only two inches apart.

And Janus visibly forgot how to breath.

King was staring with wide eyes, clearly not expecting Janus to send his sword flying nor getting this close. None of them dared move an inch, and none of them could breath.

What... what just happened ?

How could Janus get so caught up in his dreams that he erased whatever was happening in front of him ? And how did this stupid dance from years ago helped him beat the King to his game ? And how could he, despite everything,  try to search for his king's eyes in the tyrant that stood in front of him ?

Right now, the King's red and green eyes were  flickering into orange glimps and his look was just tearing Janus up from the inside. He looked ready to cut his throat open if he had his sword in hand.

And yet …

For only a moment, only for a single instant, did Janus find his King shining through the side in front of him.

Sadly, this bloom inside of Janus' heart got cut fast as thorns grapped him and pulled him far away from his The King, and before he realized what was happening, the thons just gripped tighter and tighter, making Janus unable to hide the jolt of pain.

He struggled, trying to get away from the grasp, but they only tightened and eventually, he stopped, gasping for air. He tried to look back at the tyrant, who was simply observing with a serious expression, the joy of the past moments seemingly dissapeared the moment Janus got too close. And now, he was back to being a threat. Without looking away, he move forward, with slow steps. Janus tried to manage a sentence but the pain was too high for him to form anthing coherent. Eventually, The King was in front of Janus, and the yellow side swore he was about to get killed right on the spot, but instead he just kneeled down, grapping back the sword that flew away.

Oh.

He got up and, with the other hand, brushed over the blade. Without looking away from it, he spoke : « You fought well. » He lift his eyes to meet Janus, struggling not to faint, and determined to look at him with rage. The corner of his lips twiched into the smallest of smirk and he turned back, opening the gap between the two.

And as the King took his steps, Janus' eyes widened, realizing what King was about to do.

'No.'

'No. Not again.'

'Don't leave. '

'Please'

'Don't leave me again. '

He turned into a snake to got away from the thorns and rushed towards him, ready to grip his cape. Anything. Anything but that. He was so close...

But the thorns got Janus back before he could make it.

He couldn't even hear his own grunts of pain. All he could listen to was the sound of footsteps, and a windblow that made King dissapear. Janus froze in place.

And the silence that grew in the room was deafening.

After what felt like an enernity, the thorns let go of Janus, who simply fell on his knees shaking. He hugged himself as hard as he could, and curled on himself.

He tried to fight back tears that wouldn't stop to threaten to fall.

And none of them ever left his eyes. Just like no wound ever left his heart.

------------------------- WHOOOOOO What a ride! This was really fun to write and the challenge of putting words on the visuals your head come up with is certainly something. Now, I hope you didn’t expect things for them to get better just like that, huh? ;) There is too much they need to discuss before being close to make peace, so that’ll have to wait! I have other ideas for those two so I’ll see if I get motivated to write it out. Hope you liked it!! :D

#Sanders sides #fanfic #janus sanders #king creativity #Kingceit #fanfiction #King!AU #rondoel #swordfight #The begining of Janus being a pinning disaster with a lot of emotional bagage #probably OOC #not a happy ending #Janus being a nostalgic little man #and King being conflicting as always #most probably screaming internally at the dramatic disaster in front of him #It's not easy being the king of a himbo's brain

[jtsfavslut]

Falling [G.D]

Description: Just when Y/N thought she was over Grayson, he pops back into her life, making her wonder if you could fall for the same person twice. Inspired by ‘Falling’ - Harry Styles. 

Warnings: None, Just sad stuff lmao!!!

Word Count: 4K+

Also a special thanks to cole [ @blazedgraysons​] for keeping up with my annoying ass questions while I wrote this, and for helping me and giving me advice I love you <333

   Her small feet carried her body down the familiar street, cars zooming past her as her body softly bumped into the others around her. The loud sounds from the environment being blocked away by the soft, yet loud music that was coming out of an old pair of Airpods she had gotten for Christmas back in High School.

This was Y/N's daily routine. Get up early in the morning, do her business in the bathroom, get dressed, and walk over to her favorite cafe. The Beachwood cafe had become Y/N's second home ever since she moved to L.A, spending most of her time there, before and after class.

A smile lit up her face as the familiar blue door came into her view, a content sigh falling past her lips as she got closer to the door.

The strong smell of coffee hit her nostrils as she walked inside, music being paused as she walked fully inside, giving her attention to the cashier that greeted her every morning, "Hi Y/N, your stuff is on your table," she smiled up at Y/N before pointing towards her usual table.

It was the one by the window in the corner of the shop, the bright yellow and blue floor illuminated her small journey to the table, where her coffee and breakfast sandwich happily waited for her to approach. She sat down, hand reaching into her Yellow Kanken backpack, another Christmas gift from high school that she dearly took care of, she pulled out a brown journal and a pen.

A journal filled with memories and random thoughts that popped in her head. Y/N thought writing things down was good for the mind and body. She believed that writing things down would help you keep your thoughts safely, and lock memories into place without overworking your mind. A pen that has been through many journeys on the same yet different page.

All pages were the same until the pen went over it, recording things until the end of time. They were all the same until she wrote down her thoughts for the day.

Her small hand gripped onto the pen as she wrote down her thoughts from the previous night, coffee cup in the other hand as she slowly sipped the liquid.

Last night I thought of him again, just until I drifted off. I don't know why. It hasn't happened in months. Nothing bad, just a memoir of all of our memories together. Like the time we broke into the school's pool one night. Where he pushed me in with all my clothes on, then he jumped in and we made out by the stairs. Funny how we never got caught since cameras were around us. Or when we had our senior trips to the mountains in Colorado, and how he kept sneaking into the girls' room just to be with me. We were lucky we didn't get caught again. I tried to not keep thinking about him. I know it's time to finally drop it and move on, but how? How do I erase all those memories from my brain? How am I supposed to just drop it and move along? Just how? I don't need or want to know why just how.

She softly slammed the notebook closed, right before she could feel a slight burning in her eyes and a rock starting to form in her throat. The subject of her and a past lover that she was still holding onto, still being a deep wound to her.

She thought about and remembered Grayson every day. After all, he was her everything during her entire High School life, and he still was…...sort of.  Grayson and Y/N started dating in the 9th grade, right about in the middle of the year. He asked her out behind the school's bleachers during lunchtime, a mixture of flowers from his mom's garden that she shyly accepted from him after she said yes. That was followed by their date to the movie theater, where he held her close to him every time she faked being a little scared, not that he could tell, and three dates after he officially asked her out where she said yes again, and that was followed by an accidental kiss, he was leaning towards her cheek when she accidentally moved her head to the side, causing his lips to land on hers. Neither of them complained, just smiled at each other and carried on.

They went on for 6 years, all of high school and two college years, where he decided to break it off because of distance. He went off on how being across the country from one another was hard, and the fact that the time difference from New York to California was 3 and 4. She didn't complain. Didn't give a reason as to why not, even if she had trillions of them. She didn't try to change his mind. She simply said okay, and wished him the best. She still loved him though.

The words that her grandpa had spoken replayed in her brain every time she questioned why she still thought about him; "You never stop loving anyone sugar, you just kinda love someone stronger. If you stop loving them, then you never loved them to begin with" She thought about that, and that made her feel better. Maybe there was someone out there who she would love more than she loved Grayson.

With a quiet sigh, she put her journal away, switching it with a book she picked up at the library a few days prior, yet read a million times.

To Kill A Mockingbird is a book she read many times in school, mostly everyone has. It's the one book from school she actually enjoyed, so she picked it up from the book shop down the street from her apartment before work one day, and didn't get to read it until now.

She opened the book with a small smile, the sensation of the book against her finger bringing nothing but happiness to her, and took her mind off whatever was bothering her. She lost herself in the book, almost done with half of the book before her alarm rang, signaling it was time for work. She left a 20 on the table after putting all her stuff away in her backpack and walking out of the shop and towards her job which was a paid internship at a local hospital downtown, all she did was watch and help out with minor cases like cuts, sprains, X Ray's and the occasional stuff like questioning. She entered the hospital, sanitizing herself and changing into her uniform, walking over to her area, that being the Pediatrics Emergency room where her boss, mentor, whatever you might want to call him, Dr. Reyez, and the rest of the team were waiting for her.

"Morning everyone," she chirped at the tired yet awake health care workers, who all had smiles on their faces. "Morning Y/N, you're going to be practicing by yourself today, can you handle it?" Dr. Reyez asked her, which she just nodded her head with a smile. There wasn't a single ounce of doubt in her brain.

"I'm pretty sure yes! And I can just reach out to you guys if anything, right?"

"Yeah, just page us if anything. Your first patient should be here soon, just go wait by the desk," Reyez instructed her and that's exactly what she did. She sat on the desk for over 20 minutes until someone came in with a toddler covered in rashes.

"Hi baby, I just need to ask you and mommy a few questions, yeah?" She sweetly and patiently asked the 5 year old as his mom was filling out some papers, to which he just nodded his head.

"Okay, Xavion, did you eat something new today? Maybe something you've never eaten?" She asked and both the mom and son nodded their heads.

"Do you think he was allergic to something?" The mom asked, causing Y/N to shrug.

"Well, it depends. We need to get an allergy test for him. It doesn't hurt or anything, we just scratch and pour a drop of the allergen over it and see how they react. Mom, do you happen to remember what he ate today for the first time?" She replied by recording some notes down on her clipboard before telling a nurse to get an Allergy Antibody Test ready.

"He ate everything that he usually does except for some broccoli I gave him," the mom replied and Y/N nodded her head before writing it down on her clipboard and walking them to the testing room.

Once the results came back around half an hour later, Xavion was, in fact, allergic to broccoli, and other things that Y/N had to explain to the mother. She got about 15 minutes of break time before Reyez called her another minor emergency.

"It's an 11 year old, possible breakage or sprain to the leg, you can handle this one right?" He asked and she nodded her head, "Good, they're in room 217, good luck," he added before sending her off to the room.

She quickly made her way over to it, grabbing her clipboard on the way, "Hi, I'm Dr.Y/LN, I'm going to be taking care of you guys today! May I have the child's name and date of birth please?" She nicely asked as she walked inside the room, quickly walking over to the desk area that was in the corner and placing her stuff down.

"Uhhh, Caleb Dolan, August 17, 2008," a deep voice that she could recognize from anywhere spoke as she turned around. Her heart dropped at the sight of Grayson in front of her. She tried to reassemble herself, after all, she couldn't make any mistakes right now, Reyez was trusting her and she couldn't afford to mess the opportunity up.

"Caleb, August 17, 2008," she mumbled as she wrote it down on her piece of paper, "Caleb, do you mind telling me what happened, babe?" She asked with a smile on her face. Her smile turned into a small frown as she looked up at the boy who happened to be in pain.

"Me and uncle Gray were practicing for the soccer game that's next and I fell on the mud and hit my leg really hard," he explained as she walked towards him nodding her head.

"On a scale of 1 to 10, One being okay while 10 being the worst, how would you rate the pain?" She asked, walking over to the walk to grab a pair of gloves, putting them on, and walking back towards him.

"Uhh a seven," he replied and she nodded her head.

"Okay Caleb, just know this might hurt a little okay? It's just protocol to check if it's dislocated, broken, or sprained okay?" She asked and he nodded his head, a few tears falling down his face from fear. Grayson quickly leaned down to wipe off his face whispering a quiet 'you'll be okay' as Caleb grabbed his hand.

"Can you try and move your ankle for me? Just try and move it," she explained and he muttered at quiet yes before moving his foot in a slow circle, she nodded her head before placing both hands over his ankle checking for any bumps, which there were none to find, "Luckily for you Caleb, it's just sprained! There are no bumps meaning it's not dislocated, and you can move it meaning it's not fractured! Just to make sure, we're going to need an X Ray' just to make sure there are no hidden surprises yeah? Dr. Lindsey will do those with you, and I'll be right here when you come back," she smiled up at the boy before Dr. Lindey moved him to a wheelchair and took him to the X Ray room, leaving Y/N and Grayson alone in painful silence.

"So this is what you do? This is where you work?" Grayson was the first to speak after a couple of quiet seconds,

She cleared her throat and nodded her head, placing her hands inside her white jacket, "Yeah. It's a paid internship so it's basically a job, what about you? What are you doing here?" She asked to make direct eye contact with him.

"Moved here after me and E graduated, looking for some roles and an agent," he spoke, his voice not as deep yet shakier than when he first spoke.

"Any luck with that?"

"Yeah. We've landed a few small roles here and there," he answered and she just nodded her head.

"That's good! I'm glad everything's working out for you," She gave him a genuine smile before continuing to fill out Caleb's paperwork.

"Listen, I know it's been 2 years but-," Grayson began to speak before Y/N cut him off. "-Grayson just don't. I'm at work right now, and it's enough seeing you after 2 years, but I don't really need this right now. I'm sorry," She apologized before leaving the room to get some papers before walking back in, thankfully Caleb was already in the room when she walked in.

"I'm going to wrap your ankle up with this and then you're good to go, buddy. Make sure you don't apply pressure on it for two weeks. And carefully when you're playing any sport, I don't want you back here," she said while wrapping his ankle up carefully. She gave Grayson the discharge papers, their hands touching each other for a split second before she pulled away waving them off before walking to where her team was.

"That guy was looking at you intensely," Reyez pointed out, earning a glare from her.

"Don't even start," she rolled her eyes before taking a sip from her water bottle that was on her desk.

"Wait is that the?" Jacob, one of the nurses, asked and she nodded her head.

"Yeah, that's him," she sighed, shaking her head.

"Holly shit Y/N, I knew you said he was hot, but girl? That man is hotter than-,"

"Mackenzie, don't you dare," Y/N joked towards her other co-worker, "God why do you do this to me? I was almost over him and then you put him on my path again? The universe hates me,"

"I'd go for it again if I were you," Mackenzie encouraged earning a glare from her.

"Alright, leave her alone before she starts to crumble, Mackenzie go fill out reports, Y/N go take a breather," Reyez ordered them around and they all nodded their heads, going on their way to do what they were told.

. . .

Soft snores began to quietly run past her lips as she drifted off to sleep, all before a feeling of suddenly falling down an empty whole woke her up. She shook her head letting out a quiet 'fuck' before turning to look towards the clocks on her nightstand, 3:30 AM being brightly displayed on it. Y/N let out a loud sigh, knowing she wouldn't be going back to sleep anytime soon.

Her mind suddenly clouded with knotted thoughts and notions, too many of them just to focus on a single one. She pushed her body up, just enough for her to reach over and grab the small yellow backpack that she lazily threw on the floor, pulling her journal and pen out before throwing it back on the floor.

She clicked the pen and opened the journal, blank pages waiting to be filled up, her hand delicately moved along the paper as she scribbled letters and words on the empty pages, thoughts clearing out of her head, one by one.

I saw him today. He looked different. He's grown. After it all, it has been two years. His voice is deeper too. He wanted to talk, but I said no. Maybe if I did, I would fall for him again, or something. I'm doing just fine, so why did he have to move here. Anyway, Reyez finally allowed me to take care of patients by myself today. It was fun, I liked it, I guess. Luckily I'm free tomorrow because I can't sleep at all now. Maybe it's the repeating thoughts of him running through my mind, or just simply the lack of melatonin in my body right now. I'll probably go to the park tomorrow, stop at the cafe first then make my way there, but anyway, I'm going to try and sleep now.

It was a quick entry, nothing special, just her major thoughts being written down, just enough for her to feel better. She got up from the bed walking over to the kitchen grabbing a water bottle before leaning against the counter and sipping it. She crossed her bare legs over each other, looking out of the big window in her living room. Her favorite part about the apartment? It was the window that looked down on bright LA city. Y/N could sit there for hours and not notice the time pass by, she knows this because it happened before. She left the kitchen and walked towards the window, propping her body down on the small couch she had in front of the window. She laid her head on her hand, watching the few cars that sped down the street, the small yet bright red lights disappearing into the distance as her eyes followed them until they could.

Her eyes softly closed as she laid down on the couch, drifting off into another universe. The next morning she woke up at around 8 AM, doing her daily routine, except she stopped at the Cafe, picked her things up, and made her way to the park. It was an old park, there was an old playground that seemed like it hadn't been used in years. She sat down on an old bench drinking her coffee as she watched the scenery.

She didn't take her notebook out, her mind not having any thoughts, or at least no thoughts relevant enough for her to write down. She just took her time to take her surroundings in. She admired how the wind moved the trees, yet they were so strong they didn't crack. The way the birds lifted off whatever surface they were, and drifted off into the sky. She admired the rare butterflies that randomly appeared just to disappear once again. She simply admired the earth, something that she didn't do quite often; Always being too deep in her thoughts to actually study the things around her.

"They're beautiful aren't they?" Grayson's voice spoke out of nowhere, making Y/N do a slight jump in her seat as her heart raced.

She brought her hand up to her chest, a sigh falling past her lips as she glared at Grayson who was chuckling, "You fucking scared me,"

"Sorry," he sighed, sitting down next to her.

They both let out sighs. Both knowing that there was no escaping the conversation that was about to happen, a conversation that was long due.

"You could, hmm, you could go first," she spoke after a few moments of silence, throat dried making her clear it in the middle of some of her words.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. You were working, and Ummm, it wasn't the right place or time to talk about things. I'm also sorry because I never gave you an explanation as to why we should've broken up. After all, you didn't ask anyway," He softly spoke. He thought every word through, studied each meaning before letting them run past his lips.

"I didn't ask because it's what you wanted. Your decision was clearly made. I mean, I don't think breaking up with someone is a spontaneous thought is it? Your decision was made, and if you felt like I was holding you back, then I had to let you go, if I loved you, then I think I did the right thing." Her words were careful too. And quiet, so quiet feeling that if she spoke too loud the things around her would break.

