but it took so long for me to regret that i have to put this shit in here

DOCTOR DREAMY | PT.1

pt1 | pt2 | (ongoing)

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst, eventual smut + expecting parents au

word count: 4,724

request: sperm donor ex-boyfriend jimin 

description: Okay, maybe in hindsight asking your ex-boyfriend, who you never really got over, to be your sperm-donor wasn’t the brightest of ideas.

cr.


“I want to have your baby,” is a particular string of words that is only considered acceptable in a certain number of situations.

Maybe between two lovers getting lost in the moment of their heightened feelings, and somehow the words just slip — that’s probably the most common occurrence of the phrase. Or maybe it’s a night out, alcohol in your system, and the words just sort of spill past your lips to the most ridiculously attractive stranger you’ve ever seen before you can even think to stop them. Even that, can still be considered at least borderline passable usage of the phrase. Hell, even the instance of a teenage girl proclaiming her love for her favorite celebrity with the heavy proclamation is still considered normal for the most part.

These, along with a few far-fetched others, were the only situations you could think of that allowed for the usage of those six words to be passable, yet, here you were, uttering that exact phrase, when you were in absolutely none of them. You weren’t getting caught up in the moment with lust-glazed eyes, you weren’t drunk and spewing nonsense at a bar to some guy, and you most certainly weren’t some star struck teenage girl staring up at her celebrity crush’s poster.

No, you were none of those things.

Instead, you were sitting across from your ex-boyfriend telling him that you wanted to have his baby… Yeah, totally passable usage of the phrase, right?

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“Growing Up a Winchester”  Sam/Dean x Sister Reader

Word Count: 3,867

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister Reader, some Castiel x Reader

Summary: While on a long road trip to a hunt, you reminisce about your memories growing up with your brothers, from the best ones, to the worst, to the most awkward.

Warnings: Mentions of death, language, angst, light smut between Cas and the reader

Flashbacks are in italics.

Originally posted by whoeveryoulovethemost

                                                            -

You’re sitting in the backseat of the impala, looking out the window at the scenery. Dean, of course, is driving, and Sam is sitting on the passenger side, sleeping. You have a hard time sleeping in the car, so on long car trips like this, you have a hard time. Thankfully, Dean is usually always awake as well, and serves as your entertainment.

Growing up as the youngest Winchester sibling was not always fun and games, especially being a teenage girl. As much as your brothers love you, they know absolutely nothing about teenage girls. You more often than not felt like you were raising yourself, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your brothers are your rock, and you would never leave them.

You can barely remember the first time you’d met Dean. Your dad, John, had gotten your mother pregnant and throughout the first four years of your life, he was very in and out of your life. He’d only show up at your house once a year, normally on your birthday. He’d call on holidays, but you were too young to hold a conversation. A little after your fourth birthday, your mother had passed away from cancer. You had nothing and no one else, and your dad John came to your rescue.

“Hey, kiddo.” John had told you, picking you up from the hospital. He looked tired, the bags underneath his eyes more prominent than you had ever seen them.

“Hi.” You say quietly. You didn’t really know what was going on. All you knew was that your mommy was in a better place and you were going to live with your dad. You remember being nervous, because to you, your dad was like a stranger. You knew nothing about him.

“Do you have your stuff? You’re comin’ to stay with me and your brother, Dean. Dean’s excited to meet you, you know.”

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vernon; the boy next door (m)

genre/warnings: fluff/romance/smut, flangst, adorkableness, use of non-penetrative sex toys, (not so) dry humping

word count:  14737

feat: Hansol Vernon Chwe/Original Female, Joshua, Jeonghan + various 

prompts: roommate!Vernon, silliness, cuddles, mac n’cheese = love 

(a/n) my birthday project for my muse. thank you for everything vern:) and kisses for @vernkn​ who gifed my soft sweater vernon aesthetic. enjoy!

She loved Joshua Hong.

When she was so graciously offered to live in her aunt’s vacation penthouse close to her university of choice, the only catch was that she had to pay some of the bills. Completely fair, because it was a kind enough gesture to give away a freshly furnished space to a niece you barely talked to. Luckily, there was enough room for another guest, enough to split the rent.

