#sab writes

[ggukiepie]

one of your girls (jungkook x reader) (part 1)

we don't gotta be in love, no i don't wanna be the one, no i just wanna be one of your girls tonight ~ i wanna take your light inside dim me down, snuff me out ~ give me tough love leave me with nothin' when i come down

pairing: fwb!jk x oc, brief jimin x oc

tags: smut, angst, a little bit of fluff (like teeny tiny)

warnings: two smut scenes, kissing, marking (hickeys), fingering, brief handjob, protected sex, slight dom!jk, sub!oc, praise, dirty talk, grinding, edging, oral (f. & m. receiving), throat fucking, dacryphilia, spit kink, brief masturbation (m.), squirting, brief anal play, back shots, cum shot, multiple orgasms (you'll see), aftercare

word count: 5.8k

a/n: been in my feels lately i had to write it out lol; wrote this in one sitting my hands actually hurt omg; inspired by the song "one of your girls" (ik don't roast me idk why it's stuck in my head fml); if this gets taken down then bye bye i literally just wrote it here directly lmaooooo; anw enjoy !!!! part 2 / drabble i (flashback)

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You knew what you were getting yourself into the night you said yes to Jungkook. You knew you'd fall for him, be under his spell. You knew you'd end up getting hurt. You prepared yourself, you really did, yet you were still surprised when you woke up each morning and he wasn't beside you in bed. You felt your heart break a little bit more when you saw him with another girl, whether she'd be one of your friends or a complete stranger to you.

You tried to guard your heart. Reminded yourself to prepare for the worst. Forced yourself not to fall, not to be blindsided. I'm just having a little fun, you told yourself for the nth time.

jk: u busy tonight?

you: not really! just writing a paper that's due next week

That was sent hours ago and you mentally cringe at your reply. You always find yourself oversharing to Jungkook when you didn't even need to. You wanted to make it seem like your whole situationship was just casual. Like you didn't care. He rarely shared much about his personal life and so should you. But that hardly happened. You didn't want him to think that you cared, that you were clingy or waiting for him to text. You didn't even wait five minutes before replying and he hasn't even texted back.

You know what his text means. He wants to fuck and that's it. But he doesn't say it outright. No, never. He wants to make it seem like he cares, that he wants to know how your night is going. But he just wants to know if you're free to fuck and once you reply, he'll keep that as a reminder in the back of his mind, like he has a mental list of girls he can sort through at the end of the night when he's bored or when he wants to have a little bit of fun.

You know you're just one of his girls on his roster and you're fine with that. You're not his girlfriend and he's not your boyfriend. Though it does seem like that on some days, which is when you get the courage to not reply to his texts. When you try to shut him out and move on. He usually shows up outside your lecture hall with a cup of coffee in hand, bunny smile on his face as he waits for you to walk into the hallway. Like he's waiting for you, picking you up from class like a good and loving boyfriend.

It's all for show and it's only to get himself on your good side again. It works every time. You don't question yourself anymore. Jungkook likes the chase, likes the adrenaline of going after girls and trying to get them to fall for him, or sleep with him, or whatever. It's all the same to him.

You sigh again as you check your phone, hoping for a reply but knowing he won't text back. It's a Friday night and he's probably at some party. You go through your texts and open the conversation with your best friend.

jihyo: see u later! im picking u up so u better be ready >:(

You can't help but laugh at her insistence. Jihyo knows what you're going through since you tell her everything. You tell her you don't care though, that you're not looking for a relationship right now and your "thing" with Jungkook is just casual. But you know she sees right through your lies. It's even more obvious when you ghost all your friends and lock yourself in your apartment every night. She's trying to make you forget and move on and have some actual fun so you indulge her every time.

You get ready in less than an hour and actually put some effort into your appearance. You're not sure which party you're going to but you won't be surprised if Jungkook will be there as well. Maybe if you look hot enough he'll choose you tonight.

You hear a knock on your door and open it immediately, finding Jihyo laughing at something her boyfriend has just said. Most of the time you end up hanging out with her and Mingyu because she's always dragging you with her to keep you from being lonely. You don't mind it though because they're fun people to be with. Even though Mingyu is Jungkook's roommate and best friend. But Mingyu isn't anything like Jungkook. He looks at Jihyo like she's hung up the stars and moon. Loves her with all his heart and doesn't leave her second guessing. You always wonder why him and Jungkook are friends when they're so different.

Jihyo turns to smile at you, but it's still the lovestruck smile she gave Mingyu just seconds ago. You know you have the same kind of smile reserved for Jungkook. You wish you didn't but at the same time you're glad you do, like you have a part of yourself only Jungkook can see. Even though he doesn't do the same.

"You look so hot tonight!" she squeals as she pulls you in a hug. You laugh and roll your eyes, making eye contact with Mingyu as he nods his head in greeting. Jihyo steps back and grabs your hand, dragging you out your apartment so fast you barely have time to lock the door behind you. "Let's go before all the good drinks are gone."

It's a short but fun walk to the house where the party is being held. You find yourself laughing with Jihyo and Mingyu the whole time. They're the type of couple that doesn't make third wheeling a bore.

Loud music blares in your ears the moment you step inside. You feel your heels sticking to the floor. A typical frat house throwing a typical Friday night party. You immediately take shots with Jihyo and Mingyu. You need it to be able to survive the night since you already feel yourself tensing up at the possibility of Jungkook being in the same place as you.

You spot your other friends and hangout with them for the rest of the night. It's when you're playing beer pong with Jimin as your partner do you see Jungkook at the other side of the room. He's talking to some girl which is nothing new. It shouldn't phase you but it does. You thought you were going to be his pick for the night since he texted you a while ago.

You feel your heart fall at the sight of them, your chest physically hurting that you make Jimin throw the ball twice for the both of you since you can't focus. You feel all the fun and happiness slowly leave your body. You feel your stomach churn at the way he's got her trapped against the wall, tattooed arm placed beside her head, mouth whispering right against her ear. She's smiling and giggling at whatever Jungkook is telling her. You wish that were you.

"Forget about him," Jimin mutters in your ear. He's watching your beer pong opponents take their turn as you're watching Jungkook and the girl.

You shake your head at Jimin, turning your head to smile at him just to make it seem like you're okay. Just like Jihyo, he sees right through you.

Jimin's another close friend of Jungkook. They're not so different. Jimin likes to sleep around but he makes it clear that he doesn't want anything serious. Always nice and gentle with the girls he sleeps with. Jungkook makes it seem like you're his and only his. You wonder again why they're friends.

"Seriously, Y/N," Jimin says, a little bit of urgency in his tone. It's probably the look of longing on your face that raises concern in your friend. Everyone sees how broken you look when you catch Jungkook with another girl.

"I know," you say after a while. You talk just a little bit loud enough to be heard over the music. "Jungkook and I just sleep with each other. It's casual and that's it."

You hear Jimin sigh. He nods his head and it's his turn to throw the dirty ping pong ball. You've had this conversation with him and Jihyo numerous times already, sometimes it's the both of them and sometimes it's on separate occasions. You say the same thing every time. You think your friends are starting to give up on you. Maybe you should as well.

You force yourself to have fun for the rest of the night, always trying to be in a room where Jungkook isn't. You're not sure if he's spotted you. You don't know which hurts more—him not spotting you because he doesn't even bother looking for you in the crowd, or him spotting you but not talking to you because you're not his choice for the night. Either way, he doesn't care. You know he doesn't but you wish you did. You thought you'd catch his attention with the black dress you're wearing. Or with the way your hair is styled. But it doesn't work and you tell yourself that it's okay. You always see him in your peripheral though, either talking to someone or flirting with that girl.

You decide to leave when you see Jungkook leaving as well, fingers tangled with the girl's. She looks like a giggling mess and you can't blame her. Everyone falls for Jungkook's charms. You try not to dwell on the fact that they're going to have sex.

It's Jimin who walks you home. He can tell you're sad so he talks about his day and his classes, avoiding Jungkook's name even though you're positive that they hung out today. Jungkook's intertwined in so many people's lives it's hard to leave him out. But Jimin makes an effort just to distract you. You're grateful for it though and he keeps up the act all the way to your apartment. He asks if he can use your bathroom and you say yes, mindlessly changing into your pajamas once the bathroom door closes behind you. You thought you'd have a little bit more time to finish changing but you suddenly hear Jimin swear behind you. You live in a little studio apartment so there's not much room to hide.

"Oh fuck— Shit," he says. You turn around laughing to see him with his hand over his eyes. "Sorry," he mumbles.

You're in your underwear but you don't mind. "It's not like you haven't seen me like this before," you chuckle.

"Still," he reasons.

Because you're stupid and heartbroken and hurt, you walk up to Jimin and gently grab his wrist, bringing his arm down to his side. You look at him looking at anywhere else but you. Eventually he looks down at your body for a split second and you laugh at him.

"We shouldn't," he whispers.

You shrug your shoulders. "Just a little bit of fun, right?" you ask with a smile on your face. "Like old times?" you giggle.

Jimin lets out a scoff but it's more of a laugh. Like he can't believe you're both doing this again. "You sure you're not drunk?" he asks as he makes eye contact with you. Bingo. You got him.

"Nope," you say sweetly.

"But Jungkook?"

You roll your eyes to mask the hurt. "Don't care."

Jimin looks at you intently to make sure you're not bluffing. While you wait for his answer you unclasp your bra and let it fall down your shoulders, exposing yourself to him. His eyes widen at the sight.

"Okay," he breathes out. He suddenly holds you by the waist to place you on the kitchen counter. It has you giggling at him.

"Eager?" you ask when he starts kissing your neck. You feel him drag his teeth across your skin, like he's thinking if he should mark you up or not. You stretch your neck out even more and feel him biting at your skin, sure to leave a bruise.

"Just excited," he mumbles against your neck. You feel him smile.

You unzip his pants while he's busy sucking your nipples. He's hard already when you start pumping your hand up and down his cock.

"Feels good, baby," he moans in your ear. You're still wearing your underwear but Jimin doesn't mind, just pushes it to the side to insert two of his fingers inside your pussy.

"Oh," you choke out. He finds your spot right away and rubs his fingers against it. He doesn't make you come, just fingers you to make sure you're prepped. It's quick when he takes his fingers out and grabs the condom in the back pocket of his jeans. You watch him tear the packet open and roll the condom down his length.

You both don't say anything else as he pushes his cock past your tight walls. Doesn't give you a moment before he starts pounding, his skin slapping against yours.

It's always like this with Jimin—just quick and easy and no feelings attached. You both don't do it much, it happens at the most random times. Usually when you want to forget or when he's stressed from school. And after this you're both back to being friends. It's never awkward. You wish it were like this with Jungkook instead.

"Jimin," you moan when he starts rubbing your clit. "Gonna come."

"Go ahead, baby," he breathes out, placing a soft kiss on your cheek and leaving his lips there. You push yourself to release and Jimin follows right after. You're both breathing heavily when he pulls out, taking off the condom and throwing it in the bin. He zips up his pants and starts looking for something on your bed. You're still trying to catch your breath when you feel a shirt being put over your head. Jimin's sweet like this—does aftercare in the most platonic way possible.

"There," he says after helping you wear the shirt he found. He doesn't know it belongs to Jungkook. You don't think he minds if he does though.

"Thank you," you say quietly and give him a small smile.

"Anytime. I'll see you around, okay?" He kisses your forehead and you watch him leave your apartment.

The silence engulfs you and you think you should feel disgusted with yourself—that you're pining over a guy but you just had sex with another. With his close friend out of all people. But you push the thought to the back of your mind as you jump down from the kitchen counter and walk into your bathroom. You're just like Jungkook, you tell yourself. Just casually sleeping around and nothing else. He doesn't care and you don't either. You feel a teeny bit better.

You take a warm shower to wash all the remnants from tonight. You actually take your time just to clear your jumbled up mind. It's almost 30 minutes later when you step out and check your phone while you're drying off, heartbeat stopping at a text you've received almost an hour ago.

jk: u up?

jk: hey reply to me :(

jk: coming over

Your eyes widen at the last text. It was sent just 10 minutes ago. You don't know where he's coming from but the campus isn't that big so he'll probably be here soon. You quickly finish drying off and change into comfortable clothes. You hear a knock on the door the moment you finish changing. You take a deep breath before walking to the door and opening it.