"I didn't want to break up. I felt like it was the right thing to do, you know? We were always so busy, and we made time for each other, but it was exhausting. And when you were out with friends, I felt like I was annoying you or something," he sighed and she shook her head, the thought of her ever getting annoyed at Grayson's presence being absurd.

"Oh God absolutely not," she chuckled, "I thought I was annoying you. Like I wondered if you talked about me, or not. I wanted to know if I annoyed you because I felt like I did,"

It was true. In her journal, multiple pages were filled out with her question herself on whether Grayson talked about her or not. Even after the breakup, she wondered if he'll ever need her. Most pages were about him, all of her thoughts revolved around him, always.

"I did. All the time, to the point where I said your name subconsciously," he smiled, remembering the conversations he had with his friends about her, and how great she was.

"I did too, well not say but write," she sighed, leaning her back on the bench.

"You wrote about me?"

"Grayson you know I did, that's a dumb question," She shook her head, taking a sip of the coffee that was somehow still warm.

"Do you still write about me?" He asked and she stayed quiet, not knowing whether she should answer truthfully or not.

"Honestly speaking, I do. I write about everything that comes to mind, so sometimes? Yeah," she sighed, knowing that it would be easier if they just told the truth.

Maybe this was the closure that they both needed, yet never got. Maybe this was going to help her fully move on from him, and have thoughts that don't include her.

Or maybe not. Maybe this would help them reconnect. Y/N left it all up to the universe. She was a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, and that you can't change your future since it's already written about. When she got home after a couple of hours she took a shower, lit on her favorite candles, and did the expected. She took out her notebook and wrote.

We spoke today. He told me the reason why we broke up. It wasn't an intentional meeting though, I was just admiring nature. I was looking at the butterflies I think. He randomly spoke. And I know it was long due and needed so I just told him to say it. It's better to just get it over with than to just keep pushing it back, I think. He told me why he wanted to break up, which right now, sounds like a valid reason. I just wonder why he didn't just say it back then. It would've saved me a lot of nights, don't you think? He now knows I write about him, and where I go to write about him. Maybe I shouldn't go there anymore. It sounds out of this world I know. But maybe, just maybe, I should just close that chapter in my life.

There are just too many memories of him at Beachwood. That's where he surprised me the first time he came to visit. And it's where I write about him the most. I could find another cafe near here, there's plenty.

I just wonder if we're ever going to see each other again. If I'll ever fall for him again, if that is even possible. Because I don't think you could fall for the same person twice, right?

That was the last page in her journal. All the pages filled with her delicate letters, her writing being eternal. Filled with on-going words until the end, where an unanswered question laid. The weight that was once on her shoulders began to fade, and for once in her life, the thought of her future no longer made her afraid.

 This is the first time I’m proud of a something I wrote, so if this flops, I will deactivate! Just kidding, sort of. Anyways, yeah, I feel like my writing has improved, and as always, if you have any tips, and/or constructive critism, please, please, please drop them in my inbox, and don’t worry, I won’t say your hurting my feelings lmfao!! 

Tag List:   @guiltydols @evergreendolan @ydolanssss @rhyrhy462 @resilientdolan @simplyxdolxstyles @simplyxdolxstyles​ {If you wanna be added to my Tag List, just let me know :) lol}

#gothly writings #grayson bailey #graysonbailey #grayson #grayson x oc #graysondolan #grayson dolan #grayson bailey dolan #grayson x you #grayson x reader #grayson x y/n #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan x oc #grayson dolan x y/n #grayson dolan x you #grayson blurb #grayson fic #grayson fluff #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan concept #dolan twins #dolan twins imagines

[peachyteez]

angel nurse ≫ DAY THREE, LEAP OF FAITH

this fox hybrid was brought into the recovery facility covered in scratches, whip marks, blood, and every other injury you could imagine. due to this, yeosang has trouble trusting humans, as he was afraid they could just hurt him all over again. until he meets jiyu, his “angel nurse”.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @jaeminpeachy, @joongiebug, @sunsethw4, @t-tbinnie, @chanyeolol, @danibookmarks, @hello-its-ya-boi, @murralyn, @alienmashup, @panini, @moon8894, @koasworld, @taetae123094, @luv3rxcha, @treasure-hwa, @etherealbyeol, @hwaseongzzz, @lovely-sanie, @orbitiiny, @pirate-of-the-dark-seas, @babydolljo, @ms-starlight, @everrrlasting, @bls-luv-me, @atzgiggle, @arohabyeol, @rainbowmagicpixecorn, @soverystupid, @ayetothezee, @kingalls00, @sanstreasure0305, @sparklingmallow, @peachseok

✧ notes: seojin is a made up character! refer to the following to maybe play a little game? ⬇️

if you can guess who i visualized seojin as, there may or may not be a little surprise :)

hint: i visualized him off a webtoon character!

hint: said webtoon has to do with vampires

there’s also a small description of him in the story 👀

back。| next。

yeonjun pinched his nose bridge as he tried processing his dear best friend’s words. “so how do you plan on helping him recover if...you’re not going to see him in person?” he asked. 

jiyu bit the inside of her cheek in thought. “i haven’t figured that out yet. but i don’t think it’s a good idea for him to be exposed to human interactions yet. he seemed so closed off and unwilling to cooperate when i came in yesterday.” she said.

“but do you really think he’ll warm up to people when he’s in there by himself?” yeonjun asked. “it’s not like he'll magically—”

“i know, i know,” she groaned before running her hand through her hair. for once, she was stumped on what to do. she didn’t want to force him to break his walls down, but she didn’t want to leave him alone for too long. 

“maybe i can ask taehyun to talk to him?” yeonjun offered. “he told me they’re friends.”

she shook her head. “i don’t want to make it look like we’re using his friends to have him cooperate. if anything, it could push him further into his shell.”

yeonjun quietly chuckled before ruffling her hair. “well, seojin checked up on him earlier and he looked to be okay. physically, he looked to be recovering from his injuries, but he looked to have a lot on his mind, according to seojin anyways.” 

seojin was one of the hybrid assistants that the facility employs to help patients settle into their new, temporary living space. jiyu remembered him; he used to be one of her former patients before getting adopted by a new family. after settling in, he decided to return to the facility as a caretaker assistant. coincidentally, he was assigned as jiu’s hybrid assistant. small world.

“is that so...?” she mused. “where’s seojin? i might ask him a few questions.”

“last time i saw him, he was in the break room.”

making a beeline for the break room, she saw the familiar tabby hybrid sitting and sipping at his milk carton. 

“oh? miss jiyu! it’s been a while,” seojin greeted as jiyu took the seat across from him. jiyu did a double take at how much he had changed compared to the last time she saw him. he was no longer a small, frail tabby cat hybrid; he now looked to be thriving, buff might she even add. he even dyed his hair red, although a bit darker than mingi’s.

“why does no one ever listen to me when i tell them to drop the ‘miss’?” she playfully groaned.

“sorry, force of habit,” he chuckled, referring to his time spent under her care. “but what’s up?”

“you checked on the new fox hybrid this morning, right?” she asked. 

one of seojin’s ears twitched as he tilted his head. “the grumpy one? then yes, i did.”

“you say that as if you weren’t grumpy yourself,” she wryly commented with a chuckle. “i had enough scratches to tell.”

he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “anyways, yeah, i checked up on him this morning. poor guy seemed lost in his own thoughts. he spent most of the time looking out the window with this distant look in his eyes,” he recounted. “i managed to get his name, though. it’s yeosang.”

“yeosang...” she said to herself. the name sounded so smooth as it rolled off her tongue. “is he...better?”

seojin pursed his lips. “i asked him if he was willing to let people here help him, but he seemed to shut down at the thought. but i gave him a small pep talk, too so there's maybe a slim chance that his mind cracked a little.”

she thoughtfully nodded. “i can understand here he comes from though. being abandoned by people you love into a harsher reality is never fun. nor will it be easy to forgive,” she mindlessly commented. “but i need to check up on him sooner or later, i can’t just leave him in there by himself for who knows how long. i just...don’t know how to approach him,” she said, wracking her brain for any new ideas. 

“maybe you just need to show him like how you did with that tiger hybrid. hongjoong, i believe was his name? during my visits with him, i saw how he changed after each day,” he said. “coming from a hybrid that was treated here, we all come in a little skeptic and hesitant about accepting help from humans, when they were sometimes the root of our problems and why we ended up here in the first place. but you all never gave up on us, and still treated us with care and kindness. it may be part of your job description but we all still appreciate your efforts since we never received much prior to being here.”

jiyu was touched by his words, and also found solace in them. she was glad that majority of the hybrids found comfort and love here. after all, that was the primary goal of their recovery process: to accept a helping hand from their caretakers, form a trust connection with them. “...i’m glad to hear that.”

a small grin was plastered on seojin’s face. “what i’m trying to say is, yeosang might be a little bit more closed off than the others, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t yearn for love and kindness like the rest of us.” finishing his milk, he stood up to throw the carton away and leave. he bent down and booped his head with her’s, giving it the smallest of nuzzles. “i’m sure your hybrids won’t appreciate my scent on you, so take this small nuzzle and good luck!” he childishly grinned before leaving the break room. 

watching the tabby cat hybrid leave the room, she chuckled as she watched his tail sway back and forth before she was left alone with her own thoughts. “in a way, i guess he's right...she mused to herself. “alright then, i’ll pay him a visit tomorrow,” she promised herself, the plants by the windowsill being her only witnesses. with the promise, she left the break room to return to the office. as she passed by yeosang’s room, she resolved her promise again.

in his room, yeosang was curled up in the hospital bed as he replayed the conversation he had with seojin a few hours before. 

“will you be willing to allow the people here to help?” seojin asked as he joined yeosang by the window, looking out at the different hybrids wandering around with their caretakers. 

yeosang was silent. he still didn’t know if he could take another potential betrayal. how would he end up? where would he end up? looking back down outside at the various hybrids, although he would never admit, he was envious of them. envious at how they were able to open up so easily to others, envious at how they were able to smile freely without a care in the world, and envious at how they managed to form a connection with other humans. 

seojin observed yeosang’s expressions and slightly smiled before returning his gaze back outside. “i was here once, too,” he admitted, earning yeosang’s attention. “and i had jiyu as my caretaker, too.”

yeosang remembered the female that came in the previous day and inwardly cringed at how awkward they regarded each other. 

“and i was like you, too. got hurt pretty bad by my old owners, not to mention other people when i became a stray. and not to mention i gave jiyu enough scratches for a lifetime,” he chuckled. “but she never gave up on me. she always came back at the same time, whether it be for medical checkups or just for a casual hello—”

“why are you telling me this?” yeosang quietly interrupted before feeling a sharp pain on his side. grimacing, he clutched onto his side and slightly bent over from the unexpected pain. 

seojin immediately helped him to sit back on the bed before checking his wound and changing the bandages. while preparing the cotton ball and tweezers for the ointment, seojin gently smiled. “i told you because i thought maybe it’d help you relax a little bit while being here,” he said before spreading ointment on yeosang’s gash. “maybe if you heard some personal experiences, maybe i can help you open up a little.”

after changing yeosang’s bandages, seojin started preparing to leave. “maybe give jiyu a chance. i can guarantee she won’t harm you. actually, she’s more prone to accidentally hurting herself rather than others,” he laughed. “see you tomorrow!”

and with that, the door slid shut behind seojin.

yeosang sighed, staring up at the rectangles on the ceiling. it was a constant game of tug-of-war in his mind. ‘yes, maybe she’s different and you can open up’ but also, ‘no, you’ve been through too much to risk it all again’. it wasn’t like he wasn’t taking seojin’s personal experience into consideration, it was just...opening up again was hard. 

how did others do it? how did they find it in themselves to be open and friendly with humans again, when humans were the reasons majority of them were there in the first place? 

either they have guts of steel, or i’m just a coward. he thought. but the scars and marks on his body were constant reminders of his old life. a life full of pain, anger, distress. fear. he never wanted to feel as much fear as he did ever again. 

but he realized that he would never be able to escape his bubble of uncertainity if he just wallowed in it. if he continued to stay how he was, he would never break the cycle of doubts.  

taking a deep breath at his revelation, he closed his eyes and steeled his nerves, making a promise to himself.

i’ll take the leap of faith. whether or not it turns out well, that’ll be fate's decision.

#9th member of ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #kang yeosang #kang yeosang imagines #yeosang imagines #yeosang scenarios #ateez yeosang #hybrid au #kpop hybrid au #hybrid!ateez #ateez hybrid #ateez au

[genevievemd]

The Ultimatum

A/N: Alright, So I am PISSED after that chapter. We are going backwards in our relationship and I ain’t having it lol. So here’s some angry angst for your reading pleasure or displeasure. Probably displeasure cause this is gonna hurt. Grab your tissues, my dudes. I have done us dirty. 

Takes place the night of Edenbrook closing, before we see Leland outside our apartment.

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Genevieve McClure)

It’s impossible to know what the future will bring...But I can see as far as tomorrow. 

Ethan’s words have been floating around in her head all night, like an echo in a never ending cave. To anyone else, it may have just been a statement on the uncertainty after Edenbrook has finally closed its doors. But Genevieve knows better, to her it’s more. Another sign of Ethan’s refusal to commit, go back on his word and leave her in the dark. 

She had assumed after his very public outing of their relationship at the gala that they would simply fall into each other. Start their relationship and no longer have to hide behind secret glances and hidden touches. But the past five months have proven her wrong, there was no sign of commitment, no gesture taken or word spoken that proved to her that he wanted this. That he wanted her. 

She’s been sitting outside his building for at least the last hour, fiddling with the idea of going upstairs. She wants answers, wants some sort of sign that she means something to him. She had called Sienna when she first arrived, asked for advice but it didn’t help. Didn’t stop the anger and fear from bubbling up. It was like a weight on her chest, pushing her down into the darkness of uncertainty and heartbreak.

With a breath she stands and makes her way into the high rise, using the code to unlock the lobby doors. Her confidence gets her into the elevator and to his front door. But she stops, hand raised to knock but seemingly stuck in limbo. Much like their relationship. Genevieve takes one final deep breath before knocking, waiting on bated breath for the man that would either make her whole or break her heart. 

“Genevieve?” 

“Can I come in?” 

He doesn’t answer, simply opens the door wider. Her steps were determined, focused. She was here for one reason and one reason only. 

“Do you want a drink or..” Genevieve hears him close the door behind her before moving to stand in front of her. 

“I’m not staying, I just needed to say something.” 

“Do you want to sit?” She can see the worry on his face at her refusal to go any farther than the door step. 

“No. Just stand there, please.” 

She takes a breath to settle her rage, to try and hide it the best she can, but the look on his face says he sees right through her attempts and straight into the fire that’s surely blazing in her eyes. “You said something today and I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop replaying the last 6 months, honestly. And I - I can’t keep doing this, Ethan. One minute you tell me that you’re afraid to lose me, afraid to let me out of your sight. Then the next you act like nothing has changed. Then we go to a mountain resort and you basically tell me you want to be in a relationship but only in secret. Then you kiss me in front of the entire goodman hospital. And now...I don’t understand.” 

“Gen-” He moves to touch her, but she steps back. Hand raised in defiance. She knows if he touches her, she’ll lose her nerve. Fall back into his arms and right back into the cycle of non-commitment. 

“Don’t. Just don’t.” She can feel the tears in here eyes, burning like the fire in the pit of her stomach. A fury she’s never felt before. “You said to me once that there was no such thing as a romantic relationship between an attending and a resident. That it was nothing more than lust fueled by spending so much time together. Is that what I am to you? Just some resident you can fuck? Because if I’m nothing more than a game piece to you, a way to get your rocks off tell me now. So we can end this before I -” 

She can’t bring herself to look at him, to see whether there is truth in his eyes. “You keep going back and forth and I’m exhausted, Ethan. I’m so tired. One minute you want me, then the next you’re saying you can’t see a future with me.” 

“That’s not what I said.” 

“No you said you can’t see past tomorrow. Which to me sounds like you don’t care enough about this, about me, to picture a future. You really don’t see us together next week? Or next month? Next year?” 

“I- Can we just sit down and talk about this, please?” There’s a brokenness in his voice, a whisper of hurt and it crushes her already fragile heart. She never wants to be the one to cause him pain. 

“No. No more talking, no more sitting. No.” She backs up until her back is pressed against his front door. “I love you, Ethan. I’m in love with you and I have absolutely no idea how you feel about me. I have no idea what I even am to you. A fuck buddy? Your girlfriend? A play thing? The woman you love?” 

The tears are free flowing now, rushing out of her like a waterfall.

“Did you just come over here to fight?” There’s venom in his voice and rage in his eyes. Like a predator that’s been pushed into corner and the only way out is to fight. 

“No! I came here because I need you to make a choice. Right now. Commit to this fucking relationship or I’m out. I can’t keep going around in a circle like this, I can’t take it anymore. So you have a choice to make, Ethan. I’m leaving the ball in your court because I’m done chasing you around. You know what I want and where I stand. So you either need to break things off and let me go or prove to me that I mean something to you. That this relationship means something to you.” 

“Genevieve.” He reaches for her again, taking a few steps forward until they’re only inches apart. 

She can see the pain in his eyes, the fear creeping into the features of his face. Their breathes are shallow and small. Like they’re both afraid that anything more will be their undoing and it very well may be.

“Make your choice, Ethan.” 

“You can’t just march in here, give me an ultimatum, and then expect an answer right away.”

“Yes, I can. Because if the roles were reversed I wouldn’t even hesitate. There’s no question for me, on whether or not I see a future with you. On whether or not I want to be with you. But clearly there is for you.” Genevieve wipes the tears from cheek, it feels like her heart is breaking. Crushed into a million tiny pieces that make it too hard to be whole again.

“It’s not that simple.” His voice is no more than a whisper, a plea given in a moment of desperation.

“Yes it is.” Genevieve reaches for the door handle, hands shaking and vision blurry. She opens the door with a deep breath, turning to face him, for what could be the last time. “Call me when you have an answer.” 