So in comes the savior of her life, brother from another mother, Joshua Hong, decked out in sandy beige Sperry’s and ironed white jeans. Fresh from South California, he wore their sunshine on his smile, and their attitude in his Cheshire eyes. He was attending the same university as well, and was conveniently looking for a means to stay. Needless to say, she pounced on him at orientation before he could ask anyone else.

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FACTS ABOUT CONNOR MURPHY (spoilers)

So I have decided to post all the facts and hints about Connor Murphy’s past that are shown in the musical. It’s hard to make out considering people in the fandom usually focus on the lies Evan tells to figure out Connor’s personality.

To get this conclusion (which I will post in a second) I literally skipped all scenes concerning Evan’s lies and went directly to the Murphy family and what they say. None of these facts/hints involve what Evan said about Connor.

First of all, I’ll say now that I have put my own interpretation on each of these facts.

And so, I will put all FACTS in BOLD.
Anything out of bold is my own interpretation and how I see it to be. It’s up to you to agree with me or disagree.

First, I will post my conclusions on each family member, and then afterwards, I will post the reasons for each one.

Zoe

Zoe was an emotional and verbal abuse victim. There is no evidence of physical abuse, although there were threats that could have potentially led to that. She has all the right to not grieve over Connor, in all honesty, she could have sent him to the police for what he did, but as an abuse victim, that is very hard to do. Connor was probably the cause of most of her insecurities and she hated him for that. The unhealthy habit of taking out his anger on the nearest person to him probably made him lash out at his sister whenever he had a panic attack. Judging by how he really did care enough to keep the creepy letter about his sister, written by Evan, in his pocket for 3 days before he committed suicide, it’s safe to say that he really regretted being mean to his sister and actually cared about her.

Connor’s mom, Cynthia

Connor’s mom was a woman obsessed with reputation. She’s known as the rich man’s wife, and wants more than anything to be a regular family. But because her son had mental illnesses, her perfect image was ruined. She acted as though she was there for him but when it came down to it, she did nothing. She pushed for therapy but after a while, her husband took him out of it because “it wasn’t worth the money,” and she basically went, “welp, I tried.” I will quote what I say later: Connor’s mom might not actually be sad that her son is gone, but rather, she’s ashamed that her family actually doesn’t care. It seems like Connor’s mom is filled with regret for not being there for her son, and she’s forcing her family to act like they regretted it too, because that’s what a real family should have been like. But this is only a personal theory.

Connor’s dad, Larry

Connor’s dad might be one of the main sources of his depression. It is very obvious to me that Connor’s dad believed him to be a disappointment. He didn’t grieve for his dead son and only played along to make his wife happy. He’s annoyed by the whole situation. It even seemed like he hated the fact that there was fake remnants of his son in Evan. Almost like he wished Connor wasn’t friends with Evan so he could just forget all about him and not need to deal with it. At some point he was a kind father. When they went to the orchard together for picnics, it seems like they were a happy family. Connor’s dad had played with their toy plane together and had some great memories. The whole family practically forgot about this, though. Connor’s dad didn’t cry at his own dead son’s funeral. I think that sums it up.

Connor Murphy

Connor was a complicated person. He had many different mental illnesses. I could research which ones he probably had, but there’s probably already a post somewhere on it already. One thing for sure, is that he was unstable. He might not have been like that his whole life, but at the time of knowing him, the time he was briefly alive in the show, he was incredibly unstable. Everything and anything could set him off, and he probably hated that about himself as well. Pushing away everyone near him that could possibly help and hating himself for doing so, spiraling himself into a closed minded world of self-hate and regret, which is something that many people can relate to, including me. He did a lot of horrible things to his sister and to his family. I don’t blame his family for not actually grieving him, he was a really bad person. The problem is, he could have been a good person as well. He had all the potential to get better. He talked to Evan, probably wishing to say sorry about pushing him earlier in the hall. He was trying, he wanted to try. He wanted to get better. He just gave up too soon.

This post is very long! I’m sorry. If you’d like to read more, I’m putting the reasons I’ve come to these conclusions under the cut.

Remember, ALL FACTS ARE IN BOLD. Anything else is my personal interpretation.

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Substituting with “anything” (a quartz and rosemary-inspired rant)

Apparently this is the month of me sticking my foot in places I’ll likely regret. But I feel like this really damages the learning process for a lot of witches and needs addressing. So today I’d like to talk about this thing being told to new witches way too often: that they can use “anything” as a substitution if they don’t have X ingredient for, say, a spell jar or whatever.