You notice Jungkook's wearing the same clothes from the party but his shirt is a bit wrinkled. You think he just came from the girl's place. Probably fucked her and is here now because he's not satisfied. You should feel disgusted and mad but you're not. You're no better. You just slept with his friend.

"Hi," you mutter.

He smiles at you and leans in to kiss you on the lips. "Hey, sweetheart." It has you swooning.

You step to the side to let him in and he walks straight to your bed, sitting down to take off his shoes before lying down comfortably. You follow him and sit down on your bed right by his waist. He stretches out his arm to drape it over your thighs and you start tracing his tattoos absentmindedly. This is your usual routine.

"Did you stay in all night?" he asks. Just a little bit of conversation before he does what he's really here for. At least he has a little bit of decency. You don't mind though, it makes you think that he cares about you when he asks things like this.

You shake your head and smile at him. "Nah, Jihyo and Mingyu dragged me to that frat party." You can tell he's trying to hide his surprise.

"Oh, I didn't see you there," he mumbles.

"It's okay." You shrug. "There were a lot of people."

"We could've played beer pong together, I know you like doing that every time you're out."

Your heart clenches at his remark. You're surprised and hurt every time he remembers little things about you. "I was with Jimin, don't worry." Jungkook doesn't know the double meaning to it.

He nods and runs his fingers across your thighs. "Missed you. Sorry I didn't reply to your text earlier, got caught up in something." You know that's a lie. "Just got back from the party too, that's why I came here late." Another lie.

You nod and smile as if you believe him. And you force yourself to because it's easier than knowing the truth. It's silent for a moment before he mumbles c'mere and brings you on top of his lap.

"Missed this," he says quietly as he squeezes your thighs. His hands trail up your waist till he's squeezing your tits beneath the shirt you're wearing. You start grinding on his cock, getting out of breath too quickly. You missed this too. It's been a week since you last had sex with Jungkook which is a long time for the both of you.

"Kook," you pant. He's pinching your nipples knowing that's where you're most sensitive.

"I know, sweetheart. Take your shirt off for me, hm?"

You nod your head dumbly and do as you're told, watching Jungkook stare at your body. He stops moving beneath you and you're about to ask what's wrong when he brings his hand up to touch the hickey on your neck that Jimin left.

"Who's this from?" he asks. You can't tell if he's mad or just curious. Jungkook isn't showing any emotions on his face and you're starting to get nervous.

"Just..." You think if you should tell him the truth. You look into his eyes and try to see if there's any semblance of care. You don't know. You really can't tell. Then your eyes trails down his body, to his neck and the wrinkly white shirt he's wearing. There's a red stain on the collar and you know it's lipstick. From the girl he slept with earlier. "Someone," you finally mumble.

"Someone?" He continues rubbing the spot gently until he presses down on it with his thumb. He doesn't press down too hard, but it's with enough force to have you hissing slightly.

"It's from Jimin," you finally say. He doesn't say anything but raise an eyebrow at your reply. You don't know if he already knows that you and Jimin have slept together. He doesn't look so surprised, or maybe he is and he's just really good at schooling his expressions.

He makes eye contact with you again and you feel his hand going to the back of your head, grabbing a handful of your hair to press your lips against his. The kiss feels urgent and rushed, his tongue instantly slipping in your mouth and tangling with yours. You're on top of him yet you feel defenseless as he holds you by your hair and kisses you hard. You let Jungkook do as he pleases and forget about the little conversation you just had. You start grinding on his cock again and he reciprocates this time, hips moving against yours.

Before you know it, he rolls you over and pins your arms above your head. You stare at him with wide eyes and he smirks at you in return. He holds your wrists with one hand and takes off your shorts and underwear with the other. He's fully dressed while you're not and you know you're at his mercy. He knows this too as he spreads your thighs apart with his hand.

"Keep your hands there," he whispers. You hold your bed frame for good measure. You just want to please him. He trails kisses down your body, from your neck to your nipples to your tummy. He stops by your thighs and you feel his breath against your skin. You squirm beneath Jungkook to get him to do something, to touch you and pleasure you. He shakes his head, still with that damn smirk on his face. He starts kissing your thighs, close to your pussy just to tease you.

"Didn't know you and Jimin have a thing going on," he says against your skin. You shiver at the vibrations his voice provides.

You feel Jungkook bite down on your inner thighs. "We don't," you choke out. He scoffs and starts kissing your pussy. Just light kisses that start making you crazy because you just want his mouth on you. "We're just friends," you say weakly.

He looks up from where he's laying between your legs. "Like us?"

Us.

You know what he means but at the same time you don't. You're friends with Jimin like you're friends with Jungkook. But you don't long for Jimin like you do for Jungkook. You don't yearn for Jimin the same way, don't look for him in every place you're at, don't pine for his affection or his touches. Jimin isn't like Jungkook and you both know that. You just don't know if you're different from the other girls Jungkook fucks.

"No," you say truthfully. It's said with defeat and desperation because you know he's not going to touch you till you answer him. "Not like us."

You know Jungkook won't pry anymore because he finally starts licking your pussy, starting with your outer lips until his tongue is inside your hole licking every crevice. Then he starts sucking your clit and that's when you truly lose it, legs going around his head to keep him against your cunt.

"Fuck," you almost scream. You're so close already that you should feel embarrassed but you're not. Jungkook knows your body too well. No one holds a candle to how good he eats you out. "Please," you whimper.

"Please what, sweetheart?"

"Please make me come!" you beg. "Need it, need it so much." You starting grinding your hips against his mouth.

"You're so desperate," he chuckles. It's said meanly but the comment flies over your head. You don't care anymore; you just want some sort of release. "But not yet."

You suddenly feel cold because Jungkook removes his mouth from you, standing up and getting out of the bed to remove his clothing. You continue holding the bed frame above you because you want to be good for him. You watch him strip his clothes off till he's naked just like you, tattooed hand wrapping around his cock.

It's long and thick and it splits you open every time he fucks you. You really don't know how you manage to take him every time.

Jungkook is so mean and unfair with the way he's teasing you right now, pleasuring himself while you lay on the bed. You're about to open your mouth to complain when he finally nods his head, motioning you to get up. "Kneel. Hands behind your back, okay?"

You nod your head and get in position on the bed, head tilting up to look at his cock. It's so hard and the tip is already leaking. You just want your mouth around him.

"Open," he says.

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, just the way Jungkook likes. As expected, he spits directly into your mouth and you swallow right away.

"Good girl. Now suck."

He brings his cock to your lips and you immediately start sucking. You push your length all the way in till you feel him at the back of your throat.

"Gotta take all of me in, pretty. Or else I won't fuck your little pussy."

You know Jungkook takes his threats seriously so you back up a little to catch your breath before taking him in your mouth again. God, he's so big and thick your jaw is already starting to feel sore. But you power through and keep taking him in your mouth until your nose touches his tummy. You try not to gag around him but it's no use. You also feels your eyes tearing up.

Jungkook doesn't care you're struggling. In fact, he loves it because he's got that stupidly handsome smile on his face. He strokes your cheeks for a while and you try to even out your breathing.

"I wanna fuck your throat, sweetheart. Can you take it?" he asks sweetly.

You know it's a rhetorical question but you nod anyways, as much as you could with a dick down your throat.

"Let me in then."

You close your eyes and relax your throat even more. Jungkook holds your head then and pushes you towards him even deeper. You're helpless since your hands are behind your back. You gag again and start feeling lightheaded.

"There we go," he finally says once his whole length is in your mouth. You feel the tip down your throat. You're struggling so much but you try not to move. You just want to please him. "Gonna move now," he mumbles and starts moving his hips. You let him fuck your throat for God knows how long. You're full on crying when he stops and withdraws his length halfway out your mouth. You take the time to gasp for air and you even cough a little, head bowing down to regain your breathing. You faintly hear Jungkook laugh above you.

"I'm not yet done, love. Was just feeling nice enough to give you a little breather."

You nod your head and look up at him, mouth opening wide to let him know you're ready again.

"You just let me do whatever I want, huh?" he chuckles. You're not sure if he means something else but to you it does. You willingly let Jungkook do anything to you. Even if it results in heartbreak.

He stares at you for a while and spreads the spit and precum that's on your lips. "So messy." Then he's back to inserting his length inside your mouth. The glide is smoother this time since you're already prepped. "There we go," he groans out. He stays still and feels the imprint of his dick on your throat. "Look so pretty for me."

Jungkook starts moving again but thankfully his pace is slow this time. You're sure you'll have a sore throat by tomorrow.

"Keep your eyes open, okay? Wanna see you cry."

You look at him while he's fucking your mouth, looking at the way his cock moves in your throat. You're starting to lose your breath and you think Jungkook could tell as well because he grants you reprieve and steps back. You're coughing more this time, hands catching yourself in front of you. You barely get enough time to regain your breathing before you feel Jungkook grabbing your head and bringing your lips to his.

"Did so good for me," he says against your mouth.

You're trembling in his hold and you grab his arms to steady yourself. "Fuck me please," you try to say but your voice comes out hoarse and ragged.

He kisses your cheek and then your jaw. "I will, don't worry," he coos. "Always gonna give you what you want." Another lie. You know that's not true.

You're putty in his hands as he maneuvers you to the position he wants to fuck you in, which is on your hands and knees with your ass high in the air.

"Just like that," he whispers. He pushes down on your shoulders even more so that you're wide and open for him. He starts rubbing your pussy and you can't help but moan out loud. "You're so wet, sweetheart. All from sucking my cock?"

You nod wordlessly from your position on the bed. "Jungkook!" you scream as he plunges two fingers in your pussy. He's ruthless as he fucks his fingers fast and hard, hitting your g-spot right away. "Please," you cry out. You're so wound up and tense and you just want to come already but he won't let you.

You hear Jungkook chuckle from behind you. "Still so tight, baby. Thought Jimin stretched you out already." You're about to reply but you feel his thumb press against your rim and your senses go haywire, mind going blank because you're so overwhelmed.

"Please, please," you beg quietly. You're crying again and you'd do anything at this point to get Jungkook to fuck you. He withdraws his fingers from your holes and you hear the crinkling of plastic behind you. You turn your head slightly to see him slipping a condom on. Jungkook has never fucked you raw and you never asked why because you already know the answer. You'll get hurt hearing the truth anyway.

He holds your hips to steady you. He rubs the head of his cock up and down your folds. "You want this?" he asks roughly.

"Yes. Please."

Finally, finally, Jungkook pushes his cock in your pussy. It doesn't take long because you're so wet he slides right in to the hilt.

"You feel so good around me." He stills for a moment and you grab your ass to spread your cheeks even more.

"Please move, Kook."

You hear him groan. "God, baby, you're filthy." He starts fucking into you and your mind goes blank. You feel his thick cock slide in and out, the tip already kissing your cervix.

"Feels so good," you mumble incoherently. Jungkook fucks you quick and hard, holding your hips so tightly you know it's going to bruise. You feel his balls slap against your clit which adds even more pleasure. You feel yourself getting close again and arch your back.

"Can I please come?" you ask through your moans. "Please let me come, Jungkook. Please—"

"Come," he finally says. It's the only word you need to hear before you let go, that coil in you snapping and bringing pleasure all over your body. You don't know you're moaning so loudly you're almost screaming. You feel your pussy just gush and it gets so wet and sticky you're surprised Jungkook doesn't slip out. It's so filthy that you hear squelching noises as well. Your orgasm goes on for so long you don't know how you're still holding yourself up.

"You creamed my cock so much, baby," Jungkook says. He slows down his pace but he's still moving so you can ride out your high. "Got me wet and even your sheets."

You barely hear him and there's just a buzzing sound around your head. Your body feels so heavy and you just want to collapse but you arch your back even more for Jungkook.