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

a/n: I’m so sorry. I have wounded us all. brb gonna go restart the books so I can feel joy again. (also do you want me to do a part 2? with ethan’s answer? I mean we all know what his answer will be, but I will gladly write it for us lol)

taglist: 

@queencarb, @overwhelminglyaquarius, @me-and-my-choices, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @crazy-loca-blog, @a-crepusculo, @drakewalkerfantasy, @ohchoices, @adrex04, @udishaman, @drariellevalentine, @custaroonie, @archxxronrookie, @terrm9, @maurine07

let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

#ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart second year #open heart fanfiction #grab your tissues friends #she's a doozy #ethan x gen

[darling-archeron]

this is as good a place to fall as any + feysand for the fic request thing? angst would be good (;

ask and you shall receive - i hope you like angst. I may have used this as personal catharsis and it came out as one of the rawest, and, in my opinion, most painful things I’ve ever written. Not super edited, but I hope you enjoy!  <333.

TW for minor mentions of suicide

Music in the Night

It was the end of another infinitely long day, and Feyre found herself on the roof of the townhouse. The same place she had spent lazy nights with Rhysand, curled up with the stars until dawn. They had once promised each other infinite nights like this, filled with love and whispered secrets and lazy touches.

This time, she was alone.

She had gone out into Velaris by herself today, walked the streets, and been with her people in a way that she hadn’t in years. It had left her bone-weary deep in her soul. After the war, when what was left of her family returned to Velaris, she had been too broken by her grief to mingle with her people. The only thing she was aware of was the emptiness of the void in her head where such life had once flowed. The funeral had been hell, numbness coating her mind and tongue when the priestess asked if she would say a few words.

After she had finally picked herself up, convinced herself to keep going, there was so much to be done. Simply going for a walk never seemed to make the list. Mor had kept Velaris running for years, but she didn’t rule the entire court. And Feyre had never run anything of the sort. It wasn’t long after he was gone that she realized how much Rhys had left to teach her, how much he had not known himself. It had been exhausting as she turned all her energy on fixing the Court instead of looking inward at the dark shards within herself.

 Learn as best as she could from Mor and Lucien what it took to rule, to heal rifts with the Hewn City, who barely recognized her as High Lady, and to Illyria, who only began to respect her once she showed what she was capable of. When they had time, she did physical training with Cassian. Continuing to explore the facets of her magic had been harder. The two beings who might have taught her something more about it were gone.

So for the most part, she gave herself over to her court. They deserved that much. It was nights like these when she allowed herself self-pitying, angry, sorrowful moments. Just her, the night sky, and a bottle of whiskey she had swiped from Rhys’s huge stash. The roof seemed as good a place to fall as any. To ask the Cauldron why so much of the good in her life had been taken. To ask why she always seemed to end up alone.

Because Rhys…Rhys had been taken from her. She had loved him with a passion and fury she knew had been called foolish. But the only foolish thing about their love was how she hadn’t seen the end coming, hadn’t realized that he would sacrifice everything he had to heal the cleaved Cauldron. And when Rhys was truly gone, and even trying to bring him back as he had done to her hadn’t worked – she didn’t reflect on those moments. Ever.

She had survived poverty, Amarantha, and being made, the Ouroboros, and the War. She had been born a fighter.

It hadn’t stopped her from reaching for a knife to turn on herself on that battlefield, in moments when everyone else was too distracted. Azriel had only just stopped her, and there were days she could still feel the sharp kiss of the blade on her chest.

Most of the time – most of the time she was glad she hadn’t done it.

A breeze came up, and Feyre shivered. The backs of her thighs were beginning to dig into the roof.

In the emptiness of the weeks that had followed, she found that she hated silence. Because there was never again going to be passed jokes and musings down that bridge of gold. Never again going to be music sent to her in her darkest moments.

The townhouse became emptier as well.

 Amren had sacrificed herself to end the war. Elain had eventually left Night to pursue a life of travel, slowly healing from the horrors she had witnessed. Lucien was building alliances on the continent, though only after he had been convinced that she wasn’t going to fall apart. Nesta…was complicated. She still lived in Velaris, off of accounts Feyre kept filled, but she barely saw her sister anymore. Feyre wasn’t sure which one of them was more broken, some days.

Mor needed out of Velaris too. Feyre knew she was losing her mind. Though no physical wards kept her here as they once had, she couldn’t abandon the duty she had. Because she didn’t think Feyre was strong enough.

Feyre still doubted herself every step of the way. Because in the end, she did blame herself. She had made a bad choice with what mattered the most, hadn’t seen that his final “I love you” was not a declaration, but a goodbye.

He had known what she would want to believe, apparently known her better than she had known him.

She had always been a fool for a happy ending. Had always wanted it for herself. Her mate had helped her believe that she deserved it until she saw it herself. She had been a dreamer in a Court of Dreams.

Feyre watched the city below, taking a swig of the whiskey. There was a revel in the streets a few blocks away, the beautiful, seductive music taking away the emptiness that lingered in her head.

The Night Court needed a strong leader. They deserved someone who dreamt of a better world, who wasn’t falling apart. And as much as she was unqualified, she knew she had to learn. And as much as she had wanted to let the world fall away as she descended into her grief – she had made a vow. To Rhysand, to her people, to herself. To deny that – it would make her an utter failure.

So, she had forced herself to become that person, and learn to lead, to play the games of Court. To heal wounds the war had ripped open. A leader with an iron heart and mask of steel.  

The one thing she couldn’t learn again was how to forgive. She couldn’t forgive Tamlin, or Hybern, or herself. No matter how much Mor and Elain beseeched her. Elain had dragged her to the same mind-healer that she had been seeing in Dawn. Not a daemati – but someone who focused on emotional and psychological wellness. After a few visits, she had stopped going.

She needed closure, Elain had told her. It was easy for her to say. Every inch of this place didn’t remind her of their father. How could you find closure when the wound was ripped open again every day?

Another swig of whiskey and the music grew louder. A sob hiccupped in her throat, and she pushed it down. She wasn’t drunk enough to stop caring yet, and if she started crying now she would never stop.

She wondered how the history books would be written, sometimes. Human and Fae alike. Would the fae praise how she had defeated Amarantha, or as time went on, would the ballads and stories be edited and brushed under the rug to hide how helpless the faeries had really been? Would they tell how she fought her way across that bloody plain, each swing of her sword for a better world?

Would the elegies they painted eulogize Rhysand properly?

Would they tell how she had let him die?

She shook her head violently, strands of hair shaking free from the tight braid she had pulled it back into. She had cut it to shoulder length a few weeks after the war – practically a cliché from one of the books she had read. Since then, she had never let it grow back out.

She wouldn’t let herself think of all she hadn’t done now. She had done that enough – days where nightmares tore her from sleep and she replayed those minutes on the battlefield over and over, trying to find a different way.

 Instead, she thought back to what that healer had told her at the Dawn Court. She had given Feyre breathing exercises she couldn’t remember now, and she had told her that it was okay to talk about them. It had all seemed so useless at the time.

Elain had found catharsis in it, though. She didn’t just talk about their father – she talked to him, she had confided.

Another swig of whiskey – longer, this time. It burned as it went down, and it made her buzzed enough to say what the hell.

“Rhys?” She whispered, so softly. She had never – never spoken to him like this. Screaming his name as she was torn from his arms in every last nightmare, yes. But this - she had always thought it would hurt too much.

“I hope that you’re happy, Rhys.” She knew that he thought he was Lord of Nightmares, that wherever he went after he died wouldn’t be pleasant. It was something she had been working to slowly changed his mind about, making him see that he wasn’t damned.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t stop you – didn’t realize until it was too late. I didn’t find any other way. I know – I know that you wouldn’t have had it any other way. That you didn’t want to stop me. But I’m so sorry and I will never stop regretting and hating myself for it –” Her words broke off with a sob as she finally let the tears come. “And if you can somehow hear this – I just need you to know that I will never stop loving you. And I’m trying my best to fill the void you left behind, to be the leader everyone needs me to be.” For a while, the only sound was her breathing and the distant music as her words were swallowed up by the night.

She sniffed a little. “Do you remember our last night up here? It was just a few days before we left. Did you know you wouldn’t be back?” Another long pause, like she was giving him time to reply. “I’m sure even then you were planning. But I just remember – we were up here, it was a night a lot like this. No wine or lingerie – it was just us, the stars, and the city. I fell asleep up here, in your arms. You told me stories of your adventures years ago. The time you and Azriel got lost in Malwich and – well, I never heard the end of it. I was so exhausted. Do you think Az would tell it to me if I asked him?”   

Silence echoed as the distant song wound down.

“I miss you.” She said quieter than ever, barely a breath. “You spent your last breaths telling me that you loved me…and I never said it back. Because I thought I would have a million more times to say it, and so you never heard it that final time even though I’m sure you knew –“ Snot plugged up her nose and she sniffed again, voice ugly and cracking. “I love you, Rhysand.”

She buried her head in her arms as the music slowly started up again. It slowly grew louder until she could make out a familiar tune.

Feyre could have laughed. It wasn’t the music Rhysand had sent her Under the Mountain. It was an echo of it, an answer to the original piece’s question. The haunting melody and drifting notes filled her head and her soul. They chased out the awful silence and made her feel new, if only for a moment.

She recalled back when she was human, laying in her cell as that music floated down. She had drifted somewhere in the clouds, seen faces she couldn’t make out. Just as it had been then – as she gazed out at the unclouded sky, she could have sworn she saw Rhysand peering back at her with love in his eyes – for just a moment.

Perhaps just a trick of her eyes, of a desperate soul. But as she gazed up at those bright stars, she didn’t stop the tears from falling.

I love you, Rhys. 

She stayed out there long after the music had died down until she could see a hint of dawn’s rosy hue rising over the Sidra. The memory of the song echoed in her head, keeping the silence at bay.

#kate's writing #acotar #acomaf #acowar #feysand #feyre #rhysand #sjm #sarah j maas #acotar fic #angst #my writing #acotar angst #fic #tw suicide mention

[jayyisntcool]

Villain (Darkiplier x Reader)

Summary: Actor is jealous of Darks S/O

Warnings: Angst, Kidnapping, Slight violence

Pairing: Dark x Y/N

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

For as crazy of a man Mark was, he was damned smart. Smart enough to realize that if it was his story, he could rewrite it. So that's what he did. Making a situation where Dark had to protect you, making Will go into a sprout of anger. It gave him just enough time to grab you, and Dark was powerless to stop it.

You had done everything you could to escape Marks manor. The windows wouldn't break, Mark left your door locked, and when you did get to go out, Mark held your arm to him. You couldn't contact Dark either, and it seemed as though he couldn't enter the Manor. If he was able to, he would've taken you through the void and away from the madman.

The creaking of the staircase made you sigh, you were tired of replaying the same situations a million times over. Mark would bring you food, try to convince you to stay with him and 'Let him rescue you', agree to let you go back with Dark, then somehow make sure you never got there. It was always the bad ending. How many times have you been through this? It was hard to keep track. You didn't exactly remember the events, it was fuzzy, only certain pieces sticking to your memory.

The door clicked, the man unlocking the several locks on the door and letting himself in. "I brought you some food, Y/N. Chef made it special for you, Iberico Ham topped with White Truffle and Saffron." He sat the plate down on the nightstand, taking a seat on your bed. You scooted away, making him scowl.

"Thank you." You spoke, motioning to the food. It smelled great, but you weren't hungry. You hadn't had much of an appetite since you arrived here.

"Now, Darling-"

"Don't call me that." You snapped, Darks nickname for you sounding like venom off of Marks tongue. He chuckled, shaking his head.

"Now, Y/N, we need to have a serious conversation." The actor spoke. Had he rehearsed this speech to perfection? He never changed a word, except what food he had Chef prepare for you that day.

You cut him off, not caring to hear the monologue again, "I need to choose between you and Dark, blah, blah, blah. It's my choice, it always will be, I call the shots, you just want me to be safe and away from him. I get it. I remember. Your tricks get old, Mark." You turned to him, holding your legs to your chest.

He frowned, "Not exactly what I would have said, but yes. I only want the best for you, dear. I only wish to protect you and keep you away from the harmful evils that I have rescued you from." You shook your head. It was hard to stand up to Mark, not because you didn't want to, but because of who you used to be. He used to be your friend. God, you two even dated years ago. It hurt seeing him, it hurt to know that the Mark you knew was just another role.

"If protecting me is keeping me locked in a room away from the people I care about, then I'd say you're doing a damned good job." The tone of your voice caught Mark off guard. It wasn't that this wasn't how you usually reacted, but nonetheless he seemed surprised. Did he really think you would change your mind?

"I am the hero! Why do you keep running back to the villain? You're supposed to pick me!" The man yelled, standing up roughly and pulling your face to his. "You will pick me. Eventually, you will get tired of making the wrong choice. You will forget about Dark and you will do whatever I wish." He pulled away, opening the door and motioning you out of it, "Go on then. You've made your choice. Return to that monster."

You did what you were told, walking out the door and through the mansion, making it to the front doors and quickly sliding out of them. Just as you had done before. What would your fate be this time? Another gunshot wound? Chef beheading you? Perhaps something more exotic, like a tiger jumping out to rip out your heart. It didn't matter, you'd do the same thing tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that.

You cautiously walked down the steps, pacing down the road that led away from the manor. It was peaceful in a way. To get this small bit of freedom. It was the only tranquil moments you had in this loop of suffering. You looked behind you, seeing Mark watch you out the window. This was further than you usually got, he never fully let you make it to the gates.

You jumped when you heard the sound of cracking glass, looking around. There wasn't anything that looked dangerous as you approached the gates and opened them. You took a step out, was this it? Was he letting you go? You made a sigh of relief before your vision went black, the air around you suddenly going cold. It felt as though you were in the void, but it was different. Where as the void was more of a lack of any temperature, here was cold, cold enough to make your skin burn.

"Well, it seems that you've finally figured out how to get through my barriers, Damien."

"Don't call me that. Damien is gone, you know that better than anyone." You smiled when you heard the voice, as distorted and distant as it may be. You turned around to see both your lover and your capture, standing at opposite sides of the darkness.

Mark grinned, "Very well then 'Dark'. I would have appreciated a warning before being pulled into-"

"Shut your mouth. You know why we're here, and you will let me leave with them." Darks tone was full of anger, his shell splitting and the colours behind him flickering rapidly.

"Oh that pretty plaything? You care about them don't you?" Mark spoke with a chuckle. You heard the cracking of glass, now from behind you. You took a deep breath as Mark disappeared from in front of Dark and appeared behind you, his hand wrapping around your waist. "It's truly a shame they didn't just listen to me. It would have been far easier to go through y/n than you." He spoke, pulling your hair back and holding you still. "You know," He continued, "My loop, my games, they don't affect anything here. It would be a shame if... Something were to happen."

"Get away from them!" Dark snapped, stepping towards the two of you.

"Ah, ah, ah." Mark spoke, raising a blade to your throat. "Come closer, and I swear I'll make them look like Jack's glitch bitch." He spoke coldly.

"I thought you were the hero?" You spoke, hating to fit in to the Damsel in Distress cliche. Mark chuckled, leaning in close to your ear.

"Hero's will do anything to defeat the villain, it is the greater good, dear."

Dark stood still, popping his neck. "What do you want, Mark?" He spoke, his shell slowly starting to calm down and return to normal.

"Me?" Mark questioned, smiling as he slowly pressed the tip of the knife closer to your throat, "To make sure the villain never gets what he wants." Marks tone had grew cold. He was no longer just playing a game. You had no doubt he could kill you without a second thought. If he had done it before, surely he would do it again.

"Give them to me!" Your boyfriend snapped, his body glitching violently. "They chose me! You hurt them! You ruined their chance at normality!" He yelled, multiples of him forming before merging back to him. "You cannot expect your games to work if you cheat the player."

Mark suddenly pulled the knife away from you, using it to talk as he used his hands. "It is my game! My rules are final! I have-" He was cut off as Dark suddenly appeared in front of him, the knife flying out of his hand and Darks hand reaching the actors throat.

"You are scum, do you understand me? If you ever come near me or y/n ever again, I will personally be sure that you are ripped into two. Now run back to your amenities and leave us be." Dark spoke calmly, smiling as he did so. Mark just laughed, not seeming to care. Dark quickly let go of Mark, grabbing you and pulling you into the void.

"You'll come back! You always come back!" Mark yelled after the two of you, still laughing as he did so. You held onto Dark as you arrived back home, at his manor, burying your face into his neck.

"I was so scared that I was never going to see you again." You spoke, smiling as you realised that the nightmare was finally over.

Dark returned the embrace, resting his head on yours, "I will never let him get near you again. I swear to you, I will do everything to protect you." He spoke quietly.

"It's not your fault it happened. You were protecting me and he used that against you." You spoke, only getting a nod from the demon. "I love you so much." You mumbled, making Dark chuckle.

"I know, darling." He spoke, rubbing your back, "Now let's get you cleaned up. A nice bath, some dinner, and then a movie and bed." You smiled, knowing Dark wasn't a villain. He never truly could be, not to everyone. He cared about you, he cared about the other egos. You followed him to the bathroom, your mind finally calming for the first time since Mark had taken you.

If Dark was a villain, than you were happy to follow.

#darkimoo #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier #a heist with markiplier #markiplier wilford #markiplier x reader #mark fischbach #markiplier #x reader #antisepticeye x reader #dark x y/n #jupiterfics

[rwmhunt]

Leviticus, Chapter 23

1. Substitute day, and a return unto A sender of something, as to another place, That hasn't the wherewithal to get there either; I will open it again and learn That which is already known to be such As isn't so much.

2. And it's not mine, but a, And is the right way round. For as I set the seasons, I reprise, reply, replay; It's substitution day.

3. And Sabbath is the seventh, Whence the lord, in all thy dwellings, Is up for doing nothing; Or Sabbath is the sixth; I don't care.