Can I just say, as someone whose practice focuses heavily on herbal work, how crazy that makes me?

I am not saying spells are set in stone and substitutions can’t be made. They totally can be.

I am not saying that this here fancy spell with all these fancy, expensive ingredients can’t have a more accessible re-working done with more common ingredients. It probably can.

I am all about making spells work for less money, less time, and less privileged people. You tell me what you’ve got in your kitchen and yard, and I will help you find a way to make that into any-damn-thing you please.

I am not all about the elite-extra-special “old way” or some dead guy’s mandates on how to witch.

But when I see, “just use quartz/rosemary instead” as the generic advice for EVERYTHING, no matter what the missing component in question is, it makes me crazy.

What’s the purpose of using ingredient-based spells? No, not just for the aesthetic™. It’s to reduce the energy load on you by replacing it with stuff that ALREADY HAS a given energy, or focus.

So if you remove it and just stick a generic energy booster in there, what’s going to happen?

One of two things:

1. The spell doesn’t work as intended, because you took off a wheel and put a rocket where it used to be.

2. The spell does work as intended, but I’m willing to bet you feel the exact same drain you would have felt if you’d just done energy work… because that’s probably what you did (and a lot of people don’t realize that isn’t supposed to happen).

So while I’m not saying that you’re wrong and your spell didn’t work regardless of whatever generic substitutions you made, I am going to say that if that’s true, I wonder if you’re wasting a lot of materials in your practice.

The purpose of spell ingredients is to use the properties of the ingredient in order to add a specific energy to the spell, which reduces the burden on you to supply that specific energy, and to have highly consistent focus while doing so. If your spell calls for valerian, then there is something about valerian itself that is aiding the spell. You can’t simply swap it with cayenne and expect to get the same results. There are definitely things you COULD swap it with because they have similar properties, but not absolutely anything.

If you can swap the valerian with literally anything and get the same results, that likely means you are not actually using the valerian to help you cast the spell. You’re simply using your own energy and the herbs are set dressing.

And there’s most certainly nothing wrong with being adept at pure energy work. That’s a great skill to have as a witch. But it sure is a waste of herbs if you’re not actually using them, eh? I mean, a lot of these herbs we use aren’t cheap or readily available.

Why not just get rid of the set dressing and save yourself time and money and just do energy work? Or if you like your set dressing, use tools meant to amplify energy work, like a wand or a staff or something?

Also, I think there’s a certain level of damage being done when we tell witches who are trying to learn herbal work that anything is just the same as anything else and none of it matters.

The magical uses of herbs are often tied to their mundane uses. Let’s remember: cunning craft was the mother of medicine. To this very day, the magical uses of many herbs are tied to their physical affects. Even when they aren’t, they’re often a sort of hypersigil, and they’ve gained those associations through dozens or even hundreds of years of thousands or millions of people all imbuing them with the same purpose and energy. Most correspondences have a biological reasoning behind them, or have been basically sigilized by being used the same way thousands of times.

Exceptions and personal correspondences are a thing; I have a few myself. But these tend to be herbs that have been highly significant in my own life over a long period of time, and have consequently become a sort of personal sigil, as opposed to the cultural sigil of most broader correspondences. My personal correspondences tend to be things I have history with (even if it’s mundane), not just literally anything. Basically, I’ve overridden the cultural sigilization, by writing over it with my own over time. But that’s an exception.

It makes it impossible to learn herbal work – which is a totally different skill from energy work – if you’re proposing that none of it actually matters and it all works the same anyway. And furthermore, it’s pretty discouraging if a witch tries that, and then their spell fails, which I see with some regularity.

Witches read that they can replace “anything” with quartz or rosemary, and then they come back and say their spell is doing all kinds of weird stuff it shouldn’t be doing.

Well, I’m not surprised. The original ingredient was there to give the spell a specific property, and then someone told them to replace it with a neutral energy booster and not do anything to replace the loss of that specific property, or control all the unprogrammed energy.

So, the result is going to be a high-powered bouncy ball of a spell that just pings around doing random shit and putting holes in the wall. Because they didn’t give it anything except energy with no focus. Because you can’t just replace “anything” with quartz or rosemary.