He laughs. "Think I fucked you stupid." He increases his pace again and you just kneel there and take it. "Gonna make me fucking come," he growls as his hips snap against yours. "Fuck." He fucks you some more and you groan every time he hits your g-spot.

Suddenly, he pulls out so fast. "Don't move," he groans. You stay in place and watch him remove the condom off, hand going to stroke his cock as he brings himself to his release. You feel his come on you, right on your pussy and asshole. "Fuck, baby," he groans. You feel even stickier with his load on you. Then he bends down to kiss your neck, and then your cheek, and then a gentle one on your lips.

"You okay?" he asks quietly. His arm goes to wrap around your waist and you slowly start sinking onto the bed.

"Mhm," you mumble and try to keep your emotions at bay. You always feel so overwhelmed after sex with Jungkook. You let a few tears fall down your cheeks but it's the kind of tears of relief from an intense orgasm.

Jungkook presses his front against your back, not caring that his come is still on you. He starts kissing your face again then rubs his nose up and down your throat. "Just breathe, yeah?" he says quietly. You nod weakly against his hold and do just that. The both of you say nothing as you try to calm your racing heart.

You don't know how many minutes pass by until Jungkook stands up. You don't have the strength in you to move your position on the bed or ask where he's going. A few minutes later you feel a wet rag on your back. You let Jungkook clean you up while the both of you still don't say a thing. Then he's moving you on the bed again so your head is on the pillows and he's right behind you, lying down comfortably to be the big spoon. You feel him kissing your head.

"Sleep," he mumbles against your hair. With Jungkook holding you and with his steady breaths guiding yours, you fall asleep right away.

..••°°°°••..°°••....••°°..••°°°°••..

You don't know what time it is when you wake up but there's still sunlight peeking through your curtains so you suppose it's still morning. You turn to face the other side of the bed only to find it empty. You don't know what time Jungkook left, if he stayed the night or left the moment you fell asleep. You're used to it already but it doesn't mean you're not hurt. Your heart constricts at the empty space beside you. You move again to lay on your back and cover your face with yours hands, letting out shaky breaths while trying not to breakdown. God, maybe Jimin was right. Just forget about him.

But it's hard not to. It's hard to forget about him when you have sex constantly, when his touches are gentle but also rough. When he wants you to reply to his messages and when he wants you against his body. It's hard because he's friends with your friends. It's hard when he takes care of you after every intense orgasm. It's hard when he makes it seem like he wants you just as much as you want him.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook one shot #bts one shot #jjk one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #fuckboy!jk #fwb!jk #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #mine #sab writes #jk #fwb!jungkook #fuckboy!jungkook

[thebridgetonarnia]

I wanna talk about Hard of Hearing Steve Harrington! I posted a version of this on twitter but wanted to edit and expand it slightly here. so please enjoy some HoH!Steve finding community through his and Eddie's deaf daughter.

Steve and Eddie weirdly have Richard Harrington to thank for their daughter. One of his mistress's had a child who was born deaf.

Richard wanted nothing to do with this child, or the girl's mother. He scoffed at the woman who just wanted some help, and told her "It looks like all his children are broken, and Harrington's demand perfection."

So this young woman - younger than Steve is at the time - who is alone in the world puts the child up for adoption, and as next of kin, Steve gets a call, asking about a child.

He and Eddie immediately say yes, of course they'll take the child. They'd been thinking about children for a long time, but they hadn't been so lucky in that department. Steve's half sister, as it happens, needs a home, because their good for nothing sperm donor of a father abandoned them both. So they will raise her, as their own, and she will never be made to feel othered, or lesser than. They name her Hope.

Steve has been wearing hearing aides for years now, he and Eddie had thought idly about learning sign language over the years, but they've never been able to commit. It always gets pushed to the side for other things, and Steve hears well enough anyway with his aides.

But with Hope? They buy all the books, and take lessons with Robin at the community college, because she's going to need it to communicate with the world.

Steve picks it up quickly, and he and Eddie watch as their infant toddler picks up language and can communicate with them. It's really a sight to see.

The guy who teaches the class is a CODA, child of deaf adults, and he puts them on to the Deaf community in the city, urges them to make sure their kid grows up with people like her.

So once again, they dive head first into the community, because Steve and Eddie would rather die than make Hope feel isolated. They take Hope to kid friendly Deaf events, they meet Deaf adults, and slowly as Steve talks to other Deaf people, he realizes that something just clicks for him.

Something had slotted out of place inside of him the second his hearing started to go, when he started to feel like he wasn't built for the world around him anymore, and people started to treat him differently for wearing hearing aides so young.

Eddie and the Party have always made him feel comfortable, they always make sure they look at him when they speak to him, never tell him never mind, or I'll tell you late when he misses anything. But even with all that support, he sometimes still feels like an outsider. But that off-balanced thing slides right back into place when he's at Deaf events with Hope because these people understand him so fundamentally.

Steve makes friends - outside of their little found family - actual friends who see him for who he is, not for what he lacks.

He wears his hearing aides less and less, and sign gets used in their home more and more, even when Hope isn't around. He starts to identify as Deaf. It feels like when he started dating Eddie, like the world opened up to him.

He's so so grateful to his father for the first time in his life because his affair brought Hope into their lives, and she is the best thing that ever happened to him and Eddie, and she gave Steve a community of people that made him feel comfortable in the world again.

And when Steve finds the Deaf Queer community? Well that just feels like coming home.

#also the party obviously learns asl too #varying degrees of skill #but they all learn because they all love steve and hope and want her to feel part of the family #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #hoh steve harrington #deaf steve harrington #stranger things #steddie dads #sab writes

[sambvcks]

of first, second, third, fourth meetings, e.m. x reader

pairing: eddie munson x fem! reader

summary: The first time we met we hated each other. You didn’t hate me, I hated you. And the second time we met, you didn’t remember me. I did too, I remembered you. The third time we met, we became friends. We were friends for a long time. And then we weren’t. And then we fell in love. – When Harry Met Sally.

warnings: cursing (like a lot), holding not-so lifelong grudges, mention of stage fright, head-cannoning that eddie was kinda a jerk before he was given a proper thump in the head, so divergent from the actual events of season 4 it’s scary, celebration of Christmas (exchanging of gifts).

word count: 5.1k (HUH???)

author’s note: AKA Eddie Munson + RomCom tropes = Perfection. Eddie deserves to be happy. Season 4? Never heard of her. (no fix it fics in this house, we actively pretend it didnt happen)

[ read on ao3 | masterlist | inbox ]

first meeting.

Looking back, it’s so silly to remember the things that seemed so important to the freshman version of yourself. One week, it was some science project that escaped your mind the second it was turned it. The next, it would be the new shoes your mom bought you – off brand and noticeably so. The other girls had real Converse, why did you have to settle for the Payless knockoffs? One particular week, it was talent show try outs.

You had been rehearsing your song day and night, much to your mom’s chagrin. Her overnight shifts only afforded a preciously small window for sleep, something you tried your very best to not disturb (you still did). You had even laid out your best outfit – a hand me down blouse and tweed skirt that you had tailored to fit a little shorter than your mom approved of.

The line of acts auditioning was slowly dwindling, leaving you and a gaggle of boys that looked like they had walked straight off of a Metallica poster to exist solely as every parent’s worst nightmare. They were each absentmindedly fiddling with their instruments, fine tuning and flipping drumsticks as they awaited their turn, contrasting heavily with your noticeably panicked state.

“Do you mind? I think you’re gonna leave a dent in the floor with all your pacing.” Grumbled their leader.

Eddie Munson.

Easily recognizable with his growing hair and the spattering of patches of bands you had never heard of across his jean vest. He was loud. Loud enough that even newly christened Hawkins High School freshmen like you knew his reputation and, more importantly, knew to avoid him if you had a good head on your shoulders. Which you liked to think you did.

Still, who were you to judge, with your barely elevated trailer park aesthetic, homemade lunches, and hair you cut yourself? Benefit of the doubt, you decided. Maybe Eddie Munson wasn’t the devil-worshipping cultist he had garnered the reputation of. Maybe he was just misunderstood, an outcast but a good guy.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, steadying yourself against a wall and hoping beyond hope that he would leave it at that. You could still feel his eyes, though, skirt across your fidgeting form.

“Nervous?”

As if it wasn’t obvious. Your nails had been chewed to the nub and the skirt you had altered was starting to fray at the edge from your constant fiddling with it.

“No need to be, the people running this thing have no idea what real music sounds like. We’ve tried every year, still no takers.” He gestured back to his group of misfits, who only seemed half interested in the conversation. “But you seem top 40. Let me guess…Madonna? Will they let you sing ‘Like a Virgin’ at a school talent show? We’re playing ‘Rainbow in the Dark’. Ever heard of it?”

This drew the attention of the other boys, who cackled like he had told some life-changing joke.

“I-I-” You tried, but Eddie was quicker.

“Jesus, if you’re this nervous before the audition, imagine you up there! Stage lights on you, no one there to save you. You’d just-” His hands wrapped around his own neck, tongue sticking out and eyes rolling back as he pretended to struggle for breath.

Oh, no. Eddie Munson wasn’t a misunderstood good guy. He was an asshole.

Before you could come up with some half-assed retort, the gym door was swinging open. The person ahead of you, Tammy Thompson, was walking out with her head held high. No doubt the teachers they had roped into running the talent show this year had given some sort of standing ovation and maybe even got down on their knees in praise. If they were feeling particularly frisky. Your name was called and you were ushered in so quickly your head spun.

“Good luck.” A teasing voice followed behind you.

You totally choked. Haunted by Eddie fucking Munson and the echoes of his band’s laughter, you were barely able to get two lines out without the air hitching in your lungs. The tears came next as you high tailed out of there without an explanation.

Munson and his friends were still loitering around, awaiting their turn. You wondered, briefly, if they were forced to the end of the auditions in hopes that they would just give up and spare everyone the trouble. You marched past them, eyes stinging and lip quivering as you spat out a single “fuck you” in their general direction.

When the list of acts was pinned to the bulletin board the next morning, you weren’t too surprised to not see your name amongst the ranks.

You did feel a little more than satisfied when Corroded Coffin wasn’t, either.

Within a week, the whole ordeal was forgotten with the announcement of a five page English paper on foreshadowing in Romeo and Juliet. Eddie Munson and his band of freaks were out of your mind, too. High school was funny like that.

second meeting.

Taking up an after-school job on top of your weekend babysitting/tutoring duties was a no brainer. The bills on your kitchen table continued to pile up and your mom’s hours kept getting cut shorter and shorter. She hadn’t explicitly asked you, but as soon as you turned sixteen you applied at the music store on Main Street without debate.

The owner, a lonely old man named Bill, had made plenty of conversation with you whenever you went in to rifle through the discount record section in the past. You had a pension for finding the diamond in the rough, the no name artists that were subjected to the back of the crates, something Bill respected about you. Even with zero experience, he happily hired you on the spot.

So, after band practice you would work a quick five-hour shift and zoom home to pour over homework until you made a half-assed midnight dinner before your mom had to leave for her night shift.

It wasn’t all bad. The bags accumulating under your eyes were minimized when Bill sold you his old, beat-up Volkswagen for a week’s pay. Way under value – even for the gas guzzling, unreliable hunk of junk, but Bill was something like the grandfather you never had. At least, you were the granddaughter he never had.

You were independent, no matter now little sleep you really got. And you got to chat all day about your one true love – music. You weren’t all top 40. You assisted old ladies in picking out records for their grandkids, helped couples looking for a copy of their favorite song, introduced new artists to unlikely fans.

Then, on an ordinary Tuesday, in he came.

Eddie Munson.

His car was almost as loud and worthy of the junkyard as yours was, so it was difficult to miss his impending arrival.

You hadn’t really thought about him since Freshman year, two years prior, willing yourself to forget one of your most embarrassing memories. It seemed it was just as easy for Eddie to forget, as he paraded in with an easy smile and a casual greeting. He perused the shelves for a few minutes, oblivious to the bubbling rage in your gut, which manifested as the harshest glare you could manage.