4. And welcome to my channel, It's great to have each of you still with me- A man who speaks of people By their purpose, Himself as his own singer, With- such are the seasons, Even, holy convocations, For want to be sure of a constant, It's Senhal, An obscure term For an old friend.

5. Love, love, lo, this is not Of a cloven love, Leviticus, I will speak of it Unto sundry strangers and neighbours, As just one more month's dusk Then it'll be passover, Not once. Not twice, Not once. Love. So we can still imagine a time When all of this will go again;

6. But a day will approach When, if there is something That can look back, Could think that 'here' and 'then' Are really very close;- And I wonder if they saw The strings of direct attachment, Lining their behaviours; Just flour and water, But I don't think so; Still, anytime was closer to history than this one, So what do I know?

7. If I were to put the onus On to the impossible, Then what was light-hearted and playful, Would be wont to become ridden and surly; Lord, being an influencer is a serious endeavour, For how many unsuccessful oblations are there That are out there? Lo, state your appreciation; Don’t just wing it. Plan it out in kalends, Of which are reckon'd to be backwards; so, To start, do nothing.

8. After a week, Let's go- Gift your influencers' grift, For, when you so do this, It strokes the ego of the flames, Who then add unto the savour of sacrifice, Thus, get me it up; Make it smolder, Then, use its fatal nature To activate the future.

9. And simple: These are nacks, To muster control Over gods; Are junk and have been; That we all have interest vested- Let ignorance of it control Hereafter, same, so anon and amen.

10. Crowdsplain- First fruit the priest Hard and long, Find the tunnels, Writing what's impossible For the brain to conceive, That it may then be read back of, To supplant and supersede; So become possible.

11. And thither, the Wheatchief Will wave the sheaf Tomorrow- See how it goes? Ol' Cathode Ray, and Non-mathmatical aesthetic identities, The spirit of the radio take her.

12. That once the sheaf And all the while Be specific unto thy niche- Nativize unto thy platform, For, the experience shall follow The rhyzome's swerve and function, So that the user-expectation be wrought From whence the contents be placed- In this case, Add in a lamb shank ponzi scheme to my platform; Smells wonderful.

13. So unto the titular character, Exerting such low level leverage as Begetteth me of an ephah cake, And a quarter hin of wine; I don't need the free stuff, I am a successful influencer, But shouldst you want me to advertise for suckers On my platform that I have built myself for free; Well, we're all getting along so good.

14. Then it's me first, And simple: see- That our boldest endeavours, And most exciting adventures- They have not yet even begun; That, in spite of all the detritus, In the teeth of all that we've done, my boys, I tell you: The best Is yet To come.

15. Then, 49 days later, Seek whence Thought might come in sequence, And I'm really so blessed and thankful to you all for being here; So, as thought comes  in sequence And thus, it wasn't known where We are going here as we begun. O tensions, retensions- I use to used to run.

16.  Know, influencers, I am the hype; So on-brand that I can give unto you, And through you, the trick- Pyramid that still stands For the thousands- Round it up; So nice.

17. And, super relevant- Optimize continuously, also, Compensate me handsomely; while Sacrifice may seem like a quick-success marketing strategy, It isn’t so. Such are the things that keep not happening; More food please.

18. Lots more, This is why the burden of proof for rhetorical claim Shall falleth shortly As among the Open Wounde who should maketh of such a claim; It is not upon the world to provide him a fallacy, But he, who's to prove the world its truth; which, Across all channels, He, rerewise, hath been completely unable to do.

19. So suffer him his own precarity; And then some; Think back to when, Twirrup twipip,-pwiwip, Suwee, psu, swoo swsoo, So sweepeth they in song, As we, quiet, Through our blossom comedown, That hideth our tiny singers, And the bulgence behind the wiltage, In the verges, Be of burgeoning seed.

20. And everyone wave; All this- so good as is it to be; And though under a hail Of black tormentors, Our torment, And through its over-drone, With no one remembering it happening, But, who'll remember the photograph?

21. Sit back; You've lost everything, So lo, olah, you remember how mother died- Bringing cow parsley into the tent of meaning; For she went by the umbels as we'd walked on the plain, And they had reminded her of those lace cushions That her ladies-in-waiting had carried, And so gave them the name.

22. Embassadors, Leave thy corners to disillusion; A true influencer ideally keeps doing What they genuinely gain of a passion for. They know their value and their need is not to shew it, So spend a lot of time reading news and sharing opinions with others online. By buying-up dozens of potential plots, They help to plot the exodus to less, And stake an astronaut over the shape of a woman. But politics isn’t about the weird worship of one dude, So his words became their actions.

23.  Is it worth your time To try and ignore that, if, What you are listening to Is  the most effective form of advertising- A babbling of a technique That hath impostulated language, Then, should things go well, We may even be able to rend a cross-paracleation With phantom trust-collaborators, Interested in guest-posting for backlinks and exposure, Thus, marrying into micro-influencers, And so tap into our y.

24. But be consistent: For my favourite casts come out the same- Here, crowdplain how a seventh month is a Sound the trumpet month; See how it goes? Lo, but half of me struggles with the whimsy Of the other side that's yet so entranced; No, I'm not sure why, it's just the way I feel.

25. Down tools, more please. Gnaw your own head off. All things positivity- and It is always negotiation; Not: You bring it to the tabernacle, I sing- There is no shortness of spirit In opinion To be cut down. Equal positives, so unto Those things that keep not happening.

26. There are voices you hear of, As quoted as begetters of insightful opinion, Who art themselves never made extant, Being only reported hereto as sources, And lo, that they are the influencers. And I'm super curious as to know what you guys think; Please be sure to leave your comments amid the margins.

27. Thence, afflict thy souls, For, tis atonement day- We're ten into the seventh, And the snap's back when I was An offensive lineman, And the pass sent over- The big lie, long, long to the long deceiver, Ah, burnt offerings- How original, Best look unto the analytics, And if they give you not access there unto , Verily, you are going to have to fight, Fight as peaceful as Sheol, Down, deep down and dirty- I'm not going to call it off.

28. Down tools; Atone to the dial tone, No one calls; Let Ladder Capital Createth of the sponsored post- Like many on the medium, To use an ode- I used to play the role; To laugh and laugh; Laugh til I despised all there was to laugh at, And then I stopped, And in the silence, saw what I had done.

29. But laughing is not so bad.

We've been a good wee band. Yes we have. No one is coming after us. And if you're alright, mack, You'll get cut off.

30. So workers got destroyed That day, And Aaron was frustrated, And livid. Reach round; Feel thy spine. The way people stop you From being helpful When you are helpful, So that you cannot be helpful, So that they can cut you From your people.

31. Tardiness in perpetuity, Aye, today, it is Yplangenday- Well, I'll have to put myself Through some more adamantine Paces than god allows, else I'll never get enough done.

32. And be bold, For, you'll need to deracinate; Chancers are toxic vocations Within the tent of meaning; It's content; it's all content- Divide and game, so- Focus and grow. I mean to make sure That you are a consistent- Start of the ninth evening , End of the next.

33. God doesn't eat though, That I can see- For all that we give him, God doesn't eat.

34. Crowd, 15/7, and tabernacle feast week; Still his words became their actions, Shrill, until the doctrine of laches, When the searched-after Faithless elector went libertarian, Like many on the medium, Clade unto such bolled and novel obstacles What stretched where chance was slim, And slim was still in quarantine.

35. To start again, down tools, For, lo, if you want to be in a prison camp, You needst allow yourself the luxury Of being stupid enough to get captured.

36. Sacrifice? Spluttereth the LORD: But I'm fed up with so much burnt rubbish, I wish for forced fresh rhubarb, So shunt and jive; I've Optimized, and optimize continuously.

37. Drinks break; take life indicting, Gratify all at a local craven hire scheme, Go abroad singing, so merrylike, To slough off the whole As one enormous rhyzome. Deus Hic! God is drunk! I heard that, Brian Leg-Coverall.

38. O well done Jehus, And good to be with you, Yes you, Who are good in a crisis; A reminder- I'm working with mischief.

39. Wait, rest again, To live is to live through An embarrassment of times, Damarkated as meaningful riches, That will not be well remembered. Really, I am so blessed.

40. But try to ask of a question; So that thy congregation Might make communion in answer, See how it goes? Say, But why, isn't it A bit like palm sunday? The stream changeth its name As it passeth through each neighbourhood. I knew it as; Well it doesn't matter- You're not reposting, nor liking my banal repartee, So, unfollow.

41. And it goes; for I have giv'n unto them a scapegoat, But they cast it not out; So shall there be a reaving that will follow, and Themselves, they shall be cut off from.

42. Then all ye home-born booth dwellers In dwelling booths, Shall dwell in booths seven days and know That you are living in the rhyzome..

43. And everyone will know that I made you do this- The old booth dwellers, needing my rescue out of Egypt, So weakened,  the Open Wounde stayeth open; And remember to tell us what you think, Way down, deep down, down in the margins.

44. And Mose went about with the crowdsplaining Old loud-haler; A simple fellow out of storybook glen, From the tent of meaning, From the twilight men, He ran and told- And the thing is, They were too clever To not know what they were doing- So the target becomes bios; Is the common psychle, The answer- How would you like it? Is - 'I didn't'. And that therein has a hold and salience, As before tends to be the best time to regret- It is a kind of nonsense. I'm so merry

I'm so merry and sad.

[tefanfics]

Okay, I’m gonna share something special to me with y’all.

I do write outside of fan fiction. I have a character who I’ve been writing with for years. Her name is Rose Wesley (which yes that’s where the name comes from). My best friend and I created characters when we were like 10/11 and Rose and Ashe (her character) have been in the works for years.

So I’m going to share two short snippets with them.

1st short- The first is during World War II. Rose and Ashe were there to assist friends of theirs. But this short is focused on Rose and her soulmate. (Long story short: Rose is a vampire with a bit of witch blood- and a curse she’s unaware of yet- so her soulmate process is messed up causing him to come into her life and within two weeks, he’s dead.) Ashe Calliven is a werewolf. The two are fond of disguises to fight with the men early on.

2nd short- This one features Rose and her friend Vincent, a fellow vampire who served in WWII. Rose is the cause of Vincent and his sister being a vampire. This short takes place in 1998 in the local veterans bar in New Jersey where

———

War was messy and brutal. War was hungry and unforgiving. Its thirst for lives could never be quenched.

Standing inside a nurse’s ward, Rose adjusted the white cap on her head. She slid a Bobby pin in place to keep the cap still. She stared longingly outside outside, wishing she could put herself to better use than working as a nurse.

“Wesley, we need you.”

Rose looked over her shoulder and stepped back into the tent as a new wave of soldiers were carried in.

She spotted a familiar face sitting up on a table in the back of the ward. She gave a very small and subtle nod to Ashe as she watched another nurse patch up a bullet hole in Ashe’s arm.

Her attention was pulled to the ones who was injured far worse. She did as she was instructed, mending to the wounds that could be taken care of and trying to ignore the pleads of the men who couldn’t be saved.

As Rose busied herself with a set of soldiers, sewing up the holes from bullets, she could hear the commotion outside.

Bullets flying, men screaming and fighting, and the stench of blood hit her nose. Normally that amount of blood would’ve appealed to a vampire but not like this.

It grew quiet for just a few minutes before the next wave of injured and wounded were ushered in.

“This one!” Someone shouted. “He’s losing a lot of blood!”

Rose turned immediately, her eyes landing on the sergeant who was yelling. She looked to the soldier they had carried in and sat on whatever free space they could find.

Her gaze narrowed as she dropped the needle she was using to sew up one man. She could feel a tightness in her chest as she stepped away.

“Hey miss, you ain’t done, are ya?” The soldier asked with a cigarette in his mouth.

Rose waved him off as she approached the soldier who had just been laid down. Her eyes searched him as the gears began to turn. The sharp jaw, the hazel eyes that kept trying to flutter open and met with hers every so often, the brown hair now matted with blood.

“No,” she whispered. “No it can’t be.” Her hands began to shake as she put her hands over the huge wound in his stomach, pressing down to try and keep some of the blood in. “No, no, no.”

As other nurses began to surround Rose, her emotions started to take over. It was rare for her emotions to control her but this… this was different.

“I can save him,” she said almost too loudly. Another nurse shot her a look. “No I can save him!” She could feel her fangs threatening to poke out as she looked at the man again. “Cooper…”

At the name, Ashe’s head perked up. She jumped off the table and hurried over to the small group of people. She stood back enough so as not to be in the way but as soon as she looked at the man, she knew. Rose was right.

Rose.

Ashe looked up and caught sight of the look on Rose’s face. “Shit,” she muttered. She could hear Rose’s panic, the way she was losing control. She could see the change in her friend’s demeanor. She weaved through people and found Rose.

Rose felt hands on her shoulder as she began to her pulled backward.

“Let me save him!” She screamed as the tent flaps moved around her and she now stood outside. Her body was shaking as she tried to fight her way back inside but Ashe wouldn’t let her go.

“No!” Ashe cut her off. “No you can’t and you know it.”

If she was able to, tears would have been streaming down Rose’s cheeks. “I have to, Ashe. Let me go back.” The was a catch in her throat as she looked back inside. The flaps of the tent were positioned perfectly for Rose to see Cooper’s face. By now her fangs were protruding. “I can save him and he’ll live forever.”

“We don’t know that.” Ashe sighed as she kept a tight grip on her friend. “We don’t even know why he keeps dying or why he keeps coming back. We don’t know how he manages to find you every time. We know nothing, Rose. And we’ve talked about this- if you turn him and he dies-“

“He may never come back,” Rose finished in a whisper. “I didn’t even get to meet him this time…”

Ashe let out a quiet sigh, seeing the pain written across Rose’s face. “I know.”

She kept her gaze on Cooper. His head turned and for a millisecond, his eyes met hers and he managed the slightest of smiles before he went still. Life left his eyes. And once again, Rose was there to witness it.

——————————

“Vincent, you’ve stomached a lot of that already. Maybe time to drink something else to break it up.”

Vincent stared at the glass on the table before him. To the regular eye, it looked like a Bloody Mary. To Vincent and his friend, it was a mixture of absinthe and human blood.

He lifted the glass and swirled it a little, sighing before lifting it to his lips and swallowing another mouthful.

“S’alright, Rose. I’m a big boy. I can handle my liquor.”

Rose sighed, her eyes falling on the empty glass in front of her. “Wanna talk about?”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Vincent, you’ve had the same nightmares for the last 55 years,” Rose answered leaning back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest. She scanned the room, noting other veterans dotted in the bar. “This is as good a place as any.”

Vincent glared at Rose before polishing off his glass and groaning. “Fine.”

He grew quiet as Rose turned her attention back to him, noting his jacket covered in patches and dawned with his position from his days in the war. She had noticed the looks from other men. Vincent looked no older than 28 but he was bordering on 198.

“Well?” Another sigh escaped from Rose’s red lips. “Vinny, if anyone understands loss… Well you know the stories of Cooper.”

Vincent let his gaze flicker to Rose before standing up, swaying immediately. He ignored the look he knew he was getting for Rose as he approached the bar. “Another please,” he grunted as he stepped between barstools. He looked at the older man a few barstools down. He gave a nod of hello as he waited for the bartender to return.

“Playing dress up?” The man asked.

“‘Scuse me?” Vincent asked. There was a hint of a slur as he spoke, no doubt noticed by the man.

"You here wearing your old man's jacket, kid?"

Vincent smirked. "No, sir, it's mine,” he answered.

The man scoffed as he nudged the other guy beside him, threatening to laugh. "Yeah, sure, like you know what war is,” the man retaliated. “Your hands look pretty clean to me."

"And your face looks too damn blurred, sir."

"Seriously, kid, you can't just waltz into a place like this and play vet. It ain't a good look." The man took a swig of beer as he looked away.

Vincent accept his drink from the bartender but lingered. “I don't like games."

"Me neither. So why don't you get outta here before someone not as nice as me gets mad."

Rose listened carefully from her spot at the table. She could hear every word, every change in tone. And she could hear the slight aggravation in the older man’s voice now as she looked to the bar.

Vinny took a heavy drink of his blood and absinthe mixture. He turned his body to face the man and met his gaze. He stared long and hard until it was as if something clicked in his mind. “You…xl he muttered. "....some asshole threw up on another guy's shoes, and then tried to jump off the boat. Got his head blown off. He was dead before we even hit the beach.”

The older man set his beer bottle down almost too heavily, a loud clank echoing through the mostly quiet bar. His patience had grown thin with Vincent. "Oh yeah? Where was that?"

"Normandy, the day we hit the beach,” Vincent replied simply. “Why do you care?"

The man seemed to hesitate before answering. "It's funny cause I watched the same thing happen. A kid puked on my shoes,” he said. His voice grew softer as he carried on. “Same kid was the first to die on our boat. Guy that was sitting next to him looked like he was trying to help."

"I couldn't, though... He was already gone." Vincent’s voice sounded as though he was in a daydream. His mind began to replay that exact moment, over and over as if it wasn’t already embedded in his mind.

"You say that like you were there,” the man said as his gaze narrows.

"I'm telling you, Andrews, I was."

The man came close to spitting out his beer. "I don't remember telling you my name, kid,” he stammered, eyes wide as he looked Vincent over. Something about him seemed familiar but he could place it.

No more than a few seconds later, a mass of thuds came barreling down the steps in the corner of the bar. Ashe spotted who she was looking for and shook her head. "Vincent!” She called as she approached him. “There you are! Been looking for you all over."

The man perked up as his attention turned to the blonde. "He belong to you?"

Ashe offered a small smile, nodding as she put her arm over his shoulders."Yep. Come on, buddy. I know you miss your grandpa, but you don't need to be hanging around here." She threw a knowing glance at Rose as she spotted her, clenching her jaw.

"Please you're old enough to be my- ow, okay, fine,” Vincent groaned as he felt Ashe pinch him. Reluctantly he set his glass down and started to follow Ashe to the door.