That tripped me up for a while, as someone who relies a lot on tools. I’m an empath, and like a lot of drain-prone people, I find using ingredients helps reduce how drained I get by casting spells. Becoming adept at herbal work was really important for me to be able to cast at all with any consistency. I can DO energy work, but I don’t always wanna wind up spending the next day in bed, and that’s where tools help me.

It’s not very helpful to just say “replace it with anything.” That’s not how herb magic works.

Substitution can be done in most cases. But if you’re gonna remove a wheel, you need to add a different one that’s compatible with the car, not just strap a rocket to the axle.

So, long story short: I really wish people would stop saying you can substitute with “anything.” While I get that the intention is to try to make the craft more accessible, it just impedes people from learning how to do it with stuff that’s ACTUALLY accessible. I mean, what’s inaccessible about the stuff most people have in their kitchen? You can substitute for a lot with that!

While it is completely true that you don’t need ingredients to do a spell, it is also true that if you’re going to use ingredients, they matter. If they didn’t matter there’d be no point to using them.

If you find that you can substitute with “anything” and get the same results no matter what, then I think I can save you some time and money: just get an energy working tool instead!

Kind and Goofy

I thank (and blame) @pixletta for this. This is based on a short story they gave me and I just- 

ENJOY

Au where your world is black and white until you kiss your soulmate


Jeremy had always thought of his life as simple. For years he only had to focus on three things: his music loving best friend, his obnoxious teenage bully and the love of his life - the main ingredients for a teenage boy. He had grown used to the black and white surroundings he had grown up in. However this all changed when he got the Squip. 

 The little computer in his head was adamant on him becoming more than his nerdy persona. He insulted him, manipulated him into getting what he wanted and soon Jeremy found himself rising above his ranks. He was talking to the popular kids, he was wearing more fashionable clothing and his once teenage bully was not practically his best friend. All he wanted now was her - his soulmate.

But apparently, that was too much to ask. 

 "What do you mean it might not be Christine?“ Jeremy questioned his Squip out loud in his bedroom where no one else could hear. His dad had gone out to get groceries (thankfully with pants) so the house was his for the time being. 

 "I’m saying,” the CPU stated, taking his physical form over to the end of the bed, “that soulmates are not the result of science, therefore I am unable to calculate who the particular human will be, given that there are roughly 7,500,000,000 people roaming the Earth at this given moment. It is very unlikely that your soulmate is Christine." 

 "But it has to be!” Jeremy interjected. “Soulmates have a bond, and I can feel that bond between us." 

 "You don’t even know her Jeremy.”

 "I don’t need to! When I close my eyes, I can picture us together, and we’re happy. Whenever I see her, I just want to kiss her and tell her how much I love her. I want her to tell me how much she needs me… I want to know that I’m her favourite person.“ Jeremy was soon lost in his own daydream and failed to notice that the Squip had suddenly taken interest. 

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Pen Pals - Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean wants to take the relationship to another level. Would the Reader want to take that risk or will she back out?

Word Count: 1.8kish

Warnings: AU, Fluff, Light Cursing

Author’s Note: Here is the second part of Pen Pals! If you want to catch up, read the first part here –> Part One. I hope you guys like this chapter. I’m sorry for not posting it fast enough. Life got in the way and I had to stop everything for a cool minute. I hope you enjoy this and feedback is always welcomed!!


Chapter Two: Long Distance Relationship

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House // Jeff Atkins

A/N: Long as hell. Sad as hell. Feat. Good Friend! Monty

Named after: ‘House M.D.’ good show


“Right now she’s in a medically induced coma. We’re tending to her head trauma…” the doctor tells him.

Jeff tunes out the rest of doctors explanation, unable to listen any longer. He wishes he was deaf so he couldn’t listen any longer.

You were here too, in the emergency room. You were the subject the doctor was going on about. In critical condition. You flew through the windshield during the crash and ended up way worse than Jeff.

He suffered a fair share of injuries from the accident. He fractured a few ribs, his legs were cut and bruised but overall okay, his wrist for sure was gone and there was no way he’d be able to play this season but he wasn’t thinking about that right now. The doctor said he was very lucky, but he felt far from it.

His nose was broken and the tears that fell from his eyes mixed with the blood dripping from his nostrils. He looked, like a character from a Tarantino movie to say the least.

“Can I see her?” He pleaded, voice cracking in those simple four words.