“Hey, uh-” He glanced down at your name badge, “Sorry to bother. You guys got the new Metallica yet? This is, like, the fourth place I’ve been to.”

His smile was almost charming. He was certainly easier to look at now, even with his still unruly hair and fading jean vest. So similar to that day three years ago that you almost felt fourteen again, shrinking under his unwavering stare. It was something you refused to admit even to yourself, how he never shrunk under pressure. He took the absolute vitriol spewed at him daily and dished it back just as easily. He had grown into his gangly limbs, jaw more defined and the hint of a tattoo peeking from under the collar of his shirt. If you hadn’t sworn to hate his living guts until the day one of you was put six feet under, you might even call him attractive.

But you weren’t fourteen anymore, and you certainly weren’t letting him get the last laugh this time.

“Sure, follow me.”

“Sweet. While I have you, any recommendations?”

“Broadening your horizons, Munson?”

He seems startled that you know him, as if he wasn’t solely responsible for a week’s worth of tear-stained fits of rest. If anything, he looked a little nervous that you did know him. Like you would turn on your heel and kick the troublemaker out. No Metallica, no service.

“Uh, sort of.” His head tilted as he followed closely behind your determined steps, craning for another glance at your face. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I go to Hawkins. How’s your second senior year treating you, by the way?”

Okay, maybe that was a low blow. But he started it, right? Either way, he seemed unphased by the question.

“Ah. It’s, uh, riveting. Really getting the most out of Mr. William’s Chem class the second time around. Might take it again just for the fun of it.”

You almost laugh, but you won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Here.” You pull the new Metallica from its display, the only copy available. “And my recommendation.” You hand over Rio’s Holy Diver, an album you were sure he had listened to backwards if the hand-stitched t-shirt adorning the back of his vest was any indicator. “It’s all great, but my personal favorite is ‘Rainbow in the Dark’. Ever heard of it?”

You watched, satisfied, as the wires in his brain began to piece this interaction together, firing faster than maybe they ever had before. His jaw fell, eyebrows shooting up beyond his shaggy bangs.

“I do know you! You’re-”

“The girl whose dreams of musical stardom you dashed in a single day. Finally, he remembers!”

“Jesus, it’s been, what? Two years?”

“Try three.” You snatched the cassette back, placing it delicately back on the shelf.

“Wow. You’ve, uh, changed a bit.”

Your nails, once a pristine Ballerina Slipper Pink were now a chipped charcoal black. The blouse and tailored skirt he had seen you in before was now replaced by a slightly too big ‘Bill’s Music’ t-shirt and jagged black jeans. You had found a bit of grunge and, if Eddie was pressed on the matter, he would admit that it looks good on you.

“Yeah, well. Someone stole away my dreams of fame, so I’ve fallen into a life of crime and rock and roll.” You maneuvered back to the register, hoping to end this interaction as quickly as it had started. If you were quick enough, Eddie Munson would be gone in a cloud of exhaust smoke from his shitty van in the next five minutes.

“I need to tell you, I still feel like an asshole about that.”

Oh. Oh shit. In all your fantasies about finally getting back at Eddie Munson – slashing his tires, stealing that stupid tin lunchbox he always carried around with him, maybe framing him for some crime – never did it include him actually feeling guilty. You had built him up in your mind as some soul-less villain, preying on the misfortunate.

“I talk a big game, but I still think about you running out crying. There’s no excuse, I’m just a natural dick, I guess.” He seemed almost shy, now. Haunted, even. Fingers fiddling with the edge of his coveted cassette. “I’m sorry.”

What were you to do? You could really stretch it out, let him feel that sinking gut feeling of guilt that would maybe match that fear you had felt on that stage three years ago. You could demand a public apology; he had no trouble making a fool out of himself if his lunchtime outburst were any indicator. But your mom had always taught you to be the bigger person.

“No big deal.” Sometimes you hated your mom and how her voice always rings in your head. “Already forgotten.”

His cassette was purchased, but not without him apologizing around another fifty times. He did disappear in a cloud of exhaust, his van puttering down the street and the faint tones of Metallica blasting through his window. His scent lingered, though, cheap cologne and cigarettes. You hated to think that you didn’t really mind it.

third meeting.

It was a little embarrassing, honestly. Cozying up to a group of freshman boys you had saved the world with was not on your senior year bucket list. Yet, you found yourself huddled around a corner table in the cafeteria, trying to map out the ins and outs of high school life to them.

Really, Robin was to blame. Robin - your talkative junior year Italian 3 desk mate - and your inexplicable hobby of linguistics which afforded you a basic understanding of the Russian alphabet were the two main culprits to this turn in your social life. Which then had you bunkered down in the Scoops Ahoy backroom attempting to translate a shady recording with Robin, Dustin, and Steve Harrington of all people.

And, sure, maybe the curly haired little weirdo had endeared you somehow. And you somehow found yourself promising Steve to watch over the kid after summer. Driving him around was the worst part – the gas alone was cleaning out a healthy chunk of your weekly paycheck. But his taste in music? You’d smother him before you allowed another Broadway soundtrack to crackle through your car speakers.

You remember the looks you got when you maneuvered the cafeteria as Dustin, Mike, and Lucas waved you over, the open mouth stares as the kids poured out of your Volkswagen on the first day back from Summer break. But fighting a Russian army and some multi-legged creature from another world created an unexplainable bond between the most unlikely of people and, honestly, would you even speak to any of these people after walking the stage at graduation anyway?

In return for your vast high school knowledge – which teachers to avoid, which bathrooms went unmonitored, which days they really needed to pack a lunch - the kids gave you a crash course on all things D&D, filling lunch periods with shitty cafeteria food and outlandish ideas for your blossoming character. They crafted an intricate narrative worthy of their high esteem for their sudden older-sister figure, picturing an elf, ethereal and full of curiosity and kindness.

You just wanted to smash things, but the boys promised the game went well beyond simple violence.

Then, a voice from a table over.

Eddie Munson.

He’d clocked the boys on the first day of school, looking lost and out of place in the hoard of cliques occupying each table. Then, you ushered them over like Galadriel to the lost, broken Fellowship and offered little pieces of yourself, of kindness and zero judgement. He was impressed, allowing you to seep into the recesses of his mind ever since he saw you rip off the sign some junior varsity football player stuck to Dustin’s back that said, ‘KICK THE FREAK!’. He watched, amazed, as you balled up the paper and chucked it in the general direction of laughter, hitting some linebacker square in the face.

Gone was the tear-stained girl running from the gym.

Recently, Eddie had found solace under gym bleachers during lunch, discussing upcoming band rehearsals and Hellfire Club meetings. But a weekend hangover actually had him craving the sorry excuse for cardboard that the school district called pizza, so they’d made the trek into the jungle of a cafeteria.

And there you were. Prettier than he remembered, but he was a stupid boy these past few years and anything beyond bootleg copies of Dio records and plans for upcoming campaigns did not have space in his mind. He’d scooped Henderson out of the bunch, much to your displeasure, and ushered your group over to his table with the promise of adventure beyond their wildest dreams.

The boys were easy. They were eager for any type of structure, particularly from an experienced Dungeon Master who seemed to have an ego of steel and a tongue of venom. You, with your faded t-shirts and your ‘Dungeons and Dragons for Beginners’ book loaned out from Mike’s vast collection felt like jumping out of a plane without a parachute. When Dustin noticed the distinct tension between his two new leaders, he voiced concern.

“We just go way back. Don’t worry. We’ll play nice.” You offered as explanation, seated as far away from Eddie as the small table could manage.

You kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Daily, you wondered when the teasing quips or the taunts would pick up. After all, Eddie was always eager to voice any amount of displeasure. Often, it was other students or teachers who didn’t know how to do their job. Sometimes it was as simple as the sun shining too bright or his bangs not falling the way he favored. But never you. He never had a single negative word to send your way.

Instead, he was patient. He started teaching you the ins and outs of D&D, offering pointers and directions for your character to take. He told you which weapons were worth your time and even gave insight into upcoming battles he had planned, offering you the slightest edge.

Before long, you were hanging out without the kids – which seemed like an impossible task because at least one of them seemed to always be trailing behind one of you. But when you had a late-night shift at Bill’s or Eddie just felt like bugging you (a near daily occurrence), there he was. He helped stock shelves even though that was your main job description, he played his favorite songs over the store loudspeakers, much to the displeasure of the customers, and he was so fucking nice it was driving you up the wall.

“Hey, just so you know, I got my Tuesday night shift switched for Thursday. In case you felt like dropping in again and driving even more customers away.”

Eddie was stationed at the classical section, flipping through records to laugh at the artists’ powdered wigs and cherub cheeks.

“Oh yeah? Got a hot date?”

Your silence spoke wonders.

“Dear lord. Who?” He demanded. You shrugged, not ready for this conversation. “C’mon, don’t be embarrassed. If it makes you feel any better, nobody is good enough for my best friend.”

A term he had adopted when you first let him use your employee discount and had stuck since. Dustin pretended not to be jealous – and a little curious – the first time Eddie had said it in front of the whole group without a single note of sarcasm.

“So, you might as well just tell me.” He wasn’t really paying attention, deft fingers still flicking through a crate of records. You were perched on the register counter, watching the clock at the seconds ticked by endlessly. Sunday night shifts were rough in a town like Hawkins, where everyone was too tired after a hot church service to spend any of their hard-earned money.

“His name is Jake.”

“Ugh. I hate him already.”

“You only know his name!”

“That’s enough. Imagine being named Jake. Depressing.” Eddie finished one crate and moved on to the next. “Sounds like he sells insurance and cheats on his wife.”

“Jesus. It’s one date. A free, hot meal, at worst.”

“That’s what prostitutes say, babe.”

He was always like this. Argumentative and honestly a little annoying. But he was somehow your favorite person in the world because of and despite those things. Maybe you were those things too, and you flew to each other like moths to a flame. Kindred spirits, of sorts. You didn’t have a retort, so you resorted to throwing a coin at him from the Take-A-Penny, which he easily dodged.

“Fine. But when it turns out he’s trying to get you to join his cult, just say-”

“Sorry, I’m already in Eddie Munson’s?”

“Ha ha. Anyways, word of advice? Don’t do that thing you do.”

“Thing? I have a thing?”

“Oh yeah.” Eddie abandoned his crate, hoisting himself onto the counter next to you. His thigh pressed to yours, his hair brushing your shoulder as he silently offered his hand over. You fiddled with his rings, slipping one from his pointer and shoving it onto your thumb. “Your ordering thing. I find it so adorable and endearing but any normal person would probably just put you out of your misery.”

“Sorry if I like things a certain way.”

“Don’t apologize, babe. I like that about you. But it might not be first-date material, y’know?”

You huffed in annoyance but didn’t disagree.

“And if he’s a douche, I’ll plant some pot in his locker and get him expelled or something.”

-

Jake was a total douche.

He was nice, sure. At first. Held open doors, pulled out your chair. All the stuff you had seen in movies Robin made you rent to broaden your horizons. When the time for conversation came, though, it felt…off. There wasn’t that easy back and forth, the endearments and nicknames. It was fumbling for topics and finally settling on extra curriculars.

You’d sat through twenty minutes of him chattering on and on about the basketball team and something called man-defense, but he scoffed at the very mention of Dungeons and Dragons.

“Like that Munson guy? My dad said only Satanists play that shit.”

You politely excused yourself to the bathroom and bolted out of the staff exit before he could get another word out.

And when you appeared at Eddie’s front door, dressed up and visibly annoyed, he didn’t even make a comment. You knew the told you so was sitting on the tip of his tongue, so desperate to make an appearance it was nearly painful for him to hold it back. He just ushered you in, mixtape quickly slotted into his speaker system, and Dio’s ‘Rainbow in the Dark’ sounding off as the soundtrack to Eddie’s quiet comfort.

It was almost as if the date hadn’t happened in the first place, that you both knew you would end up here.

“Any deals tonight?” You asked, so accustomed to the knocks that would interrupt your quiet nights in. Eddie would disappear for no longer than a few minutes, leaving you to twiddle your thumbs on his bed until his return.