“Go on, Vinny. I’ll be right there.” Ashe looked back to the man, giving him a sympathetic look. "Sorry if he bothered you sir, enjoy the rest of your night."

“Yeah…,” the man managed to get out as he shook his head. He went back to his beer and his friend beside him, still unable to shake off the feeling about Vincent.

Ashe pointed at Rose then to the door. “You? With me.”

Rose rolled her eyes as she slapped cash down on the table and left the table. As she began to walk toward the door, she cast a glance over her shoulder just in time to lock eyes with the man Vincent had talked to. She looked away but could hear his murmurs.

“She… She looks just like that nurse!” He said frantically to his buddy.

Rose could hear the other man leaning back on the barstool to steal a look. Just to appease his curiosity, she turned her head enough for the other man to get a look at her profile. “She does,” he answered, his voice lower. “Must be her granddaughter or something.”

Rose smirked as she pushed the door open and founded Ashe and Vincent around the corner. She noted the way Vincent was leaning against the wall, no doubt too drunk to stand on his own.

“What the hell was that?” Ashe asked, her eyebrows raised. “Vinny about spilled the secret to everyone in that bar. You didn’t think to stop him?”

Rose looked away. She knew she should’ve kept Vincent from going on but she hadn’t even tried. “A man can’t keep those kinds of memories built up,” she answered. “It’ll destroy him from the inside.”

Ashe shut her eyes as she let out a long sigh. She knew and she understood but it was the look in Rose’s eyes that made her agree. “I know.” She turned back to Vincent and took one of his arms, pulling it over her own shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get this meathead home.”

Rose stayed behind for a second, watching the two of them carry on as her own memories flooded back to her. She knew Ashe understood the same pain Vincent was feeling, the same regret and guilt. Ashe and Rose knew better than anyone what war did to a person.

—————

If you read all that, thank you. ❤️ and let me know if you’d be interested in reading more snippets. Also if I need to clear up anything or describe more...(Probably not more on here but my regular account.)

#creative writing #vampires #werewolves #writing #fantasy #fantasy author #wwii fiction #women in wwii fiction #fiction

[theycallmebeccawrites]

One Shot: In the End

With Tumblr holding my original writing blog @beccaheartschrisevans captive (aka flagged as explicit), I have made a secondary writing blog and may end up closing the other all together. In the meantime, I am reposting all of my stories on my new blog.

Title: In the End

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: graphic sex, oral sex, fingering

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

18+ Disclaimer: This work contains sexual material that is for those over the age of 18. By clicking the keep reading link below, you are agreeing that you are over the age of 18 and are not offended by sexual content.

Summary: After a mission goes bad, Steve Rogers is left wondering if there was anything he could have done differently. Especially when you, the woman he has secretly fallen in love with, fights for her life. Has he missed his chance or will it all work out, in the end?

Note:  this is my entry for @angryschnauzer and @feelmyroarrrr’s Lust Actually Smutty Writing Challenge. The trope I chose for this challenge is Friends to Lovers.

This story is also available on AO3.

You hadn’t been assigned to the mission, initially, but then new intel had come in at the eleventh hour that had required your expertise. You’d been game, but Captain Rogers had been hesitant as you’d missed a lot of briefings about said mission and, therefore, were in the dark about a lot and could prove to be a liability.

To make up for this, Natasha had been assigned to give you a quick, but thorough run down of the plan and backup plans on the Quinjet. You had listened intently; using the near photographic memory you had to take in the diagrams and notes she’d shown you.

By the time the jet had landed, you’d been prepared and had confidently told Captain Rogers that.

Then everything had gone to shit. Quickly.

—————

They’d been setup. Or worse, there had been a leak somewhere in the chain. Nevertheless, the mission had become a complete disaster before it had even had a chance to start.

By some miracle, or blind fucking luck, they had all survived, but there were injuries. Most of them were minor, except for one, who was fighting for her life on the Quinjet flight back to the compound.

Steve Rogers always went with his gut instinct, but he had been convinced, this time, to go against it and disaster had struck. He shoved his hand through his hair as he stared down at her frail body and the bloody bandages wrapped around her torso where she'd been shot multiple times.

His usually spunky friend was asleep, thanks to powerful pain management protocols. Although the scans that were flashing across the screens around her (and being sent to Shuri in Wakanda) showed promise of her making it through this, Steve couldn’t shake the guilt at her being in this position. It was his fucking fault. If he had only stood his ground or…

“There’s nothing you could have done differently,” Natasha's quiet voice said from behind him. “We’ll figure out what happened, Steve, but it wasn’t your fault.” She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but it did little to comfort him.

—————

Your whole body ached, especially your torso, as you pulled yourself from the sleepy haze you’d been under. You could tell from the smell alone, that distinct disinfectant smell of a hospital that you'd never been found of, that you weren’t in your private apartment at the compound. It was too dark to see much in the room, except the large figure uncomfortably folded into the chair at your bedside.

“Steve?” you croaked, your voice hoarse from disuse.

He jolted upright at his name and he blinked at you a couple times before jumping out of the chair.

As you watched, he bounded to the door to the room, opened it and called out to someone. Within seconds, the lights were on and the room was full of the compound’s medical team. They fretted about you while Steve stood watch in a corner of the room, seemingly unwilling to leave you alone.

After what seemed like an hour of being poked and prodded, the medical team filed out, leaving you and Steve alone again.

“What happened?” you asked. The last thing you remembered was getting off the Quinjet and, now, you were laid up in a hospital bed.

Steve sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, and then began to fill you in on the disastrous mission that had taken place three days prior. They’d been neither setup nor had there been a leak in the planning, he explained. The intel that had come in at the last second had been an attempt to lure a different group into a trap; a trap that the Avengers had unknowingly sprung too early and gotten caught up in themselves.

“Was anyone else hurt?” you asked when he finished, concerned for your coworkers, many of whom had become your friends.

“A couple of broken arms and some bullet grazes,” he said. “But no one as bad as you.” He sucked in a deep breath and his voice was raw with emotion as he admitted. “I didn’t think you were going to make it when I carried you back to the Quinjet.”

—————

Steve closed his eyes, easily recalling the bloody state of her body as he’d carried her on to the jet. She had been breathing, but not easily, he'd known, for she had taken at least one bullet to the torso. Even over the chaos of the moment, he'd heard the ominous gurgling sound each time she breathed and he'd known she'd been in serious trouble.

Unlike everyone else, who had been armed to the teeth, she had been undercover as an employee of the data center where they were trying to recover stolen documents from, which also meant she hadn't been wearing much Kevlar. (Something he would never let happen again.) Even with the madness happening around him, he'd had presence of mind to quickly deduce that it was her role in the mission that made her the main target for the ambush and he'd charged after her.

It had happened before his eyes. She'd been on her way to one of the side doors and had been shot by someone coming out of them. Once. Twice. And nearly a third, which he'd thankfully been able to deflect with his shield as he'd caught her before she'd hit the ground. Clint had shown up then and had protected his back as he'd got her back to the jet.

The scans on the Quinjet had revealed a bullet wedged in her lung while the other had gone clean through her, missing several vital organs by just millimeters. The second had been the source of most of the blood that had soaked through her clothes. He and Clint had worked together to wrap gauze around her to hold the compression pads to her wounds to help slow down the bleeding. They'd changed it once more, during the flight back to the compound.

The medical team had been waiting for them, when they'd arrived, and she'd been rushed from the runway to the medical wing for surgery.

He'd then sat outside the operating room as they'd operated on her. It had taken five fucking hours. Three hundred minutes of him replaying every fucking second of the mission: how it had gone terribly wrong and what, if anything, he could have done differently.

Tony, Sam and Bucky had all tried to get him to leave the medical wing, accusing him of scaring the medical staff, but he had refused. It hadn't been until she'd been taken into a private room for recovery, that he'd allowed his friends to drag him off. He'd gotten cleaned up, eaten and had gotten a little sleep, but, ultimately, he'd returned to her side and hadn't left since.

—————

You'd fallen asleep again; sometime during or after Steve's retelling of the mission, you couldn't recall, but when you woke up, you weren't alone, but he wasn't there.

"Tony forced him to go to a meeting," the friendly voice of one of the nurses assigned to you said. "He's been here every minute of every day since you arrived. He even stood up to our charge nurse when she tried to kick him out.  He told her that he was the Captain and he wasn't going to leave your side for anything." She chuckled. "Wish my boyfriend was as devoted to me as he is to you."

"I'm not... we're not... he's not my boyfriend," you stammered, caught off guard. You'd only been at the Avengers Compound for a little over a year and, while you and Steve had become friends, you certainly weren't dating.

"If I were you, I'd ask myself why," the nurse said with a wink before she left the room, leaving you alone.

At first, the idea of you and Steve dating was funny, not that you'd laugh for real, as the action made the pain in your torso worse. Yes, he was handsome, but anyone could tell you that just by looking at him. Yes, the two of you got along well and spent time together, but you rarely spent that time alone, it was usually with a large group of people. Even in those times the two of you were alone, you were usually in a common area and open to other people joining the conversations if they felt so inclined.

Still, you wondered, as you stared at the empty seat, was the fact that he'd stayed by your bedside a sign that there was something different in your relationship with him? Was there something different in the way you responded to his presence over, say, Bucky or Sam's?

Yes, you came to realize in the days that followed as Tony required Steve to return to most of his duties, which meant that he couldn't spend every minute by your bed. Instead, he sent a variety of your friends to sit with you for a while, during which time, you realized that you didn't respond to their arrivals as you did to Steve's.

—————

It had been a long, tiring day, but instead of going to his apartment, Steve made his way to the medical wing to visit her. He'd had breakfast with her that morning before Tony had pulled him upstairs for meeting after meeting. He'd gotten many a dirty look from his friend as he'd checked his phone each time a text had come through with a status update from the others he'd sent in his place.

Entering the medical wing, he nodded to the nurses on staff and made his way to her room, knocking and waiting for a welcoming response from inside, before he went in.

Maybe it was the dim lights in the room or the way her face was partially shaded, but he swore her face lit up when she saw him and he felt an excited thrill race through him when he saw a wide smile spread across her face. It was the first real smile he'd seen on her face since the morning of the mission.

"How was your day?" she asked him and then she smirked. "We both know your minions kept you up to date on mine."

He felt his face flush slightly as he sat down in the chair next to her bed. "I just didn't want you to be alone," he said, apologetically.

"I know, thank you," she said, holding her hand out to him.

Scooting the chair closer to the bed, he took her hand, cradling it delicately in his larger one, unable to not notice how it fit perfectly within his. Looking up at her, he saw that her eyes were focused back on their hands and there was a smile on her face.

—————

Despite his busy schedule, Steve always showed up at the end of the day to spend some time with you while you were cooped up due to your injuries. Sometimes the two of you would hold hands and sometimes you wouldn't, but he always made you feel like he cared about you.

He was with you, a week after the mission, when the doctor told you that you were well enough to be released from the medical wing, but not allowed to be on your own, quite yet, and asked if there was someone you could stay with.

"She can stay with me," Steve offered, almost immediately. Then he looked back at you with a blush on his cheeks. "I mean, if you want to."

You nodded your head, not even bothering to say the words aloud. You wanted very much to stay with him. You weren't ready for the two of you to go back to being casual friends.

Two days later, he led you into one of the spacious apartments reserved for the high-level staff, of which, he was. Though you didn't need him to, he cupped your elbow, in support, as he gave you a tour of his home. The truth was, you didn't need his help to get around, but you didn't want him to think you didn't want him to touch you. Because you did.

Being alone with him, having those quiet, private conversations with him in the medical wing, had awoken a new set of feelings for him that were anything but friendly. You'd even had a dream, or two, while in the medical wing, in which real memories you had of talking with Steve throughout the compound had become distorted to the point that they were about you and Steve making out or having sex instead.

New images sprang to your mind after he showed you his bedroom. There wasn't anything spectacular about it, just large, masculine furniture and decorated simply shades of blue-gray. He showed you the guest room, next, and, while it was nice, it wasn't a comfortable as his room had felt.

—————

Steve had faced temptation in the past, but never in the form of a half-awake beauty standing in his kitchen wearing a pair of too big pajama bottoms and a bulky sweatshirt. She'd been in his home for a week now, but he couldn't remember a time before she had lived with him and he didn't want to. She brought a new air to his apartment that made it homier and, for the first time ever, he couldn't wait to come home after work.

He'd had feelings for her, romantic feelings, before the mission, but he had ignored them. But after she'd been hurt and had nearly been killed, he could no longer keep them at bay. He was in love with her and he wanted to tell her, but he wanted to wait until she was strong enough on her own before he told her. The last thing he wanted was for her to think she had to tell him she loved him too for fear he'd throw her out if she didn't.

The right time came roughly two weeks later, after she'd been back in her own apartment for a week and been back at work, in a limited role, for a week. They'd gone back to their routine of hanging out in common areas, but he always walked her back to her apartment so they could spend some time alone, too.

It was on the couch in her apartment that he closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath before he turned to her and took her hands into his.

She looked up, then, and met his eyes, giving him a small smile that both calmed his nerves and added to them.

"I hate that you got hurt," he said, trusting his gut to lead him through his confession. He felt her hands stiffen slightly in his and tried to calm her by caressing the back of her hands with his thumb. It worked, slightly, so he plunged on. "But if you hadn't, I never would have realized that I loved you."

He didn't know how he expected her to react to that, but he hadn't expected her to yank her hands out of his grasp and get off the couch. She paced in front of him, wringing her hands as she did so. Every now and then, she'd glance in his direction then look away, but she said nothing for several minutes.

Finally, he saw her take a deep breath, as if bracing herself, and then she spoke, without looking at him. "I think you should leave," she said so softly he didn't think he heard her correctly. "Please. Leave. Steve." Her voice was stronger the second time, but there was a noticeable quiver to it.

Instead of waiting for him to do so, she quickly made her way into her bedroom and had the door closed and locked before he'd even gotten off of the couch.

He stared after her in shock, not having a clue what had just happened. A part of him wanted to storm after her and demand that she tell him what was going on, but then he remembered her wavering voice and knew he couldn't do that.

Instead, he got up, walked to her front door and took one last glance at her bedroom door before he locked her door and left the apartment.

—————

You sat on your bed, listening for a sign that he'd left. After hearing the gentle closing of your door, you waited a couple more minutes, to make sure he was really gone, before you opened your door a smidge to check. The living room was empty and you let out a sigh of relief that became a choked sob full of despair.

Sinking down on the sofa, you buried your face in your hands and didn't fight the tears that had been building since his declaration of supposed love. You'd been waiting for him to tell you he loved you, but not that way. Not out of guilt for you getting hurt.

You'd overheard Sam and Bucky talking one day when they'd had a "shift change" while you'd been in the medical wing. They'd obviously thought you'd been sleeping, but despite their hushed tones, you'd caught the meaning behind their exchange: Steve felt guilty for you getting hurt. You'd always known he took his job to heart and didn't like it when a plan didn't go the way he planned, it was a quality of his that you'd always admired.

At the time, you hadn't put any connection to him spending so much time with you together with him feeling guilty that you'd gotten hurt. After all, the two of you had been friends before. But now…

"I hate that you got hurt," his voice echoed in your head. "But if you hadn't-"

You shook your head violently, trying to get the words out of there, but they kept repeating. Kept reminding you that while you'd been falling helplessly in love with Steve Rogers, he'd been keeping you company out of pure guilt and claiming, now, that it was love.

Still on a two page long, restricted activity list, which meant you couldn't use a punching bag to let out your frustration, you did the next best thing. You stood up and went to bed, burying yourself under the blankets as you cried, willing yourself to fall asleep.

—————

"You look like shit," Sam stated upon entering Steve's apartment, a couple days later, without as much as a courteous knock, Bucky behind him. "Did you even shower this weekend?"

"What do you want?" Steve asked, glaring at his friends.

"Well, it's Monday and you missed a meeting," Bucky stated as he sat down in one of the leather chairs in the living room. "Tony offered to come check on you, but we thought it was best if we did."

"We figured it might have something to do with a certain other person deciding she overdid herself last week and needing another day or two to rest," Sam said, trying to lead the conversation.

Jaw clenched, Steve glared at his friend, who then declared, "Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner, folks."

"Did something happen between you two?" Bucky asked in a more sensitive manner than Sam appeared to be able to manage. "You two seemed to be getting close."

"I thought we were," Steve admitted, running a hand over two days growth of stubble on his chin. "So, I told her I loved her and she threw me out of her apartment."

He didn't miss the look his friends shared before Sam inquired, "When you say that you told her you loved her, how exactly did you say it? You did say it right, you didn't throw yourself at her, did you?"

"Of course I said it," Steve snapped, glaring daggers at him. "I told her that I hated that she got hurt, but if she hadn't, I never would have realized I loved her."

He didn't need the looks on his friends' faces to tell him what he'd heard in his own retelling of his declaration of love. Instead of the romantic gesture he'd meant by the words, he only heard a guilty man declaring love.

"Fuck!" he cursed. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

"At least you figured out what went wrong," Sam offered, unhelpfully. "So now what?"

—————

It started with little gifts randomly showing up on your desk, when you went back to work on Tuesday, knowing you couldn't hide in your apartment without a lot of questions being asked. The little trinkets were meaningless to most people, but they held meaning to you and you knew they were from Steve. One had been a little Scottie dog figurine that had a startling likeness to the dog you'd had growing up, a nod to one of the first conversations you and Steve had shared. Another had been a Hufflepuff House magnet, that reminded you of your attempt at explaining the Harry Potter books to Steve. Similar conversation reminders appeared over the next couple of days and you were on edge, slightly, expecting Steve to appear out of nowhere.

He didn't though. He didn't even refer to himself until a bouquet of daisies, your favorite flowers, appeared on your desk at the end of the day on Friday, exactly a week after you'd asked him to leave. As flowers usually do, they created a stir from the other ladies in the department, but even without seeing the card, they all seemed to know they were from Steve.