“I’m sorry Mr. Atkins, we can only let immediate family see her at this-”

“PLEASE” Jeff wailed. It was his fault you were even in this situation and now he couldn’t see you.

It’s his mom’s hand that fits into his, squeezing lightly both in solidarity and in trying to get him to let doctors tend to his more superficial wounds.

“Sir, you have four fractured ribs. You need to remain calm as you could puncture a lung. She should be stabilized by Tuesday, in which we would bring her out of the coma…and you can see her then. I’m sorry.” The Doctor said before turning on his heel and walking away.

The sound of the emergency room was deafening to Jeff’s ears. He wanted to leave. He couldn’t bare to look at your mother’s tear filled eyes through the glass. Couldn’t handle it when your father asked him if he was okay.

“Mijo, look at me.” His mother whispered softly to him.

And Jeff turned to greet the woman with whom he shared the same eyes.

“It’s not your fault”

Jeff broke down into his mother’s arms. He was bawling now, with no reservations about embarrassing himself. He wept into her shoulder, staining the fabric of her shirt with tears, blood, and snot.

When your mom left your side to go comfort the boy, all he could bring himself to say was “I’m sorry”. It fell from his lips over, and over, and over again as though they were the only words he knew.

She nodded, understanding his pain. She hugged him lightly, invited him to come back, whenever he wanted, told him once again that it wasn’t his fault, and returned to her daughter.


Monday, Jeff stayed home from school. He cried all day, refusing his mothers meals, refusing to get out of bed. He ignored his phone altogether. He didn’t want anything but to see you


On Tuesday, however, his mother insisted he go to school first, before seeing you. He nodded absentmindedly, getting into the passenger seat with no intention of retaining anything. He went through the motions that day, not so much as uttering a word. Not even to Clay, who waited at his side patiently. Not pressuring him to do or say anything.

When lunch came he didn’t bother to grab anything. He sat with the people he called his friends and barely smiled when Clay dropped off a milkshake in front of him.

“I picked it up on my way to school. I figured you would need it. Sorry,…it’s a bit warm now.” Clay empathized with the boy.

Jeff nodded graciously before pushing it away from him. Guilt wouldn’t describe what he felt he was going through. He might as well have killed you himself.

You told him you didn’t want him to go.
You pleaded with him to stay at the party with you.
He, was the one who talked you into coming with him.
He, was the one who kissed your neck until you said yes.
He, was the one who was playing with your seatbelt in an attempt to get you to lighten up.
He, was the one that drove straight into the intersection.
He, was the one that put you in a coma.

“Atkins, dude, relax. It’s not like you shot her.” A voice said.

When Jeff looked up at Bryce, he swore he was seeing red. He nearly leaped across the table to beat the shit out of the catcher of the baseball team.

He ignored the screams of the cheerleaders, the yells of his teammates and fellow athletes. He ignored the noise around him and focused on connecting his singular fist with Bryce’s face.

It was Montgomery who held him dragged him off of Bryce. Who basically, carried him kicking and screaming out of the cafeteria. Who shook his head at Mr.Porter as if to say ‘not now’.

“Jeez, Atkins you look like me out there” Monty offered as a joke. He laughed to himself, hoping to hear his teammates voice again.

He could tell Jeff was moments from crying and he had never seen his friend such a wreck…he didn’t want to. Jeff was the only person who checked on the victim of his latest brawl and then came to see how he was holding up. After scolding him of course. He was happy to return the favor in any way.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Monty suggested.

Jeff nodded in response while he paced his breathing.

“Alright great. You wait here. I’m going to grab your stuff. We’ll go anywhere you want.”

When Monty left, Jeff checked his phone.

Your parents had texted him, letting him know you were up and asking about him, inviting him to visit. Letting him know they’d be back in an hour. Your mother hadn’t eaten in the two days and your father pulled her away to a lunch.

He crumbled underneath the weight of his own sadness. His letterman slid against the lockers in the hall as he collapsed.

He cried there in the hallway, his sobs echoing off of the posters on the walls. The thud of his backpack falling of his side couldn’t interrupt his outburst.

“No, no, c'mon big guy. You know I can’t handle feelings” his right hand fretted.

He pulled Jeff up, throwing the boy’s backpack over his shoulder, wrapping an arm around the boy’s waist avoiding his sling.

“Don’t worry Captain, I got you.” He confided.