“Nah. Wanted to keep my schedule wide open for you.” He was sorting through his most recent supply, acting as if that wasn’t the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you.

You had years filled of missed holidays, forgotten birthdays. You didn’t blame your mom for her horrible boss or her proclivity to ignore the calendar. To think Eddie had pushed aside any other plans for when you would come running had something bubbling in your chest.

Eddie knew you would come. You knew you would end up there, like some sort of escape method. An escape back to Eddie Munson.

If only Freshman you could see you now.

fourth meeting.

Christmas was a notoriously solitary holiday for you. Luckily, this year’s holiday season had been filled to the brim with gifts for the kids on Christmas Eve and a little party at Steve’s place so the ‘adults’ could exchange gifts and just be relaxed for a bit – free from high school and work and otherworldly monsters.

Eddie had become such a fixture to your life, so easily attached to you that Steve didn’t even bat an eye when he ushered you both into the living room, eagerly accepting Eddie’s version of a Christmas present (a few joints to hand around). Even Nancy, with her big college plans and life scheduled down to the minute, let loose a bit and took a few overeager puffs followed by long bouts of coughing.

Steve and Robin pitched in for a new set of headphones for you, Nancy eagerly watched you unwrap some ungodly floral wrapping paper to unveil a cassette of some UK indie band she swore up and down you would love, something Jonathan had introduced her to.

You had been saving up for the past few months to get gifts deserving of each of your friends. You had spent endless hours obsessing over JC Penny mailers and gossip magazines that swore they knew the secret to buying the perfect gift during slow shifts at Bill’s.

Robin got a new pair of Converse and a pack of Sharpies so she could doodle to her hearts content. Steve got a new Walkman, since he had leant his old one to Dustin who swore up and down that he had returned it. You had even taken the time to get it engraved – Property of Steve Harrington, not Dustin! Nancy got a new journal for all her editorial notes, though you had filled the first page with a few polaroid’s of the group together.

As Steve, Robin, and Nancy got to work on properly defacing Robin’s new shoes, you felt a little nudge on your foot.

Eddie Munson.

Looking sheepish and nodding towards Steve’s kitchen. You followed behind him, hand patting at your back pocket to make sure his gift was properly secured. At least the other three had the decency to pretend to not be interested in whatever was developing.

“So I, uh, thought a lot about what to get you.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Eds.”

He rolled his eyes – his default facial expression when it came to you - and fished in his pocket for a second. A chain clinked as it dangled from his hand, offering it up for judgement.

“A guitar pick?”

“Not just any guitar pick, babe.” His fingers worked to unhook the latch. “Believe it or not, this is the very guitar pick I used when Corroded Coffin auditioned for that bogus talent show.” He latched the necklace around your neck as delicately as he could, hands lingering as he watched it fall to your collarbone. “The day we first met. The best day of my life.” He finally pulled away; eyes still glued to his guitar pick on your neck. “Y’know, besides the whole making you cry thing.”

“Eds, you absolute sap.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up about it.” He stepped back, and it felt like it was the first breath of air you had taken since walking into the kitchen. “Would’ve given you something worth more, like my soul or something. But you know that thing is long gone.”

“Well, my gifts no better.” You promised, fishing in your own pocket. “Here.”

His eyes scanned over the tickets you offered up.

“No way.”

“Yeah, they’re playing in Fort Wayne next month. We’ll probably die from altitude sickness from how high our seats are.” You shrugged. “But they’ll probably play ‘Rainbow in the Dark’, right?”

Eddie Munson, with his loudmouth and unwavering ability to find any situation hilarious was struggling to form a single coherent thought here. The way you looked with his pick around your neck certainly wasn’t helping either. His vision felt hazy, his ears were ringing in and all he could see was you. You, with your stupid optimism and endless music trivia. You, his best friend.

Was it normal to think about shoving your tongue down your best friend’s throat?

Eddie thought back to the last campaign you had barely concluded before Winter break. You and Dustin carried the party, right down to the wire. You were beaten up, barely ten hit points left between the two of you. Eddie had heavily pushed for a retreat. Orcus was one of the most powerful foes the party had faced to date and the odds were slim. Retreat, he had advised them. Retreat and live to fight another day.

Eddie didn’t think he could live another day without being able to kiss you.

No more retreating.

His hands were back around your neck, fingers curling into the newly placed chain. He didn’t even have time to steady himself before his lips were on yours. Aching, needy, desperate for something beyond best friends. Your tickets fluttered to the floor.

You returned in kind, hands gripping at the lapels of his stupid denim vest, the band patches scattered across the material much more familiar to you, now. Your back was pushed into Steve’s granite countertop painfully. You curled even further into Eddie, mouth eagerly opening for him as one hand traveled down your sternum, side, before settling at your waist.

A finger hooked into a loop in your jeans, pulling your hips flush to his.

You stepped on his sneakers in your eagerness to get closer, as close as you possibly could. He didn’t mind, hand weaving into your hair to tilt your head back, desperate both for a breath of air and a better view of his guitar pick disappearing beneath your blouse.

“How long?” You asked, wondering how many of those solitary nights camped on his bed, how many of those closing shifts spent thumbing through Beethoven’s classics, how many late-night campaigns could have been substituted for more of this.

“The whole time, I think.” He answered, nose nuzzling into the expanse of your neck. “You?”

“The same. I think.”

A boisterous laugh from the next room over burst your little bubble.

You were in Steve Harrington’s kitchen. It was Christmas night. Eddie Munson was sucking a hickey on the column of your throat like he’d drop dead if he didn’t accomplish his mission.

“I love you.” He pulled back, those doe-eyes finding yours. “You know that, right?”

There had been a time where the very thought of Eddie Munson brought tears to your eyes, memories of that botched audition had you seriously considering dabbling in witchcraft and fashioning a voodoo doll in his likeness. Now, it all felt so warm. Like his mixtape that was surely worn down to the bone with how often you flipped that thing, or his bedsheets tangled in your legs as you spent summer evenings watching him strum his acoustic guitar – the only one his uncle would tolerate at that late hour.

“I know. I love you too.”

It felt like meeting him all over again. This was not the Eddie that had made you cry outside the high school gym. You weren’t the girl who put your name on that audition sign-up sheet. You were just two strangers – deeply, desperately, foolishly destined to love each other until your last breath.

What a perfect introduction.

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn imagine #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #sab writes

[unsaid-stardust]

Sleep with The Light on

Anthony Lockwood couldn't say exactly when the habit started, but he could tell you exactly when it ended; sleeping with his beside lamp on, that is. And that abrupt end was when none other than Lucy Carlyle climbed into his bed at 3:30 am on a random Tuesday night. He supposed she had a nightmare of some sort, but they didn't talk about it. They didn't say anything at all because nothing needed to be said. She crept into his room and Lockwood knew exactly what was happening for it had been forming in the background since the day they met.

He motioned for her to join him and she complied with barely any hesitance. As Lucy shifted under the covers with him, Lockwood scooted over and hesitantly switched off the lamp on his bedside table. It's not that he wanted to. It was more so that he didn't want Lucy to think of him as a pathetic child that still needed a night light. Because it was stupid, wasn't it? That he needed the light to sleep.

But he did. Because between the inability to cross the invisible line, cut sharp between them on the mattress, and checking each crevice for newly emerging death glows, he could barely sit still. Let alone let sleep claim him. It was as though his insomnia had skyrocketed to level one thousand.

Still, he tried not to shift too much as Lucy laid with her back facing him. He tried not to stare and dwell on the fact that a girl was laying in the same bed he was. It was strictly platonic. Friends could sleep in the same bed. Especially when said friend was facing demons she did not talk about. Suddenly, Lucy stirred and Lockwood wondered for a moment if she could read his mind. He hoped not. There were things in his head that he didn't throw out into the universe for a reason.

Lockwood sighed and rolled his eyes as he shifted to face the wall instead of Lucy--the clock practically screaming at him. 3:50 am and sleep still had not found him. Nor Lucy apparently as she shifted once more next to him.

Just as Lockwood thought it was going to be another long night, the bed shifted as it creaked, the floorboard following in suit. A frustrated sigh escaped from Lucy and Lockwood turned toward her. He expected her to still be laying next to him, but instead, she was walking around to his side of the bed. Lockwood felt his body tense, unsure of what was happening next and it definitely wasn't what he expected in the slightest.

Lucy Carlyle turned the light back on.

Lockwood's body relaxed as Lucy made her way back to her side of the bed. She moved underneath the covers again, this time though, she laid so that her head was closer to Lockwood's shoulder as her eyes closed shut and a smile formed on her lips. Lockwood's own lips matched the expression and he slid further down the mattress so that his head could lay above hers.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but it must've been quickly after that because he woke the next morning feeling the most rested he had in months (maybe even years). The sunlight was pouring into his room and Lucy was still in his bed, her head using his right arm as a pillow. His lips curved into a smile as he resisted the urge to kiss the crown of her head. Instead, he focused on the clock on his wall--10:30 it read. That couldn't be right. He had never slept past 8.

At any other time, Lockwood would have sprung out of bed immediately, racing to deny whatever judgement George claimed for his sleeping so late. But, he had a sleeping Lucy laying on his chest. And what kind of person would he be to wake up such a sleeping masterpiece? Besides, if he did wake her up, Lockwood was pretty sure he'd be a dead man--if George didn't kill him first for missing the biscuit rotation.

tagging: @al-ghvl

#lockwood & co #locklyle #lucy x lockwood #sab writes

[manebioniclegali]

Nosy — Mafia AU

You've gotten pretty good at sticking your nose in places where certain people don't want you investigating. Unfortunately, someone's taken notice.

A/N: Gender neutral. I'M FINALLY POSTING THIS!! I've been sitting on it for monthsss. imo this works best if you don't look at the tags (unless you follow one of the character ones, in which case rip). If it wasn't for the fact I have to tag characters for this to be put out in front of people, I wouldn't've lol. It's not that much of a twist but I like the little element of (potential) surprise.

The back of your head aches, the pain intensifying into a throbbing centered around a particular point on your skull. You’re laying down; this you know. You think laying on your side is making it worse. It’s dark out.

You open your eyes. It’s still dark out.

The rope biting into your wrists and the cloth gagging you make themselves known before you register the sack over your head as the source of the darkness; you can see pinpricks of light through the weave in the fabric. You shift to get more comfortable, but find something firm and unmoving against your feet.

“They’re awake.”

A male voice cuts through the quiet, addressing someone else in a hushed tone. It’s not as silent as you once thought, the sounds of cars bleeding through. You slide a little as they take a curve too sharply. Someone leans over in the seat by your head, maybe making sure you won’t fall onto the ground. Or maybe some other reason. After all—

Wait. Am I really being kidnapped?

Last you remember, you were following a lead on another business that might have been a mob front, one that you think could have led you to a prominent member of society, and it brought you to a part of town you thought would be fine, especially in the middle of the day. But then there was that sharp pain at the base of your skull, and the world going black…

…and now this, in an automobile going who-knows-where, with who-knows-who, wanting who-knows-what.

“Make sure they stay quiet,” comes the reply. You’d roll your eyes if you weren’t still groggy. What the hell else were you supposed to do? “I don’t want to hear a single sound from them.”

The person beside you pokes your back. “You hear that? Keep your yap shut.” You huff, the sound a loud exhale through your nose. His hand reaches under the bag and checks the knot on the gag. It’s caught some of your hair, and you wince as it pulls at it.

The rest of the car ride is relatively uneventful as you lay on the cracked leather seat, save for more maneuvers that leave you progressively closer to falling to the floor. You suspect they’d just let you lay there if that happened.

When they reach their destination, it’s with a sudden halt, the brakes screeching in protest. Your seemingly-inevitable destiny of faceplanting is prevented by a hand gripping your arm, although your one foot nearly makes it there. The men in the front seat waste no time in exiting the vehicle, and next thing you know, all three are dragging you out and forcing you to your feet. You don’t have time to even think to make any sounds of protest: they quickly shuffle you in a building, a hand on both of your upper arms, stopping for a minute for some undiscernable reason; you swear it’s with baited breath. Then you move forward some more, followed by a ding and the telltale sound and sway of an elevator car ascending, your head spinning and stomach flipping.