"He's so thoughtful," one of them said, wistfully. "You really are lucky to have started out as friends before becoming more."

"I could have saved myself a lot of trouble if I had done that instead of marrying my first husband," another agreed. "I thought we'd be seeing more of him around now that you two are together."

"We're trying to keep it private," you said, clutching the unopened card to your chest. "Keep it separate from work, you know." It wasn't a lie, you and Steve had been keeping that part of your relationship private, from nosy coworkers and friends.

It was another five minutes before they exited your area and you were able to finally read Steve's card. In his fine hand, he'd written just three words: I love you.

There was no explanation, no excuses, nothing that could have justified the little leap your heart made at those words written in his own hand. You'd always known Steve to be a simple, uncomplicated man, despite the fact that disaster seemed to follow him, and knew that he meant those three words.

Without any direction as to where he might be, you followed your gut and headed to the common area where the two of you had had your first conversation, not even waiting for your shift to be over. Sure enough, he was there and, as if he could sense your presence, he turned and looked at you as you stood in the doorway.

—————

Steve hadn't been convinced she would come, but there she was, standing there waiting for something, but for what? Did she want him to go to her? Did she want to go somewhere private? Whatever it was, he had a gut feeling it wasn't something bad. If it had been, she wouldn't be here, smiling at him like that.

He stood up, bringing an abrupt end to the story that Clint was telling. He was oblivious to everyone around him, except for her. His rising from his seat had propelled her into the room. As if pulled by an invisible magnet, they found themselves meeting in the middle of the room. He brought his hand up to dry the tears from her cheeks and then had the sudden urge to kiss her. So he did.

And she kissed him back.

At some point, the sounds of catcalls, wolf whistles and clapping broke through the bubble that had formed around them at their initial movements. With the sudden realization that they were very much in public, Steve set her feet back on the ground, unsure of when he'd actually swept her off her feet, and smiled down at her, slightly embarrassed but more interested in getting her alone.

Knowing they had to let their friends abuse them a little, just to get it off their chests, they stayed for a little while longer before they went to his apartment.

Despite wanting to take her directly to his room, Steve reminded himself that there was an important conversation that needed to happen first and it couldn't wait. He led her to the sofa and pulled her down so she was sitting next to him.

"Before we go any farther, I want to make something perfectly clear," he said, taking her hands, ironically resuming the exact position they'd been in a week prior. "Did I feel guilty after you got hurt? Yes." He tightened his grip on her hands instinctively, but it proved to be unnecessary, as her hands didn't even flinch. "But only because I'd gone against my gut instinct and let others convince me you wouldn't need the extra bulk of Kevlar." He felt her squeeze his hands gently, as if encouraging him to continue.

"That guilt has nothing to do with my love for you," he said, his eyes staring into hers. "If there is anything about my love for you that I do feel guilt over, it’s not telling you sooner." She blinked in surprise and he smiled.  "I've been in love with you for so long that I don't know when it switched from being your friend to wanting to be more.

"I ignored it though, I didn't want to ruin what we had," he continued. "But then, that day, when I realized you were in trouble and then had to watch you get shot twice before I could get to you, before I could protect you..." His voice trailed off as the memories came back to him.

—————

You could feel the break in his voice all the way to your soul as the man you loved crumpled in front of you, the emotional strain of the last week, hell, the last month finally catching up to him. To both of you, you realized as you felt tears on your own cheeks.

"I love you, too, Steve," you told him, letting go of his hands so you could wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace. "I don't know how or when it happened, but I realized that I loved you when I was recovering from surgery."

Sensing he needed some strength, you pushed him back against the cushions of the couch then straddled his waist. You spent the next little while telling him you loved him in between kisses. First on his face, then his lips, then his neck and then his lips, again, the words slowly being replaced by longer, more passionate kisses.

"No," he whispered, when you reached for the hem of his shirt. "Not out here."

He stood up with ease, despite the fact that you still clung to him, and carried you into his bedroom, his arms wrapped around your torso and your legs wrapped around his waist. He set you on to the middle of the bed and then pushed you back against the blankets as he began kissing you again.

—————

A disappointed sound escaped her swollen lips when Steve pulled away and sat back on the bed, his breathing heavy. He'd enjoyed kissing her, but he wanted to go farther, but wouldn't until she was ready to do so.

"Do you want me to go?" she asked, quietly.

"No!" he answered quickly, grabbing her hand just in case. "I don't want you to leave. Ever. But I also don't want to do anything you're not ready to do."

"I'm ready for everything and anything," she said in a shy yet confident voice. "As long as you are."

Steve nodded his head and turned back to her, his eyebrows shooting up when he saw her pull her shirt over her head, revealing a simple bra that cupped her breasts perfectly.

"Your turn," she said as she let the shirt drop to the floor.

Standing up, Steve yanked his shirt over his head, dropped it, and then, with a quick glance at her, undid the fastenings of his pants and let them fall to the floor at his feet. Only realizing, as he tried to step out of the pants, that he was still wearing his shoes.

Her melodic giggle filled the room as he nearly fell over in an attempt to take off his shoes without sitting down. Admitting defeat, he sat down on the bed, pulled off his shoes and socks and then kicked his pants off.

Rolling his head towards her smiling face, he said, "Checkmate."

—————

A flush spread across your face as you stood up, his heavy gaze upon you. Wanting to avoid the situation he'd found himself in, you slid off your ballet flats and nudged them out of the way with your foot.

You took a deep, calming breath as your hands found the zipper of your work trousers that was on your hip. Slowly, you slid the zipper down and then wiggled your hips a little to help get the probably a little too tight pants down over your hips and bum. Once past your knees, the dark trousers pooled instantly at your feet.

Steve held a hand out to you and you took it, using him to support your weight as you stepped out of the pants. With his encouragement, you got back on the bed and sat beside him.

He leaned into you, his mouth finding yours again while his hands touched the bare skin of your torso. His touches started innocently enough, but then rose higher to your bra and then under your bra. You sucked in a breath against his lips as his fingers brushed against your nipples for the first time, sending jolts of desire through your body.

He teased you around the satin fabric of your bra until you couldn't stand it anymore. Reaching behind your back, you unclasped the now-offending item of clothing. Pulling away from him, you rounded your shoulders as you slid your bra off, revealing your naked breasts to him for the first time.

The bra slipped from your hand as he pushed you backwards so you were laying down. He positioned himself next to you and, ever so slowly, began to touch you. His hands caressed your torso, sliding nearer and nearer to the fullness of your breasts, but dancing away at the last moment.

Then you felt him circle one of your new scars and you stiffened. In the heat of the moment, you'd forgotten all about them and, now, there was no way to hide them, the ugly marks that blemished your skin.

—————

He felt her stiffen when his fingers circled her still healing scars, but not in a painful way. Instead of circling it again, he lowered his mouth to her skin and kissed each scar, the ones from her bullet wounds and the ones from the surgery that had saved her life.

Feeling she needed some vocal encouragement as well, he whispered, "You're beautiful. So beautiful. These scars… these scars…" He brought his gaze up to meet hers. "These scars are just an external example of how much of a fighter you are. They're proof that you're alive. And I love them. And I love you."

"Steve," her voice quivered as she reached up and brushed her hand over his cheek.

Leaning forward, he kissed her lips and used his thumbs to brush away her tears. After guiding her hands to rest on the bed above her head, he slid his hands from her shoulders down to the bottom of her breasts, cupping the fleshy mounds in his large hands.

The soft, pleasure-filled noises that slipped from her mouth encouraged him as he took advantage of the size of his hands and how much of her breasts he could touch at once. Her nipples became hard peaks under the attention of his fingers and became so tempting that he couldn't resist leaning forward and taking one in his mouth.

—————

Desire rushed through your body as you felt his wicked tongue circle one nipple and then the other. Wanting, no, needing more, you arched your back, pressing your breast against his face, making him chuckle against your skin. You felt the vibrations of said chuckle from your breasts all the way to your pulsing sex.

"Steve," you whispered in desperation. "Please."

The sensation of his hot mouth clamping down on one of your nipples sent chills down your spine and you could practically feel your panties get wetter. Your eyes closed and you bit down on your lower lip as he suckled one breast and then the other, all the while, making sure each were being given attention, whether with his mouth or with his hand.

Leaving your breasts, you felt him kiss down your body to the waistband of your panties. There, he teased the flesh above it and then slid his fingers down between your parted legs, making you moan as he pressed the damp fabric against your needy folds.

"Damn, baby," he muttered, his lips pressed so close to you that you could feel his hot breath against your skin.

He teased you, then, taking his time not touching you where you desperately wanted him to.

"Steve, please," you pleaded.

—————

The scent of her arousal was making him drunk and her words made his already hard cock, painfully harder. He quickly found the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her legs until they fell onto the floor.

Without being prompted, his lady parted her legs farther, opening herself up to him completely. He slid his gaze up from the pink of her folds, up her beautiful body and to her bright eyes. He smiled at her and winked before he nestled himself between her legs.

Her little noises filled the room as he first, touched her and, then, tasted her, before he began to use both methods on her. He felt her hands slide through his short hair and nearly latch onto his ears as her body rocked in a wave like motion as he brought her closer and closer to an orgasm. When it hit, her whole body shook and then contracted as he continued to slid his fingers in and out of her core.

With an urge to kiss her, Steve slid up her body, positioning his arms on either side of her, and captured her mouth with his, finding her just as needy to kiss him as he was to kiss her.

Then her hand found his cock and he let out a low moan as she began to slide her hand up and down the shaft.

"Oh god," he moaned into her ear, his hips jerking forward into her touch. He let her do it for a few more seconds before he pulled free. Reaching over, he yanked open the drawer in his bedside table to grab a condom.

Once the condom was in place, he returned to her and carefully aligned his cock with her entrance. Simultaneous moans filled the room as he slid into her, her sex stretching to accept his size. He waited until she nodded ok and then he began to move, pulling back and sliding in a little farther each time.

—————

Steve's forehead was practically resting on yours as the two of you moved together. His chiseled body rubbing deliciously against yours as you clung to him, wanting to feel every inch of him against you.

You both became more vocal as the pleasure built. Murmuring words of encouragement along with unintelligible sounds of pure lust and desire.

With your arms wrapped tightly about him, you felt his whole body stiffen and jerk just before he let out a grunt by your ear. You slid your hands down to clutch his bum, pulling him deeper into you, as he came.

Unlike your previous lovers, who had often faded after cumming, Steve seemed to gain more strength after his orgasm and soon had you on the brink of another climax. With a seemingly magical touch, he sent you cascading over the edge.

The two of you laid there, your chests heaving, for a few minutes as you came down from your highs. Once your legs felt like they could support you again, you slipped from Steve's bed to clean yourself up in the bathroom.

When you came out, Steve was sitting with his back against the headboard waiting for you. You felt yourself blush, suddenly aware you were completely naked, as he watched you make your way back to his bed, the heat of his gaze making you feel loved and wanted.

After you got into the bed and laid down, he stretched out alongside of you. His body spooning yours in a warm, comforting way.

"Goodnight," he whispered into your ear. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Steve," you said before closing your eyes.

—————

Steve woke up, sometime later, his cock hard from the constant contact with her body. He shifted slightly, trying to put some space between their bodies, but stopped when she reached her hand back to stop him.

"I need you, too," she whispered in the dark.

He groaned when her hand slid down to his hardness and wrapped around it. Leaning towards her, he nuzzled her neck, encouraging her to bend her neck back to give him more access. He licked and kissed her neck as she touched him.

Not wanting to cum before he was inside of her, he pulled away to get a condom and then slid it on. Coming back to her, he slid his hand down her body, taking a few moments to toy with her nipples, before reaching the apex of her thighs, where he found her more than ready for him.

"I was having a really good dream," she admitted without an ounce of embarrassment in her voice. "You were fucking me really good."

"Like this?" he asked before lifting her upper leg, allowing her to hook it over his own, so there was room for him to slid into her sex in a single thrust.

She let out a moan of confirmation as she rolled forward slightly so he could hold on to her hip as he moved behind her. With his hands busy, she used her own to touch herself. Their moans filled the room as their passion built to the point where they both came, nearly at the same time.

After cleaning up a bit, they fell back to sleep wrapped in each other's arms.

—————

The faint signs of daylight were sneaking into the bedroom when you woke up, your head resting on Steve's chest. You could tell from the slow breaths he was taking that he was still asleep.

Leaning back slightly, you took in the wide expanse of his bare torso and all the muscular bits that sent zings directly to your clit. Your eyes followed his pecs to his abs and his abs to… the hard cock that was tenting the bed sheets.

"He likes attention," Steve's sleepy voice said. "If you ignore him, he'll go away on his own. He just really likes you."

"I really like him," you told Steve and then went about proving it. You made your way down his chest, nipping, licking, sucking and kissing every hard plane of it on your way to down to the part of his body that most wanted your attention. Pulling back the covers, you licked your lips and began to play with him.

The sounds that came from Steve's mouth as you used your hands on him and then your mouth, sent jolts of pleasure to your heated core. It was all you could do to remain on your hands and knees between his legs, circling the tip of his cock with your tongue when all you wanted to do was ride him and ride him hard.

It was Steve, ultimately, who made the decisive move. Taking advantage of you giving your jaw a break, he pulled you forward and ordered you to get a condom. You obeyed and quickly grabbed one.

After you slid it on to his cock, he sat up and pulled you into his arms in a sitting position, face to face. He held onto you as you lowered yourself down onto his cock. Your hands found the back of his neck as you began to move, rocking back and forth as you rode him.

With one hand securely on your back, his other hand wandered, taking advantage of the position the two of you were in. They started at your breasts and you arched your back towards him as he played with your nipples. Then his talented fingers slipped between your legs where the two of you were joined and he teased your clit, bringing you closer and closer to your release.

His extra attention on you, meant you came just moments before he did. You shuddered in his embrace and slumped against him as the night's events caught up with you.

—————

He watched her sleep for a long time. He was aware that it was weird, but he didn't care at all. She was the woman he loved and he'd almost lost her before he could tell her how much he cared about her.

Now, though, she knew how much he loved her and he knew that she loved him, too. She was his future, that much he knew. Whether they were here at the compound or if they found a house nearby, like Tony and Pepper had, he didn't know, but as long as he was with her, he would be happy.

She sighed in her sleep and he smiled. What had started as conversations in one of the common areas had blossomed into a lifetime of happiness with her by his side.

Want to find me off tumblr? I’m @beccatheycallme on twitter. I also post my stories on AO3.

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[kkruml]

STAY chapter 8

Thank you everyone for your patience with this chapter!

I had some serious writer’s block about 2/3 through this chapter but @smoakingwaffles upped her BETA game and is to thank for helping me put a string of thoughts into what has become my favorite exchange in this chapter. YOU DA BEST MY DEAR.

Mood music.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

AO3

Previously

His eyes were pained, his shoulders dropped as his voice cracked, “Annalise.”

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but the name of another woman was not it. But she wanted the truth- he was giving it.

Trying to keep her tone even, she asked, “Who is Annalise?”

“Was…” his voice was hollow, his eyes focused on a distant shore two-hundred years away. “She was my fiancé.”

Was.

Her stomach knotted as she took in the word, turning it inside out in her head, looking for any alternative meaning. But the look on his face confirmed her fears.

“Jamie…” Her eyes pleaded. “What happened?”

“There was an accident…” he stopped, his hand clenching hers tightly, the skin under his fingers now white but she didn’t move- couldn’t move. Her eyes locked onto his as his wall came crashing down.

No more secrets.

With a look of fear and anguish he finally looked at her, “She’d dead because of me.”

Claire

The clock on the wall slowly ticked in rhythm to the heart monitor of her patient.

Two hours.

Just two short hours ago her arms were wrapped around him, their legs had intertwined in a soul-saving embrace.  

But that had been two hours ago.

The sterile smell of the hospital swirled around her as she took a shaky breath. She closed her eyes and saw his face- broken, scared, beautiful.

She’s dead because of me.

The words had barely made it past his lips, but she saw his face crumple as he closed his eyes. He slowly unlocked his hand from hers. His fingers combed through his hair before sinking into the curls at the back of his head.

She was afraid to touch him but even more afraid to let him drift farther away from her. With a tentative movement, she softly rested her hand on his thigh.

“Jamie,” Claire spoke softly, searching for the calm doctor’s voice she employed when speaking to trauma victims, “What happened to Annalise?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled as he brought his hands in front of his face- staring at his palms.

She waited as he breathed in and out- three times- before gently pressing her fingertips into his muscle.

“We had grown up together, all through school- high school sweethearts, ye ken.” His voice was shallow, distant. “She was all I knew, and I loved her- so I asked. She said yes. I just always assumed...”

She carefully shifted closer to him, watching his eyes dart from palm to palm before closing his eyes tightly together.

“It was a dark night- no moon, just heavy rain. We were celebrating our graduation from University.” He opened his eyes again but did not meet her gaze. One large palm slid down the length of her arm, his fingers pressing into her skin as he closed his fingers closed around hers once more. His voice was quiet, wistful as he spoke, “We were coming home from the pub- I looked over at her just for a moment- she was smiling.”

Her heart constricted at the image- the final fleeting moment before impact.

The last breath before his life shattered.

His eyes were focused on the sheet, but she knew his mind was reliving that night, helpless. “The car came out of nowhere. It hit the passenger side.”

She wanted to protect him, hold him close and shield him from the pain. Feeling useless, she took a deep breath and softly hummed in response.

“All I heard was the sound of broken glass and crushing metal, but above all that was the way she screamed…” His accent was thick as he shook his head, “… there was sae much blood.”

She saw the words as she were reading if from one of her medical textbooks: The majority of automobile accident fatalities are the result of acute internal hemorrhaging.

“I held her in my arms, as I saw the life leave her face, I begged her- ‘Stay. Please just…stay with me’…” A strangled sob escaped his lips as his shoulders drooped. “And then she was…  gone.”