Montgomery, surprisingly of all people, was his crutch. The two boys made their way out of school and into the parking lot. Into Monty’s car where Jeff politely asked to go see you. On route to the hospital, you laid in.

When Jeff sobered up. Wiping away his tears, he realized they were there. He looked over at his teammate, his friend, eternally grateful.

“Monty-” he started.

“Don’t, Atkins. You’re there for me…always. I’m just returning the favor.” Monty stressed.

“…Also, I can’t go in there with you Cap. Hospitals freak me out. I’ll wait though.” He confided.

Jeff smiled for the first time in three days. He smiled, a brief, but genuine smile as he got out the car.


He walked into the sickly, sterile building slowly, decisively. Turning into the sign in office he looked around, wondering what the hell he could say to you to even make a dent in an apology.

“Can I help you, sir?” The receptionist questioned.

Jeff snapped out of his thoughts, nodding quickly.

“Yes, can I- is Y/N Y/L/N, taking visitors?” He stumbled over even the simplest of questions.

“Yes, she is, just sign-in here. Then I’ll buzz you in.”

Jeff scribbled an illegible mess and pulled at the door eager to see you. He looked back at the nurse and she met him with a sympathetic gaze before pushing the buttons that opened it for him.

“Room 361C!” She called out after him.

Jeff felt his legs go weak underneath him. He wasn’t ready to face his biggest regret. Betraying him, his two feet carried to the elevator. One foot in front of the other. Straight to your door.

His hand held at the door handle for what felt like forever. Just like his feet, his hand betrayed him. He opened the door, pushing through his pain.

You smiled at him weakly from your bed.

“Took you long enough” you whispered to him.

Jeff looked a wreck if you were honest with yourself. Your normally playful, overconfident boyfriend had bags under his bloodshot eyes. He looked paler compared to his usually tanned skin and you could’ve guessed that like your mother he hadn’t eaten in days.

Tears fell, once again, from Jeff’s eyes when he took you in. Laying in your bed. Tubes linked everywhere on your body, the monitor of your heartbeat drumming in his ears as if to mock him.

“I’m- I-” Jeff croaked out.

“Jeff…” you pleaded with him.

“I’m so sorry…It’s all my fault”

Every sentence, every apology he poured out, dripped with guilt. Jeff was rambling now, and his voice faded in and out.

You used what strength you could to outstretch your hand to him.

“Come here”

Your eyes closed and opened again, fighting to focus in on your boyfriend.

“Listen to me. It was not. your. fault.” You enunciated for emphasis.

You kept going as Jeff’s mouth opened to continue.

“My mom said a stop sign was knocked down, we didn’t stand a chance”

“I shouldn’t have-”

“I wouldn’t have let you-”

“Stop it! Stop. Please.”

You paused. Letting him take a moment.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I can never forgive myself for what happened and I don’t expect you to but-”

He stopped. Glancing away from you.

“I promise once you’re out of here. If you’ll have me…I’ll never, ever leave your side.”

Your eyes shut involuntarily as he poured his heart out to you.

“Or- or- you’ll never see me again. If that’s what you want.” He offered in exchange, panicking you were turning him down.

You shook your head to the latter statement and mumbled “Stay with me” as you went under once again.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Jeff is nodding and yelling out for the nurse thinking he was going to lose you.

The doctors pushed him out as they tended to you. He waited there in that hallway until they were done. Waited with your parents when they returned.

He was there when you woke up again, when you went home, when you went back to school. True to his word he stuck to you like glue, not letting you so much as lift a finger.

And you held onto the baseball player just as hard. You forgave him every time he offered up an unnecessary apology. Wiped his tears when he cried at the sight of your bruises.

The two of you were inseparable. Just like before that night.

It Was All My Fault (Peter Parker Imagine)

Prompt: You’re seriously injured by a villain, and Peter does the only thing he can think of; taking you to Stark. Tony Stark and Bruce Banner help nurse you back to health, but not without a bit of help from a blood transfusion.

Peter Parker x Reader, words: 1693, requested?: no (i actually requested this from someone else and also wanted to write it) warning: near death experience

Originally posted by spydoor-man

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Lost Track of Time

|| Pt. 1 || Pt. 2 || Pt. 3

Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: You were mad, but he was out of patience 

Word Count: 1526

Warning: eh, not really a warning…that is unless you hate the F-bomb and other kinds of curse words.