The men holding you hostage do remarkably little talking, only giving each other directions when strictly necessary. You think there’s a hierarchy, but they’ve given you nothing more that you can glean information from. Your mind is still too fuzzy to figure out why, exactly, you might be in this predicament, despite how long this elevator ride is.

The bell is barely done ringing out and the doors are hardly open before you’re on the move down some hall, where the squeaks of your shoes are the only things cutting through the air. The sound quality changes, hardwood and then carpet dampening everything, and they slow down. You’re forced to your knees with a grunt at the impact against the ground. The burlap sack is finally pulled from your head, fresher air filling your lungs at the same time that the light blinds you. You shut your eyes and instinctively move to shade them. Quite obviously, you can’t do such a thing with your wrists tied.

Eventually, you’re able to blink and squint as your vision adjusts. The first thing you spot once your eyes are open properly is the large mahogany desk adjacent to you; then the leather chairs you’re knelt between; then the rest of the office before you—bookshelves fit to bursting, a few plants, a cabinet with its secrets obscured from you, and the carpet under your feet that reaches under the desk. You try to turn your head to look more, but one of the men behind you knees you in the back, and you hiss in pain.

“Are you being rude to our guest?”

A new voice, much more pleasant than the men who kidnapped you, draws your attention to the source of all this light—the large windows behind the desk, and the man who stands in front of them, drowned out into shadow. He turns, and you can see his face for a moment before it’s gone again. “And you’ve gagged them, too?” He sighs. “Do take that off, will you? This is no way to treat a guest.”

With a huff that could be accompanied by an eye roll, the strip of cloth is untied, albeit none too gently. You open and close your mouth a few times to exercise your jaw.

“There we are.” You think the man smiles, then he faces the windows once more. “You may leave for now. Wait outside.”

You don’t turn to watch the men leave, although you do glance when the door clicks shut. The new man doesn’t speak immediately, which you are glad for, because there is something nagging you about this one’s voice, and it gives you time to figure out why it sounds so familiar. You test your bonds: no give. You’re not sure you want to see what happens if you try and stand.

“They didn’t hurt you too much, I hope?”

His voice startles you, and you hesitate in answering. Will he even give a damn about any injuries you sustained? “Well, I was knocked out…”

He huffs in frustration. “Those fools. That wasn’t necessary.” He draws closer, and you’re able to discern details about him easier: dressed in a business suit, a bit of facial hair, coiffed hair…only now do you spot the cane. This man’s identity is at the tip of your tongue; you’re sure it should be glaringly obvious, but your damn brain— “I’m sure you would have cooperated just fine.”

You consider it for a moment. You don’t think so; they were probably smart for rendering you unconscious first. They were lucky you woke up in time, though. “Perhaps.”

He smiles easily, the kind that is hard to distinguish between genuine and practiced. “Once you realized the stakes? Of course you would.”

A pang of panic mixes with your confusion. “I’m…I’m sorry, is there a reason I’m here, sir?”

The man leans against the desk, his lips twitching. “Yes, of course. We ought to get straight the point, shouldn’t we?” His eyes flick over you, sizing you up. “I am a busy man, after all. This city can’t run itself.”

City…the cane…his visage…his voice, one you can so easily envision coming through on the radio… You blanche. “Mayor Goodwin?”

Damien grins. “I’m surprised it took you this long, considering how astute you’ve been in the past.”

“A— A bump on the head will do that to you—” Your mind is reeling. “Wait, why—”

“I’m sure you have many questions,” the mayor says, “but I’m going to answer your first one: You are here because you are a rather persistent person, and you are quickly becoming a thorn in my side.” His tone gradually loses its jovality, his frustration bleeding through. “Originally, I was going to have those fellows outside pay you a visit and that be that, but you just keep poking your nose into places too close to home for me to let you slide.” He straightens up and pops his knuckles. You notice your heartbeat louder in your chest now.

Never in a million years did you suspect the mayor of all people to be involved. You figured some councilmembers, but the youngest mayor in the city’s history? The man known for his friendliness and very much not for his apparent involvement in crime? “So why bring me here, to you?” you say, more hoarse than you want. “Why not just rough me up like everyone else who goes too far?”

“Sometimes a personal message is more effective.” He’s directly before you in mere moments, despite his measured steps. You had heard and read the mayor was taller than most, even seen it from far away, but here on your knees, you feel absurdly small in comparison. You’re not sure how you feel about it. You push it out of your mind as he continues. “Violence isn’t always the solution, my dear.”

Your cheeks warm confusingly as he brings himself down to your level, squatting slowly. “Plus,” he says, tilting his head, “you are such an incredibly fascinating case.”

“I could go to the DA,” you blurt. “I could take this story to the papers.”

A laugh bursts from him. “The DA? My dear friend since college? My right hand?” He uses one chair to help him stand again. “And good luck trying to get a story to the papers without proper evidence…and my word against yours. Besides, wouldn’t you rather enjoy a long, healthy life?” Damien winks. “I think the decision is quite clear for you.”

Honestly, it really should be. But you’re nothing if not stubborn, just in your own way. “So, what, you let me go? And that’s it? I just keep my mouth shut and everything is fine?”

He nods. “Exactly.” He retreats to his desk, pausing to think. “Well, not entirely, but you don’t need to know the details.” Damien chuckles. “That’s for me to know and you to, probably, never find out.”

The unknowns cause your stomach to knot up. “I’m not going to be found dead in a ditch tomorrow, am I?” You realize once you ask that question that you should really act and sound more brave, but it’s too late now. You start to try and stand. “I won’t go missing into the bay—?”

“Stay.”

The sternness has you following what he says, returning to your kneeling position. You don’t understand what’s happening in your chest. “No. I’m a man of my word. No violence against you…for now.”

“Man of your word…yeah right,” you mutter to yourself. The mayor turns back to you, steel in his eyes.

“Do not doubt me. Did I not promise I’d protect the city?” He frowns. “I did not lie.” He returns to the large windows, outlined in light once more. “Don’t make me regret my decision.” Loud enough for the men outside the room to hear, he calls out, “Come in.”

The door opens posthaste, and the men seem to pile in, from what you can hear. “You may take them home now.”

Your blood runs cold at the idea of a man like this knowing where you live, but being pulled to your feet jostles it from your mind. They start to remove you from the room, but Damien interjects, “Oh, one more thing.”

You’re turned back to face him. He has that politician’s smile on his face again. “I suspect that, despite this, we will meet again one day. Hopefully it is for the right reasons.” Damien grins. It has a sharpness to it you can’t place. “Have a good day, —”

He ends the farewell with your full name. You don’t have time to process what that evokes before you’re out the door and the sack is over your head once more.

#wkm #wkm au #who killed markiplier #markiplier #wkm damien #wkm the mayor #x reader #only in technicality #also last name wasn't something i came up with; i have since adopted it from a pal bc i can't imagine him having any other lol #mafia au #markiplier egos #💙 #sab writes #*cant imagine him having any other at this point i mean #in which y/n is scared and very confused lol #damien

[talesofadragon]

“Whether in color or in monochrome, in words or emotions, art is a melodrama that lures you in, pulls you toward its undertow. Until there comes a time when you realize that all these stories were never quite this scintillating, they just were.”

A Steve Rogers fanfic coming to you soon! You can thank @crazyunsexycool for suggesting the best Stevie fic ideas! I’m so excited about this, I wrote 1600 words in one sitting, and it’s just the beginning. It’s gonna be a doozy this one. 🩵

#sab writes #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x y/n

[gojonanami]

thinking about gojo asking you if you think you would be together in your other lifetimes and you say yes. and you are — he’s a model and you’re his photographer, he’s a prince and you’re his knight, he’s your actor husband and you’re his singer wife, and he’s your target and you’re his assassin—

and you are together in every life — one way or another — but in this life, you part, as you watch him fall to Sukuna.

and you wait for the next life, where you can finally be together.

#sab speaks #jjk manga spoilers #jjk spoilers #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fanfiction #sab [future fics] #gojo x reader #satoru gojo fanfiction #I STILL THINK MY MAN IS COMING BACK BUT THIS IS FOR THE ANGST #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #thought of a title #‘maybe in another life’ #okay yeah I’m writing this

[loverliner]

drabbles

nothing yet <3

#sab writes

[ninacarstairss]

no i’m not okay inej told jesper he’s family too, he’s the first man who made her feel comfortable again after the menagerie, the only one she can touch and hug like a brother because she knows he’ll always be there to protect her, to love her like a sister, to shield her and understand her whenever this life they’re leading gets too harsh. jesper is family. he’s her brother too

#i am sobbing so hard #i can barely see what im writing okay #inej ghafa #amita suman #kit young #jesper fahey #shadow and bone #six of crows #grishaverse #sab netflix #shadow and bone netflix

[zaritarazi]

Watched all the helnik scenes in s2 i'll post more spoilery content later today but i'll say i wanted more but i do get that they're setting up for if they get the big one and the last scene of theirs that they shared this season... ugh. My children.

#sab spoilers #helnik #honestly having cal and dani in all the promo stuff has been so good for me. #also! excited to report this does not deter my fic writing. it only strengthens it

[starlightandmagic]

Me with Tolya the entire season: he’s my homeboy, my rotten soldier. He’s my sweet cheese, my good-time boy

Me with Tolya the moment he starts making eyes at Inej: you’re on thin fucking ice mister!

#shadow and bone #sab spoilers #I will murder the entire writing team if they disrespect kanej that way with a stupidly unnecessary love triangle #besides Tolya is aro/ace fight me about it #the absolute disrespect #kanej #inej ghafa #tolya yul bataar

[ggukiepie]

girl in luv (boy in luv pt. 6)

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: jungkook finally tells you what you've been wanting to hear for so long...but you're still not happy

tags: bil!couple, college!au, bff!jk, two idiots in love, angst (what's new), fluff, happy ending !!!, kissing hihi

wc: 3.5k

a/n: lmaoooo hi im sorry this took so long. i didn't like what i originally wrote so i scrapped the whole thing and well here it is! i hope u guys like it. this is the last part for the series. tho i do plan to post some drabbles here and there (like their first time together maybe) but no promises anw thats its bye happy reading !!!! series masterlist / main masterlist

~*~

Your phone suddenly buzzes—someone was calling you. Though, instead of answering it, you stuff your phone between your couch cushions to block out the noise. You don’t dare look at your screen, sure you’ll get tempted to answer the call—whoever that was. You haven’t got much social interaction these days, always choosing to go straight home after each class, eating by yourself, declining invites to parties and hangouts. It’s not like anyone’s forcing you to be this way. You did this to yourself, really. You’d rather be alone than hangout with people. You didn’t have the energy to do so. You just wanted to be in your bubble a little bit longer.

Deep down, you know you’re craving to talk to someone. Anyone. But somehow you always end up alone. With your thoughts.

Self-sabotage, if you will.

The thoughts don’t help either. Your mind always drifts to Jungkook. Sometimes you think about him and his girlfriend. Most of the time, you think of your friendship. You missed what you had, even though you had to guard your heart every time, even if you got your hopes up at the simplest of actions. You missed being with Jungkook because for the time you were with him, he felt like he was…yours? There was no doubt that you were his. Had been from the start but didn’t realize it till later on. Your heart always craved for him, yearned for him when he wasn’t with you. Your heart felt lighter when you were together, be it doing the most mundane of things or sharing a special moment.

If you could just toughen up and tell him how you feel. But it was easier said than done. He already indirectly rejected you when he got together with some girl. But why would he reject you if he never knew how you felt? Maybe you were too busy protecting your heart, protecting the friendship you might lose if you would’ve confessed. You never thought he’d feel the same, even though you had moments that felt like he did.

You shake your head to rid your thoughts. You try to focus on writing the essay in front of you. Your Friday nights felt different now—stuck doing homework while your friends were partying.