Gone. The word was empty- a ghost of a life he’d thought he’d live.

“These hands-” he stopped, his fingers shaking, “I couldna save her. I called for help but…”

He thought it was his fault.

A massive hemorrhage without immediate medical intervention would have been fatal, and even then… very difficult to save. He was carrying the weight of her death on his shoulders and she watched him slowly crumble underneath it.

He couldn’t live with this unwarranted guilt, it wasn’t fair. “Jamie it wasn’t your fault- it was an accident. It could have been anybody-”

“But it was me. I was supposed to protect her. I failed her.” His free hand clenched into a fist and he drove it into the sheet- years of bottled pain bursting free. “I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with her…”

Slowly moving her hand to his chin, she lifted his face, his eyes slowly meeting hers through a wall of built up tears. “But Annalise- she spent the rest of her life with you.”

Her words broke the dam as a thick line of tears poured over his carved cheekbones and down his face. She pulled his face to the curve of her neck and his arms wrapped tightly around her. She slowly ran one hand through his curls, the other held him steady by his shoulders. She felt the warmth of his tears as they rolled down her neck; without words to soothe him, she guided the heaviness of his body to hers and took a deep breath. It may have been hours or minutes that they held each other tightly. The weight of a death and two years of sorrow slowly lifted from his shoulders with each gentle stroke of his hair.

A soft graze of her skin stirred her awake, and as her eyes slowly opened, she was met with a sea of clear blue. His hair was tussled from sleep and she gently swept a wild curl from his forehead, a small smile pulling at his lip.

“Mmmm,” She breathed quietly. “What is it?”

“Ye ken….” Jamie paused to take a deep breath, kissing the base of her neck softly. “Ye ken I havena spoken her name since the funeral.”

Claire kissed his forehead softly, letting her lips linger as she took in the faint scent of her lavender in his hair. Attempting a light tone, she asked, “Is it cathartic?”

His fingers twitched, and he shifted his weight to sit against the pillows. His arms guided her body to follow, and her head rested on the expanse of his chest- her hand just above his heart.

“Claire… I…” Jamie’s voice trailed off. She tilted her head to see his eyes focused on her hand.

“We don’t have to rush it….” She whispered into him, placing a kiss on his breast.

“Since it happened, I have been a hollow shell of a man- trying to hide in the little bit that has been left of me…” Jamie let out a breath as he brought his hand to hers, gently lacing their fingers together. Turning to look down at her, his voice cracked, “That empty shell…The most I thought I was worthy of was… just shallow company.”

Pulling their hands to her lips, she kissed his knuckles softly. “Go on.”

“Then I met you.” Jamie said, his voice was strong with a fierceness that sent chills down her spine.

She opened her mouth to speak but no words formed. Her eyes filled with tears as she answered his words with a small exhale.

“Sassenach, for a verra long time I have been afraid to feel again….” He unclasped his hand from hers, caressing her chin as he tilted her face to meet his. “I’m scared, Claire. Scared to love again but also scared I will never see your face again or feel your touch.”

“You won’t lose me, Jamie.” She answered the question written on his face he didn’t dare speak.

A small smile pulled across his lips as he nodded, blinking hard to keep his eyes clear. Leaning down to kiss her lips, he let out a soft Scottish purr. He said simply, “Ye’ve made me whole again, mo nighean donn.”

Mo nighean donn.

The sound of his voice wrapped around her heart- constricting and expanding it all in one moment. She didn’t need to know what they meant to feel the depth of feeling behind them. Without words to encompass what she felt in return, she closed her eyes and pulled him closer- placing another kiss on his chest. “Lay your head love, it’s a long time till dawn.”

With each rise and fall of his chest she felt their skin meld into one. The touch of his fingertips on her skin as they lightly strummed across her skin lulled her into serenity.

Jamie

The light was just creeping across the floor when he woke to an empty bed. His hand searched the sheets next to him but found no soft curves or ivory skin. He thought he had imagined the whole night, but the scent of lavender lingered on his pillow. Blinking twice to clear his vision, he wiped his eyes- feeling a thin film of salt residue on his skin.

He told her. And she stayed. She stayed until the call came in.

Trauma- must go.  

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Please.

“I’m sorry, Jamie.”

Don’t.

“I don’t want to leave you, but I must.”

Go.

He replayed the words over in his mind; her voice was soft, warm. He believed her. But with the wounds agape across his soul, he was left with nothing but the throbbing memories of old blurring with the whisper of her healing touch to sooth him.

He stared at the ceiling, slowing feeling his eyelids close as the deep exhaustion of his grief seeped from his bones. Two breaths later, sleep pulled him back under.

The sound of the key in the lock startled him awake.

She was back. Had he given her a key?

He stepped into his pajama bottoms and strode to the door to greet her, running his hand through his hair to tame it.

A gruff voice met him instead, “Ye look mighty peely-wally, lad.”  

“Och haud yer wheesht.” Jamie’s heart sank as he answered his uncle, “What are ye doin’ here Murtagh?”

“Ye didna answer yer phone last night or this mornin’- thought I best check on ye before ye miss another gig.” Murtagh’s brow quirked as he eyed his nephew, taking in his disheveled hair and the faint red of his eyes.

Turning from his inquiring stare, Jamie waved a hand at him. “I took the night off, I needed time to think.”

He shuffled distractedly around the kitchen looking for a coffee mug. His eye caught the clock on the wall-was it already two o’clock? Rummaging through the cupboards and letting the doors swing close with a thud, he meandered without much success.

“Ye always told me music was a way to keep yerself from thinkin’,” Murtagh’s voice was level but Jamie could hear the question behind it.

The faint melody echoed in his ears and he shook his head to clear it, “Lately it hasna worked- it’s made it worse.”

Murtagh leaned against the counter, crossing his arms in front of him as he shifted his weight to one leg. “Ye never did thank me for sendin’ that lass yer way the other night.”

Jamie scoffed at the memory- Laoghaire at the door with Claire in his favorite rugby shirt. “I’ll thank ye never to do that again, aye?”

Undeterred, he continued- his voice stronger, “It’s Sunday- shouldn’t ye be gettin’ yerself ready for the pub… and that table of lasses, aye?”

The image made his stomach turn as he thought of anyone other than her.

“No-” He said without hesitation, his voice firm and strong on the two-letter word.

Murtagh cocked his head as he watched his nephew.

Squaring his shoulders to face his uncle, he finished with a strong Highlander lilt, “There is no one, save for her.”

Murtagh’s face shifted to a serious look covered with a small smile and quirk of an eyebrow. “Just one?”

“Aye. A…” he paused, a smile playing on his lips, “A Sassenach.”

A soft knock at the door started his heart and he launched himself towards the entryway. He opened the door with a flourish and saw whisky eyes staring back at him- dark circles lined just below them.

“Christ! Are ye alright Sassenach?”

“Yes, it was a long surgery but we…” she sighed, the weight of her body sinking slightly as she stepped through the doorway. “We saved him.”

He could see the exhaustion in her petite frame as she shrugged her shoulders. Her eyes were bloodshot and though she gave her best attempt at a smile, he saw the toll his confession had taken on her. The emotional and physical exhaustion was plain on her glass face; she could have been knocked over with a soft breath, so he didn’t press her further. Instead, he opened his arms and she melted into him, her arms wrapping around his waist. He rested his cheek against her curls and relaxed for the first time since she left his bed.

The faint clink of a coffee mug sent a shiver through her body and she tensed. Tilting her head to see his face, he saw panic in her eyes as her voice shook, “Is… someone here?”

‘No… well yes… but it’s no what ye think.” He heard the familiar steps behind him and watched Claire’s face relax as she took in the bushy beard behind him. Jamie kept his arms around her as he turned to see his uncle, a grin wide across his face.

Murtagh raised an eyebrow as he eyed her, “Ye must be the lass, I reckon.”

Claire’s eyes darted to Jamie’s and he smiled as he watched a rosy blush warm her cheeks.

“I supposed I must be,” she cleared her throat, standing up straighter as her hands gripped Jamie firmly, “I’m Claire.”

#STAY fic #outlander #fan fic #outlander fan fic #chapter 8 #hai murtagh

[writer-and-sinner]

Solace II.

Michael Langdon x Original Female Character

Part II/?

Warnings: May contain foul language, graphic descriptions of violence and mild sexual content.

After the slightly rough interview, I could not shut my eyes closed and fall asleep. On my mind, I kept replaying our conversation over and over again: his voice, my voice, his burning touch on my skin. The pain I felt when he touched me, which momentarily turned into surprising pleasure.

I didn’t want to feel it.

For the most part of the night, I have been tossing and turning, wrapping the heavy blankets around myself tighter and tighter, as if I am longing for some sort of protection. Maybe, I want to protect myself from him - keep him at an arm’s length, make sure not to show emotion too much, do as told.

I know, though, that this is impossible.

Langdon has this kind of presence that manages to get under your skin. His eyes pierce right through you, like an x-ray. He knows everything about you, he doesn’t have to ask any questions and yet he still does. For some reason, he wants me to say what he wants me to say.

And I say it.

He knows that I do not like showing emotion. From my family, I have picked up emotion as a sign of weakness. Emotions destroy you from the inside, an attachment may eventually lead to your death. For most of my life, I have always strived to hide what I felt. Put on a facade, conceal the truth.

Throwing the blanket away from me, I get up from the bed, wrapping myself into a silk robe that almost touches my toes. Just like all of my other articles of clothing, it is purple. I have started to hate this colour - everything is purple and when I close my eyes, even the darkness becomes purple. It engulfs me in my deepest nightmares, as I drown in an ocean of purple.

I pull the heavy door open, exiting into the dimly-lit corridor. There is absolute silence, not even a single rustle coming from the other rooms: everyone is fast asleep. As I quietly walk to the sitting room, my bare feet silently stepping onto the stone floor, my heart begins beating faster and faster - shivers running down my spine. It is colder than I expected it to be, but I do not mind it that. The feeling brings me back to life, reminds me that my senses have not been dulled down.

When I enter the seemingly empty sitting room, my eyes dart right to the dark silhouette in the corner, sitting comfortably in an armchair. As soon as I see him, I feel every muscle in my body tighten - the interrogation is probably going to continue. Although outside, I attempt to keep up the facade of disinterest, every dark corner of my mind wants me to continue. To look at him, observe him, make him intimidated, perhaps.

On the contrary. I look away. As soon as I meet his malevolent eyes, I cannot manage to look into them any longer. The inches of me that he looks over are burned with his observant glare. My mind races wildly with the thoughts. Crazy thoughts, bad thoughts.

“Why are you here?” I ask harshly. I am not ready to hold a polite conversation with him, especially at this late hour. Cautiously, I move towards the nearest seat and fall down onto it, grabbing the nearest book on the coffee table as an excuse to do so.

“I could ask you the same question.” His voice is the same, nothing has changed. He is dressed in his typical attire and yet, I can notice a slight hint of disorder in his appearance. Something is wrong with him and I can only speculate what and why.

I do not reply to his question, but the silence makes me uncomfortable. For some unknown reason, I want to get up and walk away back into the safety of my room, but I remain here. Do not show emotion. My fingers grip onto the leather cover of the book I’m holding - the only thing that grounds me to reality.

Meanwhile, I try to make out the words on the page, unable to do so because of the lack of adequate lighting, I can feel him studying me. The fact that I am wearing a robe, such an intimate garment, makes matters even more awkward. I try not to think about it. I try to pretend he is not there.

“I am still waiting for your reply, Blanche,” he says, his voice mellifluous in the silence. “What are you doing here now?”

I look up from the book and my gaze meets with his own in just a matter of a second. “I do not want to be interrogated by you.”

“If that is how you feel-”

“Yes,” I cut him off, my voice sounding strong and irritated, “that’s how I feel, Langdon. And if you will excuse me, I want you to leave me alone at least this night and let me read this book in fucking peace.”

“Ah.” He smiles and his hand rises to prop his head up, in a manner that makes him look like a therapist during a session. Following his movements, I notice a fresh, bloody cut peeking from under one of his sleeves. I look away, but the image remains on my mind.  “I find it ironic how your name is Blanche. White - in French, it symbolises purity and innocence. And yet, I see that you are the complete opposite.”

“Good to hear, I guess.” I am too tired of his bullshit.

“What stained this, Blanche? How come did you manage to become so filthy?”

“Do you think I fucking know, Langdon?” I almost get up from the seat, but stop myself just in time. Control and containment. “Do you think it’s easy to be this smart superhuman being, that knows everything about everyone? Do you think it’s easy to realise how you became like this, reflect on your own past, remember the traumatic experiences?”  

Shutting the book loudly, I almost throw it on the coffee table. My hands are trembling from anger and I can almost feel my blood boil inside me, fueled by this gaze Langdon is piercing me with. I cannot do this anymore. It happened again. In just a matter of a few phrases, he manages to get under my skin. Take the top layer off and give it to me, to reflect on it.

“Fascinating,” he says, observing me from his place.

“Look, I don’t care about reaching the Sanctuary,” I lie, my voice loud and strong, as I am gradually making my way towards him, “This place depresses me and I have lost my will to live a long time ago. I don’t care what you think about me or what you find fascinating. If you find me unfit, stop digging deeper and let me die my painful death here. I don’t care.”

I stop right in front of his armchair. He rises up, towering a few inches above me. His movements are lithe and well-balanced - he is perfect control of his own body. A self-indulgent smirk appears on his face, signalling to me that he has won this conversation. I lost my self-control, I succumbed to fury - I lost.

“You think I am looking for an innocent person? Unblemished. Pure lily-white. Perfect citizen, fit for the procreation of the human race?”

I nod silently, unable to say a word. These mind games are exasperating me.  

“You are a bad person, Blanche. You can be manipulative, you are ignorant and selfish. On this planet, you only care about yourself and nothing else. I have noticed this right in the first seconds of your cooperation.”

I remain silent.

“And yet you try to hide it deep inside you. Bury it like a dark secret, like a skeleton that no one has to see. Conceal all of the emotions under a layer of indifference. People think you are a bully, but you do not care. You never will. You’ve been trying so hard to do this during your stay here, but deep inside, you know what you are really like. And I know what you actually feel.”

He has done it again. He brought out my weakness into the dim spotlight of the sitting room, examined it and humiliated me using it. Stabbed me with my own secrets, like a dagger into the heart. I can almost feel the imaginary wound bleeding all over my clothing, the blood taking my last bits of energy from me.

“I told you,” he concludes, “you cannot hide anything from me. It will only be more painful for you in the end. Your half-truths will not save you from Outpost 3.”

“I do not need saving,” I hiss through my teeth. I lie again. I do not care if he finds out about it, even this time “There is no point to be saved anyway.”

“Why are you so sure?” He begins walking around me, in his careful manner. I do not follow his gaze, I can feel it with every fibre of my skin anyway.

“What even is the Sanctuary? A similar shithole with no light, food or any activity? What is the point of life, when even death sounds more appealing?”

He stops. I can feel his hand rise up and lightly touch my left shoulder. Even through two layers of fabric, I can sense his hand radiating burning heat. The touch of his skin wreaks havoc inside me. Every organ in my body tenses, every muscle tightens. For a moment, my universe stops.

It’s only him and I in this room. In Outpost 3. On the whole planet. Him and his burning touch on my shoulder. His voice and my silence. His knowledge that seems eternal, neverending and my petty lies. There is nothing else in this world.

“You do not know what death feels like to want it so bad,” he whispers into my left ear, his words slightly louder than silence. I feel like Eve, tempted by the serpent. Only tempted to do what?

The image of the vertical cut on his arm arises in my mind. It looked completely new as if done just a few hours ago. I wonder if that is what he means by wanting death. By not wanting to survive. And still, I think about the reasoning. Why would he, in his position of power, want death?

“I know what you are thinking.” He removes his hand from my shoulder and it feels as if a breeze has been let into the room. Quietly, almost silently, he steps back into the place opposite me. An intimidating smile present on his lips. “You are wondering about this.”

Suddenly, he lifts his sleeve up, baring the bright red line cutting across the length of his pale arm. I flinch, but I do not look away. Shivers run down my spine, but I keep looking. The image engraved in my mind.

Now that you have seen a dark part of me,” he says, his voice mellifluous in the eerie silence. He slowly rolls down his sleeve and I look up, meeting his piercing eyes. “It’s time to show yours.”

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon fic #ahs 8 #ahs apocalypse #american horror story

[t-lostinworlds]

Why Me? (Dolan Twins)

(An excerpt from a book that I probably would never write)

A/N: Thought I’d try something new and kind of different. I originally wrote this in a first person’s POV so if there are typos, I’m sorry. Anyways! I hope you like this one.

Summary: They say when a ghost of a loved one or someone close to you visits you in your dreams, that means that they are there to deliver you a message, but what if that message isn’t given as clear as you wanted it to be?

Warning: Angst, slightly dark, ghosts, mentions of suicide, swearing, and it’s sad.

Word Count: 2,675

Masterlist in Bio

-:-:-:-:-

(Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N)

People always say that you get hurt only by the people who has a huge part in your heart, the more agonizing the pain, the more important the person is. You completely agree but what if that said person who hurt you didn’t do it intentionally? What if it wasn’t entirely their fault that you are hurting, does that still count?

The feeling of emptiness has never left you since that day. Darkness keeps creeping on you every time you close your eyes, and the sad thing is, you welcome it with open arms like it’s an old friend of yours.

It's hard for you to let him go; it has been so hard for you to move on as your memories together still haunt you from day until night, the memories where everything felt so perfect, so alive. It’s never been easy to forget those certain memories that always left you with the feeling of euphoria and utter bliss whenever it replays inside your brain. But keeping these memories comes close to holding a rose full of thorns. You can’t deny its beauty but you can’t also ignore the pain that comes with holding on to it. The more you grip it tight to avoid yourself from losing it, the more your hands bleed, deepening the wounds even more.