Originally posted by shishikookie

You were fuming. Here you were, dressed in a stunning gown that you knew he would love and holding a boxed Rolex that you were going to gift him. You had waited for him in the fancy 5-star restaurant where you had gotten a reservation, a reservation that took you at least eight months worth of pay to save up for. But here you were, back in your shared apartment at 1 am in the morning waiting for your boyfriend of two years to come home. Yes, he had stood you up.

You would have understood if he had called you or messaged you. Hell, you would have understood if he sent a freaking messenger pigeon to send you a letter telling you why he couldn’t make it. But guess what you didn’t receive? Any sort of indication from Jungkook on where he was or why he didn’t come. 

On the couch you fiddled around with your phone tossing it up and catching it over and over again, waiting for a phone call or text message from him. Instead of the blaring sound of your ringtone or a notification indicating a message, you heard something else: the opening of the front door. He was home. 

Jungkook crept in and quietly removed his shoes since he thought that you would be most likely to be asleep by now. That’s why he was so surprised to find you awake in the middle of the night sitting on the couch wearing a long gown. 

“Oh, jagi. I thought you were asleep.” You shook your head and scoffed in disbelief.

“Don’t tell me that you don’t know why I’m awake right now, Jeon Jungkook.” He shifted when he heard you refer to him by his full name. You never used his full name unless you were angry. 

If he wasn’t so tired he would have asked you what was wrong. If he wasn’t so tired he would be doing his aegyo to cheer you up. If he wasn’t so tired he wouldn’t be picking a fight with you. 

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How My Heart Reads Divide...

Decided to put all of my Ed Sheeran Divide feels/vibes/reviews in one post:

1)  Eraser is a song that left me openmouthed and a little emotionally confused. The lyrical sharpness was like glass and I felt like I kind of understood why Ed took a year off. It is white noise on edge anger simmering below the surface of a whiskey glass or behind a thin curtain of some other deadly vice that helps to numb the price of fame. It’s saying I’m fine but really rocking backwards and forwards within yourself on the floor in a mess of self doubt and regret and just…It’s raw honesty and pride and pretty lies that are more palatable than the harsh truths he delivers within the guise of a steely F64 stream of consciousness ‘what the hell am I doing’It’s heads in hands and excess and the reality of dreams that were born from records and roadtrips and wondering how on earth you ended up here. It’s a little jaded but it’s also a red flag, the moments in life when your brain is steadily inching towards danger but is perhaps able to prevent itself from falling at the last second. It’s realising that perfection is not attainable and that everyone has scars but it’s also about learning to dance with the skeletons in your closet and beating a path for yourself no matter what.

2) Castle On The Hill  sounds like its roots were tended by U2. It’s watching the sun rise from rooftops and rolling down hills. It’s playfights between couples where you laugh so hard you cry. It’s nostalgia and records and country lanes and cars and dancing in the rain. It’s holding hands and walking through villages where you know everyone by name.  It’s cups of tea, nicknames and muddy English football matches. It’s board games and Sunday roasts and long kisses, leaning against brick walls. It’s radiant smiles and having a song and banter between friends. It’s falling in love hard and wholly where everything is like a film reel from a 50′s movie. It’s feeling infinite and having mates and loves who are forever. 

3) Dive - I’m getting really big Stevie Wonder vibes. It’s bluesy with the hooked teeth of a guitar straight into your heart. It’s ragged desperate heartbreak and knowing you feel the stirrings of a person entering your inner world but being scared to jump over the cliff with them. It’s looking into their eyes after the beginnings of something that makes your heart race and saying “dammit I need to know you’re not going to break my heart.”

4) Shape Of You is all first dates and burning liquor and laughs in a crowded bar. It’s stumbling home through wet streets and slow dancing in the doorway. It’s hands in hair and running from a restaurant because you couldn’t pay. It’s watching the breaths of a lover in the dawn. It’s counting the freckles that adorn their stomach and back. It’s lingerie and home cooked meals and Netflix marathons and lazy Sundays when you realise you’ve fallen a little too far so all that you can do is keep falling hard.