You’re finally two pages deep when you hear frantic knocking on your door. You check the time on your laptop and see it’s a little past one in the morning. You suddenly rush to open your door, scared that you’d get a noise complaint all of a sudden.

You stand frozen, mouth agape at the scene in front of you.

“Huh?” you dumbly say.

It’s your three closest friends in your doorway. Jimin and Taehyung are somewhat conscious—at least they’re standing upright. But you notice the sway in their stance and you can smell the alcohol off of them. But it’s Jungkook between them that makes you freeze. He’s passed out, you’re sure of it, and the only reason why he’s sort of standing up is because Jimin and Tae have his arms around their shoulders.

“Why are you guys here?” you finally say.

It’s Taehyung who speaks up, smiling that smile he has when he wants something to go his way. When he has a plan that you might say no to (which you usually do). “Jungkook,” he points at Jungkook, as if you’d confuse him with anyone else, “is drunk.”

“I can see that,” you deadpan.

“And!” Tae rushes to say, like you’re about five seconds from shutting the door in their faces. “He kept asking for you. So we are simply complying with his request.”

“Because we are great friends,” Jimin pipes in. Taehyung nods in confirmation.

“Me?” you whisper, as if Taehyung were referring to anyone else. Your mind isn’t any better than his drunk one at this point.

“Yes!” Jimin whisper shouts. “Now let us in, he’s kinda getting heavy.”

Jungkook makes an incoherent sound from where his head is leaning on Tae’s shoulder, drool making a wet patch on the poor guy’s shirt. You take pity on your best friend and step aside to let in all of them, even though your heart’s racing because Jungkook is in your apartment.

Holy shit.

You watch them bring his unconscious body to your couch (they actually drop Jungkook and giggle all the way to your door, saying their goodbyes without looking back).

You huff at the sight in front of you. Jungkook’s cheeks are flushed red and he’s a little bit sweaty. Though, he looks so peaceful sleeping on your couch. Was he really looking for you?

You get a glass of water and two aspirins, placing it on the coffee table near him. The moment you near him, you kneel by his head and wipe the stray hairs on his forehead. You look at Jungkook, like really look at him. His eyebrows are scrunched together like something’s troubling him in his dreams. His lips are in a slight pout, lip ring glistening under your light (when did he get that, anyway?), little puffs of air coming out his mouth.

“Am I…” he mumbles. Your heart races. His eyes are still closed, but his mouth continues to move. “Am I at ____’s?”

Your heart seizes at the sound of your name. You gulp and nod slowly, then realize that he can’t hear you. “Yeah…” you trail off. “You’re in my living room.”

“Oh,” your best friend says as his eyebrows scrunch up some more. “Missed you.”

You sit back on the floor and hug your knees to yourself, preparing for whatever it is that he might say next. A drunk man’s words are his sober thoughts, right?

“Jimin and Tae said you were looking for me?”

“Mhmm,” he mumbles. “Wanted to… tell you somethin’”

You shake your head. Though your heart yearned to know, you also do know it’s not the right time. Not when he’s drunk. He might just regret his words now the next morning, which might even hurt worse than what he’s about to say. “Save it for tomorrow, Kook.” You push yourself off the floor but he stops you by holding your wrist, albeit weakly.

“Nuh uh…” he whispers. “Need to know…now. Broke up with Jiwoo.” He opens his eyes slightly and looks at you right away.

“Jungkook—”

“Like,” he continues to say, “I did it for you.”

You feel your anger rising, your body heating everywhere. “I didn’t tell you to do anything,” you firmly say.

Jungkook moves to sit up and you take a step back. “No,” he shakes his head slowly. “Jus’ didn’t feel right.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes and you finally walk to your bedroom, slamming the door and locking it shut. You block out the sounds of Jungkook weakly calling out your name. Your fists clench in anger, the words Jungkook just uttered replaying in your head over and over. He couldn’t just dump his problems, turn around the narrative and make it seem like you made him break up with Jiwoo. That you asked him to end things with her because it didn’t feel right. And he forced himself into your home, your personal space—and drunk at that! He knew all your weak spots and used it to his advantage.

You hope he’d be gone in the morning. You don’t think your heart can hurt any more.

You hear pans clinking which promptly wakes you up. You weren’t able to sleep that much, actually, knowing Jungkook was right outside your room. You guess he stayed in the morning. He’s either cooking in your kitchen, or someone’s trying to steal your pans.

Rubbing your eyes as you open your bedroom door, you spot Jungkook by the stove with his back turned to you. He seems to be making scrambled eggs—which is the only thing he can make confidently.

“Morning,” you say. You might as well clear the air as early as now. You watch his back tense for a millisecond before he turns off the stove and sets the pan on your dining table. He turns to face you and brings a hand up to brush his hair back, a nervous tick of his that you noticed a few years back.

“Good morning,” he mumbles.

“So,” you start.

It’s so awkward you might cry again. When did things get this out of place? You start to rethink your feelings. You haven’t even confessed yet it feels like you’ve lost your best friend already. What if you confessed? What would happen then? You felt your heart closing just thinking about it now. Was your friendship really that fragile? You and Jungkook hardly fought but even if you did, you always made up right away.

“___,” he says. You look up, eyes meeting his instantly. “About last night… I’m sorry I suddenly barged into your place. I guess I really forced Tae and Jimin to bring me here.”

You nod and lean on the wall behind you, preparing for a long talk with him.

“I just really missed you, I guess—”

“Do you remember what you said last night?” you ask harshly, cutting him off so quick his shoulders tense.

Jungkook swallows nervously and nods his head. “Yeah and… I don’t know if there’s a better to say it, really. But we did break up, ____. She just wasn’t it for me.”

“And you said you did it for me,” you say, pushing him to just get to the point.

“Yes, because I realized that my heart never belonged to her. It belonged to you. Still does,” he says in a rush.

You eye him sharply, staring at his features and expression to make sure he’s completely telling the truth. You want to believe him, you really do, but why would he say that then be with someone else.

“It doesn’t make sense,” you finally say. “Why did you get together with her, then?”

“I don’t know—”

“You don’t know,” you repeat, and Jungkook’s eyes widen in panic. “You think you can come running to me right after a break up? Like I’m some second option? You don’t love her enough so you run to me instead?”

Jungkook opens and closes his mouth, mind thinking quickly to say something. His hands start to tremble and he brings a hand up to push back his hair. “I didn’t mean that,” he says hoarsely. “I didn’t realize it soon… And—” he stutters to catch his breath. “I was just scared—”

You’re fuming at this point. How could he do this to you? To just play with your feelings like that? “Get out.”

“____—"

“I mean it, Jungkook,” you shakily say. “You’ve hurt me enough. Just leave, please.”

He looks at you longingly, doe eyes watering before he nods and turns to the door in silence. You watch him put his shoes on before he leaves, not sparing you a glance. You don’t realize you’ve been tearing up as well, wiping the tears on your cheeks. Walking to the kitchen counter, you realize that Jungkook made chocolate chip pancakes. Your favorite.

It’s been a week since the incident with Jungkook and you haven’t talked to him since then. You also missed your weekly brunch with your friends, too afraid to face Jungkook. Thinking about it now, were you a little bit too harsh? Maybe. You thought you’d finally be happy upon hearing his confession but instead you pushed him away, shut him out. Because you’re scared. Terrified. Things were already going so well with Jungkook when you both were just best friends and you don’t think you can lose him forever should you actually get together and then break up.

Funny since it feels like you’ve lost him already.

It’s 8 am and you’re all alone in the student council office, trying to get some studying done as you were restless staying in your apartment. Staying there just reminds you of Jungkook, so you’ve been spending your mornings here before the other people arrive.

Suddenly, the door opens which is unusual. You usually have the place to yourself for at least another three hours. Curiously, you look up and find your best friend standing by the doorway, laptop and coffee in hand.

It’s silent for a moment, the both of you drinking each other in. Jungkook looks like he hasn’t gotten much sleep, eye bags dark and skin lackluster. You suppose you don’t look any better, knowing you barely got any sleep the past few days.

“Hi,” he finally says. You’re glad you have the long table separating the two of you. You don’t think your heart can handle being physically closer.

“Are you here for something?” you ask hesitantly.

“Can I…” He trails off, looking at the printer by the corner. You’d be laughing by now under normal circumstances. You nod instead, because it’s bizarre seeing Jungkook here asking if he can print something, which is something he liked to do back when your friendship was intact. The room is silent as you see him connect his laptop to the printer, both of you avoiding each other’s eyes. It’s too silent, actually, that it’s driving you a bit insane.

“How many pages?” you ask.

“Uhm… Fifty?” he says like he’s unsure.

“Fifty?” you repeat in a gasp. The printer is free, sure, but it’s ancient. Fifty pages will take too long and you don’t know if you can stand being in the room with him for half an hour or so.

Jungkook hands you the coffee he brought with him. “I bought you coffee as thanks.” He smiles ever so slightly and watches as you take a sip. Of course, it’s your usual order at the café down the street.

He looks at you expectantly but you’re too busy looking down at the coffee in your hands, too nervous to lock eyes with him. A few seconds later you hear him exhale and it’s just the sound of the printer in the room.

Your chest feels so tight all of a sudden like it’s ready to burst out of your ribcage any minute. It feels so heavy, so constricting that it’s starting to hurt physically. Is it really worth it harboring all this anger and pain? For conjuring up these theories in your head that will make you push him further away?

You shake your head to yourself and look up expecting to lock eyes with his, but his back is turned to you.

“Did you really mean what you said last week?” you blurt out.

Jungkook jumps in surprise and whips his body to face you, doe eyes wide. He looks surprised but he also looks relieved, and your heart breaks a little more seeing the relief cross his face the moment you talk to him.

He starts playing with the hem of his shirt absentmindedly. “I did,” he mumbles. “I mean every word I said, and I’m really sorry that everything had to turn out this way when I could’ve just been brave and confessed all those years ago.”

You nod your head at his words and process what he just said. Deep down you know you believe him, but it’s hard to keep that in mind when the hurt outweighs the truth. You look up at him with a sad smile on your face. “Why now, Kook? After all these years.”

He sighs and leans on the chair in front of him. You notice his shoulders deflate and his back hunch a little. He looks tired and you feel your own tiredness in your bones as well. “I was just scared. Us being friends was so comfortable and so good… I was just scared of things changing and me losing you.”

You bite your lip to stop yourself from crying. Looking to the side of the room to avoid his stare, you whisper, “And I know—” you choke on your words and clench your hands in frustration. “And I know I’m at fault as well—for assuming and pulling away once you got together with her. I had no right because we’re just…friends.”

It’s quiet save for the printer and his feet shuffling on the floor. You turn towards him to see Jungkook slowly walking to where you’re sat. Once he’s standing in front of you, he raises his hands towards your face but stops midway. Like he’s about to hold you but he’s hesitant.

You’re tilting your head to look up at him, eyes shiny with tears but lip turned upwards in a small smile. It’s ok, you mouth, because you don’t trust yourself to speak right now. You watch Jungkook hold your face in his hands, thumbs going behind your ears to rub at your skin slowly, fingers splayed on your cheeks to wipe your tears away.

He gathers your face in his hands, thumbs gently brushing the tears streaming down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers shakily. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so, so sorry.”

You nod your head absentmindedly, heart squeezing at the affectionate way he talks to you.

“I really am sorry,” he repeats. “I… Yeah, we’re just friends but I’d like to believe that we both just know. That you felt my love the same I’ve been feeling yours ever since. Even though we’re just friends. But…I know better now.”

You look at him confusingly and he looks away from you and smiles, his cheeks turning a light shade of red. You watch in silence as he plays with his lip piercing distractedly. Finally, he turns to you still with that smile on his face. His thumb starts playing with your lower lip but he’s looking at you with so much adoration in his eyes.

You’ve seen this look on him before, every time you’re with him, and now do you only realize that it’s a look full of love, desire, yearning.

“It’s scary if we do become something more and I end up losing you,” he starts, “but I’d rather live a life of at least knowing what it feels like to love you and be loved by you, than doing nothing at all.”