You’ve been trying to delete it from your conscious for months, but it’s nearly impossible to do so. It’s like forcing yourself to try and forget your own name, to forget the person that you have become. These memories have been a part of you that it has become too difficult to erase. It’s latched inside your mind like a permanent tattoo, too hard, too painful to remove.

The constant torment you go through whenever you reminisce those times is almost unbearable and trust when I say that you are trying, so hard to fight the demons, to get yourself far away from falling deep into the dark abyss. But it's tough for you to stay strong, to keep fighting when the only reason you were fighting in the first place has left you. It’s hard for you to remain tough and standing when your only source of strength is no longer there. You can’t see the light in this dark world anymore because he’s gone. He is gone.

Grayson Bailey Dolan.

Who would have thought that a simple name could hold so much weight in a person’s life? A name that belongs to the person who will forever have a place in your heart, the name of the love of your life, your soul mate, your best friend, your everything.

You already have gone through numerous of sleepless nights, constantly thinking about what could have been if Grayson was still alive. You haven't been eating normally, not being able to find your appetite thinking about his favorite food, and how he would always smile and tell you how lucky he was when you ate together, side by side. People are telling you that you’ve changed, that you’ve become someone else, someone different. And yes you are fully aware that you have not been yourself. Every single time you stare at yourself in the mirror, it's like you’re watching somebody else, watching a totally different person living inside your body. And the scary truth is that you know that you can never ever be yourself ever again. I mean how can you be when your other half no longer exists?

Grayson may have left you and the world but he still took the key to your heart and your life with him. It’s difficult to keep living knowing that if you have to continue and move on with your life; you also have to leave him behind too.

You only wish he would visit you, that his ghost would still make you feel that he’s still there, that he’ll always be right by your side, even if it he’ll just visit you in your dreams. Imagine closing your eyes and seeing his warm smile warming up the world once more, those beautiful hazel eyes shining bright, if not even brighter than the stars at night. Those oh so wonderful eyes that never failed to make your heart flutter and to make you feel loved, secure, and happy.

But the universe is never fair, it always likes to play games because Grayson isn’t the one visiting you in your dreams, oh no, that would have been too good to be true. Instead, the monster Jacob is the one who is constantly haunting you in your dreams. Jacob, the person who Grayson considered his friend, the one who is reckless, not even caring that he is dragging Grayson into his mess. He is the reason why Grayson is dead in the first place; he is the real reason why your life is slowly turning into hell and he knew that. Jacob knew that it was his entire fault; he knew that everybody lost someone important because of him, so he decided to kill himself out of guilt.

Every night all you see is his face covered with blood, his eyes turning into the color of blood staring at you, straight into your soul, his wicked smile taunting you, making you feel an enormous amount of fear.

He isn't the Jacob you once knew. He has become inhuman, looking barbarous and heartless as though he has become a monster. The torturous part is that he doesn't want to leave you alone. He’s always there the minute you shut your eyes, his ghost standing next to your bed, just staring at you with blood streaming down his horrible eyes, everything around him turning dark and cold. And it has been like that the night he died. The same reoccurring dream of you being chased, running away from the monster you once thought was your friend.

Different things started to flood your mind as you ask yourself all the questions you can come up with.

What does he want from me that he can’t seem to leave me alone? Do I need to do something to make his soul be finally at peace? Why can’t Grayson visit me at least once? Why does it have to be Jacob’s ghost that I have to deal with every single night? Why is this happening to me?

Why Me?

(Ethan Grant Dolan)

Do you ever wonder why the universe decides to punish you severely when you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong? Because I have, every single second of everyday, from the moment I wake up to the moment I close my eyes and force myself to sleep.

Everything still seems unreal to me, even the pain I feel seems to be unreal. It never crossed my mind that this moment would actually come far too early for my liking. I feel helpless, lost, vulnerable, weak, incomplete but also numb. Is that even possible? I don’t really know. But what I do know is that I’m never getting him back, never.

I feel so angry and hurt. He didn’t do anything wrong, he’s never hurt anyone at all and he’s been good all his life but is that really the reason why God took him so early? They always say that bad people tend to live longer than good people and that is completely unfair. But then again, has life ever been fair?

Letting him be a memory is too hard for me to process. It’s not that I can’t, it’s because I don’t really want to. I can never accept the fact that he is no longer here physically; it just hurts so much to think about.

We’ve always been side by side since day one, not a single moment have we been apart at all. Whenever I'm down he is always there to at least try and cheer me up. He would always do something stupid just to see me smile even if the slightest bit. When I get mad he’s always there to either calm me down or frustrate me even more. There were also times where we just sit by the pool to relax, talking deep stuff about life and what the future holds. We would always tell each other that we have to do everything together if possible. We even planned to be next door neighbors when the time arrives that we are going have our own families.

I remember it clearly, the day I looked at him in the eyes and told him, I can’t imagine a world without you bro. Promise me we’ll be there for each other till the end. He used to playfully laugh at me for being so soft and emotional, but he still promised, he still swore that we would be by each other’s side until the end.

I never would have thought my words would become so ironic because now, I don’t have to imagine a world without him; I have to live in a world without him. And he broke his fucking promise because he left me. He left.

Grayson Bailey Dolan

The name of the person who broke his promise, the person who swore that he would never leave my side no matter what. That is the name of my best friend, my brother, my other half.

I used to get so annoyed at him for waking me up rudely every morning but now, I would do anything just to see him jump on my bed again and shake me awake. To see him cook me his stupid banana pancakes for breakfast even if it doesn’t taste that good. I would give up everything just to have him scream at me for playing too much Fortnite when the day is beautiful and the sun is out. To have him smack me in the back of my head whenever I say something stupid, which always end up in a random wrestling match. To have him cook me meals over and over again even if he already knew that I probably wouldn’t eat it. He never gave up on that though, he still tried to impress me with his cooking no matter how many times I told him it wasn’t good.

I’d kill just to have another one of those late night swimming sessions in our backyard, constantly doing flips on the trampoline. To have him sneak in my room at night because he just had a nightmare, even if his already a grown man. I want to see us perform our secret handshake whenever we think of a brilliant idea together. I just want to hug him tight whenever I feel happy. To see that stupid grin on his face whenever he feels like he’s accomplished something or when he’s one an argument over me. I want to experience everything again, even for one last time. I just want to spend another day with him no matter the cost.

I just want my twin brother back.

Sleeping at night has never been easy for me anymore because I know that when I wake up the next morning, Grayson wouldn’t be there to greet me. I can’t even eat without tearing up because he isn’t there to complain about my loud chewing anymore and that hurts so much. It just sucks to think that I won’t see him again. It fucking sucks to think that I now live in a world where Grayson doesn’t exist.

Losing a twin brother hurts differently. No one and I mean no one can ever replace him. He will always have a special place in my heart no matter what. We’ve grown a strong and special bond since we only had each other throughout these years. We were each other’s best friend and at times when things get rough, we were each other’s only friend. Losing him is like cutting me in half and just leaving me to bleed and die from the excruciating pain. Everything I do just reminds me of Grayson because we did everything together, hell we’ve been together since the womb. Every single step I make is just a constant reminder of the times Grayson was still alive. And now that he’s no longer with me, I don’t know what to do with my life anymore. I’m just not the same without him; my life will never be the same as it used to be.

With Grayson out of the picture, everything has turned dark and cold. I found myself sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness with horrendous thoughts clouding my mind. I try my best to think about something positive, to see the light in this gloomy world but I am in so much pain that it’s hard for me to be happy anymore.

People keep saying that I should let him go, that I have to move on and continue with my life, but that just seems undoable, especially now when the wound is still fresh. I am fully aware that I have to let him go at some point but that time is still far ahead in the future but you can’t also say that I am not trying. I know Grayson wouldn’t want to see me like this that’s why I am trying my absolute best to live my life again. But that fucking bastard just keeps making things hard for me. That’s Grayson for you, never making things easy for his twin brother.

When I thought that I can finally do it, that I can finally move on, he suddenly decides to pay me a visit in my dreams. Yes, Grayson haunts me in my sleep. I should be happy right? I should be thankful that he’s still with me, maybe not physically but at least he’s still there right? Wrong.

I would have been happy if it was the Grayson I knew and loved. He still looks like Grayson but he is not the same. His usual hazel bright eyes are replaced with grey cold ones; face pale showing no emotion, not even the slightest bit. His presence used to radiate happiness and positivity but not this one. He isn't the Grayson who was once joyful, funny, carefree and lovable anymore, this Grayson is cold, depressed, lifeless and dead.

It’s always the same the moment I close my eyes. He would stand there and stare at me with those blank, gloomy eyes, making the room colder than it usually is, the cool air making the hairs on my body stand, the eerie atmosphere sending shivers down my spine. I’ve never been afraid of ghost, and I would never be afraid of my own brother, but he just gives off that unnerving feeling that makes me feel uncomfortable and fearsome.

Whether he writes it on a piece of paper, type it on my computer, or even write it on the fogged up window, he would then leave the same message over and over again.

Help (Y/N)

He would never say anything else. I’ve tried to talk to him but he wouldn’t respond at all. He just stares at me, as, lifeless as he could possibly be, and that breaks my heart even more. I just want to talk to him, probably sounds crazy talking to a ghost but I miss him so much, I just want to strike a conversation with him for old times’ sake.

I’ve also tried asking him about his message; on how I will help her or why do I need help her, but it to no avail, he just leaves me there confused as fuck. And that keeps happening every night, my brother – or what’s left of my brother – visiting me in my dreams and leaves the same message every single time.

Why is Grayson haunting me? Why can’t he just explain his message and bring back the old cheerful Grayson? Will his spirit be finally at peace when I get to successfully help (Y/N)? How on earth will I help her and why does she even need my help? Why is this happening to me?

Why me?

#the dolan twins #dolan twins #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins fanfic #ethan dolan #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan fanfic #ethan dolan one shot #ethan dolan x reader #grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan one shot #grayson dolan x reader #ethan and grayson #dolan twins one shot #dolan tuesday #dolan twins tuesday #dolan twins fandom #dolan fandom #dolan twins angst #ghost #fanfiction #my writing

[gentlemanmendes]

Paper Hearts

Honey I rose up from the dead I do it all the time.

this is based off the Vamps song Paper Hearts, I’ve never really payed attention but their music is actually so good!

Shawn’s and Australia and I’m so bumbed out cause I don’t get to go see him for the second time he is in my country.

Link to song if you wanna cry

Part 1:

'There's a lot of things that I may not know, but missing you baby is the only thing I know, I know.'

 Shawn ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to keep his eyes open. Every day seemed to be a replay of yesterday, the same routine. Without her it felt as though nothing in this world had a point? What if everything was now pointless without her? It felt that way, even the job that he put before her didn't help the black hole sucking up his insides, only growing. He wondered how long it would take until he was fully consumed by the black hole causing havoc inside him, he hoped soon because living every day as though he was fine without her was impossible.

As usual he had spent the night with her racing through his mind. Even when he was tired to the point he was sure he would pass out, he didn't allow himself to sleep until his eyelids eventually gave way. The only time Shawn was ever truly left alone was in his hotel room at night and he chose to spend that time thinking of her, even though she always crossed his mind, that was the time he dedicated to her. Ironic considering they had parted due to the fact that she felt as though Shawn never gave her time.

He would wonder what she was doing, whether she was with someone, if she was happy or sad. He often imagined her lying in her bed, staring up at the blank roof he had looked up at while listening to her soft hums as she slept, tears falling down her cheeks as she found it hard to breath from the sobs escaping her parted lips. He hoped she would call, text, give a sign of regret for breaking up with him.

He knew that she was right and that she deserved someone who would be under that blank roof every single night, falling asleep while being held in the arms of an other so she knows she is loved and secure. He hadn't given her that. He couldn't with his busy schedule.  

"Shawn, did you hear me?" The interviewer questioned cautiously causing Shawn to look up at her. She had easily sensed Shawn's bad mood, it wasn't hard to tell that he wasn't happy and would easily snap. His leg was shaking up and down furiously as though he was containing himself from bursting out at her this very second.

"Pardon?" Shawn shook himself out of his daze, or tried as best he could, so he could answer the questions and get this interview over with.

"I asked when you will be releasing new music?" Shawn was irradiated by this question. Music had always been a form of art for him, how was he supposed to appreciate it when he was miserable without y/n.

He had written many songs about her though they were much too personal to share with the world, he wouldn't even share them with y/n if she had ever given him the chance. He would never want her to know how vulnerable she had made him, that would only cause guilt and he didn't want her to feel guilty for something they both had equal parts in.

"I don't know!" Shawn snapped causing the interviewer to flinch even though she had been sitting on edge trying to prepare herself for when it happened. She dealt with moody, egotistical, celebrities often, this was nothing new to her. "I don't know anything," He stood up abruptly causing the interviewer to back away warily, "besides the fact that I miss her." He took a deep sigh trying to regain himself. He didn't like acting this way towards others, especially for work.  "I miss y/n."

 -

 'And who am I to say what the future holds, but missing you baby is the only thing I know, I know.'

Y/n hummed, sitting up straight subconsciously as she tried to show her friend that she was paying attention to what was being said. She had been talking about her job which y/n usually found interesting, she loved hearing about what was going on in the lives of the  people closest to her, but Shawn had crossed her mind. She had seen a girl walk into the cafe with an illuminate tour shirt. It was almost like she couldn't escape him, he appeared everywhere, the perks of having a famous ex. People notice you in the streets, paps still take your picture, and your ex is brought up everywhere reopening the wounds just after you thought they were healing. She had just been happy she hadn't seen or heard from Shawn since the break up, that would be like salt in  an opened wound.

Y/f/n turned around to see what had caused her to go distant on her and zone out. Her eyes widened in realization as she turned back to y/n, facial features softening causing y/n's insides to turn upside down making her feel sick. She didn't want sympathy. She broke up with Shawn so she didn't get to feel guilt. It was her fault and she was prepared to take all the blame for the break up, the relationship however was a different story.

Relationships are two sided things, both had their faults and both had played a part in destroying what they had. Like a board game, they both took their time in taking a turn trying to cause more destruction than the others previous turn had in hopes to get a reaction until one would officially loose it and toss the board over in fury.

Y/n had been the one to flip the board, ending the game for both of them.

Shawn hadn't chased her, pleaded with her to come back and they could easily put all the pieces in the exact spots and finish the game. He let her end the game easily which hurt her more than the break up had. He didn't ask why she was breaking up with him, hadn't tried to make it work, he just gave up on her. Was he happy about the break up? She often wondered if he had done everything that irritated her on purpose in hopes it would reach a point of no returns, which it did.

"If you want, we can go?" y/f/n suggested though she hadn't hidden the fact that she didn't really mean what she was saying .

Their food was placed in front of them answering the question before y/n could. Though she didn't feel like eating anymore , y/n picked up her knife and fork and began cutting her food. She refused to look up and meet y/f/n's gaze. She didn't need sympathy, she was happy, wasn't she?

"Excuse me, y/n?" A small voice broke the tense silence that had settled between the two.  

Y/n looked up to be met with a young fresh face, the face of the girl who was wearing the piece of merchandise that had brought on the painful emotions like a tsunami. Her face was bright and happy, she couldn't be older than twelve, no sign of the pain that love could cause on her face. She was still innocent to the idea of love, only imagining it to be warm and pure not knowing the cold and aching it could cause. Who knows maybe she even imagined it with the man who had caused the misery she felt right now.  

What caused the misery wasn't Shawn, Shawn had been nothing but loving towards her and was the reason for some of the best things she had ever experienced. The misery came from knowing that it would never be that way again.

"Can I have a photo?" The girl asked hopefully, gripping onto the phone in her hand scared that she would drop it from shaking so much.  

Y/n forced a smile that didn't meet her eyes and hurt her cheeks but it was better than knowing she would crush the innocent girls confidence. The girl handed the phone to y/f/n as she leaned towards y/n.

"Thank you!" She girl grinned widely as she examined the photo. "Can you tell Shawn that a random fan said she loves him." She pleaded causing y/n to  give a slight nod and mumble an okay. It had hurt her more hearing that. It was something she would never be able to tell him again.

"As long as there is the future I will hope that it will get better." Y/n reassured y/f/n when the fan hurried off. Though it was a lie. Who was she to know what the future held? It felt as every day passed Shawn crept into her mind more and more, conquering everything inside of her so she felt nothing but guilt.

 -

  'If my heart was paper I'd fold it, throw it to the wind and just hope it ends up with you'

Shawn walked through his hotel room feeling drained from the chaotic day that just never seemed to end. He slammed himself onto the bed that seemed too big for just him alone, another reminder of why he needed y/n, staring up at the ceiling. His body wanted to give into sleep that very moment, muscles aching from over exhaustion and lack of sleep, but he fought sleep as much as he could. Tonight he chose to me mad with y/n for the first time in seven month he was furious at her for ending everything. Although he may have given her a reason she is the one that chose to stop trying, he couldn't have done anything, she had made up her mind and given up.

He hated her for giving up so easily while he was sat here over half a year later still so hung up on her when she clearly didn't feel the same way. Had that been her plan all along, make him fall so hopelessly in love with her that he wouldn't be able to fall out of love once she left. He decide to believe that yes that was her plan, that this was all a game to her. That she was sitting back with a glass of wine watching him through some hidden camera. Although deep down he knew that y/n wasn't that cruel and the idea was pathetic it made it easier to hate y/n in that moment. He hadn't been able to get angry at her until now. How did she have such a hold on him after so long. He even thought that he loved her more now that she was gone than he ever had while they were together. You don't truly know the meaning of someone until you know longer have them by your side.

He wanted to rip his heart  out so he wouldn't love her anymore but of course that would do more harm than good. Even if his heart did control the emotions he felt he wouldn't want to rip it out and cease the feelings he suffered through because of y/n, he loved her and was willing to accept the fact that although she couldn't be in his life anymore he still had the emotions and the memories. Some people die without truly having loved the way he loves y/n.

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