Tears are streaming down your face but you’re smiling so wide and Jungkook’s doing the same as well, with his nose even scrunching up and his dimples showing.

“I think it’s normal to feel scared,” you finally reply. “But I’d also rather live a life of us loving together than loving from afar.”

It’s silent for a moment as you and Jungkook stare at each other. He’s wiping off your tears which makes him cry a little more, so you wipe his tears next. You’re both crying now but with happy smiles on your faces and it prompts you both to laugh.

“We were kinda stupid, huh?” Jungkook says in between giggles.

You nod and giggle back. “A bit silly, yeah.”

“Can I kiss you?” he suddenly asks. Your heart starts racing and your palms get clammy. You start feeling nervous but it’s the good kind, finally getting to do something you’ve been anticipating, been waiting for ever since you realized your heart belonged to your best friend.

“Please,” you whisper.

Jungkook wastes no times in leaning forward, his grip on your cheeks tightening just a bit, pulling you upwards to meet his lips. Your lips finally touch and it steals your breath away. Quite literally.

Jungkook’s lips are soft, slots perfectly right in between yours. He kisses how he holds you—gentle and careful. Your heart skips a beat when you feel his tongue, and you grant his wish by opening your lips just slightly.

There are no fireworks or sparks or anything grand like that. Your heart suddenly feels calm and at ease. Like this is what you’re meant to do. It feels like coming home for the first time where everything feels right. You feel a great weight lift off your shoulders and you know you’ve made the right decision by choosing love.

Jungkook pulls back but only slightly so he can catch his breath. He keeps his forehead pressed against yours and when he speaks, you feel his lips move.

“I love you,” he whispers, and the way he looks at you with his eyes, like it holds so much love and adoration and it’s all for you. “Wish I said it sooner but I don’t want to think about that. Don’t want to live and continue on with regrets. I’m so happy to have you like this,” he whispers shakily. “So lucky to be able to love you like this.”

You kiss him again which causes him to smile so wide that his dimples pop out. “I love you too.” You giggle again. Saying it is so freeing and it feels so normal too. Not some grand epiphany or realization. Like you’ve known ever since. Like your heart has felt this way throughout your years of friendship with Jungkook and only now are you able to verbalize it. You know you’re lucky, too, to be able to have him in this way. But you don’t want to give too much credit to luck. You believe yours and Jungkook’s love were destined ever since.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook one shot #jungkook drabble #college jk #college jungkook #mine #writing #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts one shot #bts drabble #sab writes

[thebridgetonarnia]

The Weight We Carry aka the Steddie Titanic AU

Chapter 2 out now!

Steve returns a coat, the boys flirt a lot, and Steve and Robin have dinner with the Harringtons.

#steddie #steddie fics #titanic au #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #sab writes #the weight we carry

[desidarling123]

everybody moved on, i stayed here:

#kaz brekker #jesper fahey #sab netflix #burner using a tswift reference? #*gasp* #who is she #anyways yeah never over them actually #kazper #i will write for them one day i swear #if i loved them less i'd be able to write more

[unsaid-stardust]

Just Wish Me Luck

A/N: Hi friends!! this fic features heavy panic attack imagery!! take caution!!!

Lockwood couldn't breathe. He saw his face again. Winkman's. In a dream. He can't even escape the bastard in his fucking sleep--It wasn't fair.

He sat in his bed gasping for air, holding onto his chest as if that would ground him somehow. His vision swirled--no longer was it his bedroom, but a dark wonderland of mismatched colors and strange creatures. His throat was tight and his clothes felt even more so. He needed to get out.

He thrashed his covers off of his body, expecting some sort of relief, but it never came. He slid down to the floor, his back against the side of his bed, hands forcing themselves to stick to the floorboards. He tried to focus on the rough wood beneath them and his bare feet thinking it might pull him back to wherever the hell he was; It didn't.

Lockwood needed help. He knew that. But, if he couldn't help himself, what could someone else do?

He didn't care; that's how he knew it was a bad one. He needed someone.

George was an option, but he'd probably murder Lockwood for waking him up if whatever the hell was happening to Lockwood didn't kill him first. Lucy--while he didn't want to wake her up either, Lucy was the best option. He just needed to get to her.

Hesitantly, Lockwood stood up with a slight sway and began making his way to the attic. He's not sure how many times he loses his footing on the stairs, his vision still swirling together like melted ice cream, but eventually, he finds himself in Lucy's room where he immediately finds solace on the hardware floor, his back against the wall. His breathing doesn't slow down, chest heaving.

Lucy is fast asleep in her bed in front of him. He knows he needs to say anything, do something, wake her. He can't just sit here on the ground like a creep staring at her while she sleeps. He can't. But, he does. Because that's all he can do.

And thanks to some kind of miracle or whatever it was at work, Lucy woke up. She sprung up in her bed looking for someone or something to attack when her eyes landed on Lockwood. Immediately, she threw her covers off of her body and sprang out of her bed.

"Lockwood?" She questioned, her voice coded with heavy concern as she rushed over to him. He didn't say anything in reply. He couldn't, even if he tried. His arms were now resting on his knees, chest still heaving.

"Lockwood? Lockwood, what is it?" Lucy urgently inquired, placing a hand on his knee. All he could do was shake his head as a response. Lucy pursed her lips and wrapped her fingers around his. Normally Lockwood would only be able to focus on the electricity that shocked his system when she did this. But, his head was still swimming at that moment.

"Hey, you're ok. You're with me and George is right downstairs. We're not leaving you. You're safe," Lucy whispered softly as she gently put a hand on his arm, her other hand never leaving his. Lockwood nodded in response, his eyes trying to focus on Lucy's green-infused irises. Lucy gave his hand a squeeze and slowly his breathing started to even out. She squeezed his hand once more, seeming to connect the dots, and his breathing continued to slow down.

Finally, it felt like he could breathe for once in his life. He let out a sigh of relief and put his hands up on his neck just below his ears as exhaustion came over him. Lucy sighed with relief too, sitting down on the ground next to him, her shoulders touching his. Lockwood wasn't sure how long they sat like that. Her shoulders connected to his, fingers still 

intertwined, her head against the crook of his neck as his breathing went back to normal.

"Do you--want to talk about it?" Lucy whispered as she looked up at Lockwood. Lockwood felt frozen for a moment. He didn't want to keep going around in circles like this. It was only fair to Lucy, to him , to let her in. He swallowed back any hesitation.

"It was. It was a nightmare," Lockwood started softly. He grabbed Lucy's hand with both of his and started playing with her fingers to keep himself grounded as he spoke.

"Winkman was in it. I know-I know he's in prison now, but every time he's in my dreams it feels like I'm back there with him and I just can't-" Lockwood stopped for a moment, debating on whether or not Lucy should hear the next part. But, he meant it when he said "no more secrets". He doesn't want to keep locking himself away.

"Can't what?" Lucy asked. Lockwood took a deep breath.

"I just can't. Can't breathe, can't exist, can't sleep. Everything. When Winkman's there....I-I'm not," Lockwood finished. He didn't dare look into Lucy's eyes. If he did, he was pretty sure tears would swell from his own.

Lucy had other agendas though.

“Shh, hey, just look at me, yeah?” She whispered softly as she pressed a gentle finger on his chin, turning his head so that he faced her. He complied, but her finger didn't leave his chin.

“Winkman's not here, he can't hurt you anymore. He'll never hurt anyone-- ever again. "

 She paused, as though to take a breath, but instead her finger slipped away from his chin. He couldn't even mourn the loss, before her hand reached out to cup his cheek so tenderly that his shuddering breath hitched, 

"It's going to be okay, Lockwood. Maybe not right now. Maybe not for a long time, but it will be. You're here. You’re home. And you're not going anywhere." When he doesn't say anything, Lucy continued, her voice soft and warm.

"You do exist, Lockwood. There isn't a world in which you couldn't.” 

Suddenly, Lockwood felt warm. And his eyes were wet. Oh my god. They were wet. Was he—crying?

Fuck.

He was crying. He hated when he cried. Especially in front of other people–in front of Lucy . 

He tried to stand up then, wiping his eyes with his t-shirt sleeve. He wouldn’t let her see him cry, not like this. Not for the first time. Lucy placed her hands on his shoulders to push him back down. 

“Lockwood, hey, hey. It’s ok. Just-let it out. I promise I won’t tell anyone that I’ve seen Anthony Bloody Lockwood cry,” She joked. Lockwood rolled his eyes and managed a slight chuckle as he wiped his tears once more. He sat back down then and let Lucy lay her head on his shoulder. She rubbed circles on his back as his tears continued to flow, no sign of stopping. 

Feeling exhaustion take him over, Lockwood let his head lay on top of Lucy’s, the smell of her peach shampoo providing him comfort. He realized then that he was getting the top of her head wet from his tears. 

“Sorry. I’m getting your hair all wet,” He mumbled, removing his head to take a look at her. 

“Hey, don’t you dare apologize. I’m just….I’m really glad you told me all of this. It means a lot that you.. felt like you could share that." With me goes unsaid, but he can almost read the words in her gaze, which are filled with so much gratitude that his eyes swell once more. 

Lucy gives a sympathetic smile and lays her head back down on Lockwood’s shoulder. He returns to the same position he was in beforehand and takes a deep breath in. Somehow, someway, he knew he was gonna be ok. He was Anthony Bloody Lockwood. She was Lucy Carylyle. They were going to be ok. 

#lockwood & co. #lucy x lockwood #locklyle #locklyle fic #sab writes

[manebioniclegali]

You creep down the hallway, towards the living room that ends it, clutching the large kitchen knife in your hand. You know the spots where it creaks well enough, and so you are reasonably confident you can get to the door and sneak out without alerting whoever’s here. You’re not sure when he got it; all you remember is hearing him not that long ago rummaging around through your belongings, followed by him treading down the hall. All you know is that you have to get out of here.

Your heart threatens to escape your ribs the closer you get, all senses on high alert. You’re almost to the living room when you spot him out of the corner of your eye: a man dressed in dark clothes, coat down to his knees, short dark hair. His back is to you, at the opposite side of the room. He seems to be busy with something. Maybe you have a shot.

Your foot slips a little too close to one of those damned floorboards, and you freeze stock-still, blood running cold. The man in the trenchcoat doesn’t turn around. You breathe a silent sigh of relief and move forward again.

You take your eye off of him for half a second. That’s all it takes.

“Well. What have we here?”

You whip around, backing up and leveling your knife at him. “I’m not afraid of you!” The words fall from your mouth before you think about it. Really, it’s as if you’re reassuring yourself.

He chuckles lowly, taking you in and how your knife, to your chagrin, trembles minutely. You get goosebumps from the way he looks you over; even though you can’t see his eyes from behind his glasses, the rest of his expression makes it obvious. “Oh, sweetheart,” he seems to purr, “that’s not how you handle a knife.”

You’re not sure how he can do it so quickly, but suddenly the knife is loosed from your hand and you find yourself against the wall with the blade millimeters away from your neck. You swallow involuntarily, and the metal presses into your skin, chilling you.

“This is.” He grins. It reminds you of a shark. “Best not move. Unless you want me to mar that pretty neck of yours.” You swear his eyes light up at the idea. “Make it look even prettier.”

You don’t speak. You can’t speak. All you can do is stare up at this man and hope you aren’t blatantly broadcasting your fear. Fear that he’s surely feeding off of.

The knife shifts against you subtly, and you barely keep yourself from flinching. “Aw, don’t be like that.” The man leans in, just enough to make you feel more trapped. “Everything will be just fine.”

You doubt that, but he’s not the one with a knife to his throat. Of course everything will be fine for him. 

Will it actually end up fine for you?

#HUZZAH i've finally given this more of a conclusion so i can post it #i have something else i want to post but i didn't want duplicates quite yet #🔪 #murdock x reader #murderplier x reader #tw knife #threat of injury #this man is a bit twisted don't mind him #or do cuz he's got a knife to ur throat but yknow #drabble #sab writes #iswm #murderplier #Markiplier egos