5) Perfect is first dances and falling hard. It’s buying a ring because you look over one day and you think “If you walked away, my heart wouldn’t survive. I want to love you for every moment that I’m still alive (I’m writing this through a haze of emotion because this sums up every hope and dream I’ve ever had of the person who’ll love me despite all my hard stuff - wheelchair/anxiety/depression) This song is… true love. I’m going to go ahead and say that I think it’s true that that it’s better than Thinking Out Loud…)

6) Galway Girl is Irish af. I like to think of it as a flashback to the beginning of the Perfect ^^^ love story. It’s catchy and makes me want to do a jig. It reminds me of my parents and my aunties and cousins and uncles and sisters. It’s a clan song. It’s a chance meeting and having pieces fall into place from the very first day. 

7) Happier - AARGH. This is every feeling ever when the person you love even if only from afar seems happier with someone that isn’t you and you know you could do a better job but they might never look your way… I’ll be here, waiting always. 

8) New Man is a bit of 90′s R & B vibes. It’s a hip hop infused ode for what happens when the person who was a part of your heart comes running to you when a new relationship starts. It’s watching them change in front of your eyes for other guys (or girls) and it’s realising you don’t know who a person is anymore. It’s waves of history breaking upon a foreign shore. It’s losing maps to people you thought you knew like the back of your hand… It’s realising that they still want you in a way but it’s too late. 

9) Hearts Don’t Break Around Here is “Yes I’m in love and I want to shout from the rooftops.” It’s the little moments of a couple’s relationship. It’s realising that you’ll look to every day of growing old and the love story you get to live. All I can say is Jesus Christ Cherry, he loves you and it makes me so happy ❤️

10) What Do I Know is Ed’s way of saying Shit maybe they were right… that I saved 2017. He is bringing us all together, a crowd of colours and lives and lover types. No matter who you are, there’s a story on this album for you… It’s a carelessly casual man looking in, saying Fuck you, your walls will never keep us out. We’ll be screaming the words to this music, united and proud. 

11)  How Would You Feel is all butterflies and pure intoxicating love. It’s a girl wearing her boyfriend’s shirt and regular good morning texts. The soft secretive kisses in a car and casually intimate caresses. It’s meeting the family for the first time and imagining one of your own. It’s looking at a person off guard, saying “I love you” and feeling like that person’s your home.

12) Supermarket Flowers is about Ed’s maternal grandmother and it’s making me think of Nana who joined the angels three years ago and… 😭 I miss you so much. I hope you’d be proud of us x.

13) Barcelona is  dancing it out with people who share your heart. It’s Spanish carnival Latin vibes. It makes me think of  girls in deep red skirts and men with roses between their teeth. It’s music in your blood and floating away when you dance. It’s the magic moments of a party where you feel like moments could last forever. Who wants to meet me in Barcelona 😜

14) Bibia Be Ye Ye gives me immediate carnival vibes. It’s infused with the melodies of Africa so I can only assume this was his Ghana project. It’s nights of madness and vibrant colours and familiar strangers who dance on tables and offer you liquor. It’s the feeling I get every time I go to a concert or to a new country, the ideas of exploration and self discovery and stories that will make you ache with laughter years later as you look back on the Polaroids. 

15) Nancy Mulligan with its fiddles and it’s heart of true Irish blood makes me feel like I’m sitting at an impromptu gathering of musicians around my granny’s fire back home in Galway. It’s sepia photographs and wild cliffs and grandparents whose eyes shine with the fires of their youth as they tell you this story. It’s emerald hills and words in an ancient tongue. It’s a more modern Romeo & Juliet. It’s knowing that love transcends everything and you can have anything if you just have love.

 16) Save Yourself  has me gasping for air, my heart broken.
This song is all helping others only to have them treat you like you’re less than the dirt on their shoe. It has me thinking of savage wolves who want to tear you down but still expect you to smile. It’s despair and anxiety and depression with the quiet steady voice of strength that somehow by the tiniest of miracles keeps getting back up. It’s knowing you need to save yourself by loving all the broken parts of you but not really being sure how to do it.

OH MY GOD THIS RECORD IS SHEER BRILLIANCE. I hope you love my review (Sorry it’s so long!!!)

Little Do You Know: 2

Pairing: TJ Hammond x fem!Reader 

Story Summary: Soulmate AU. On your 21st birthday, you begin to hear the innermost thoughts of your soulmate. What will happen when your soulmate just so happens to be a drug addict struggling to recover? Did I mention that he may or may not be incredibly gay? 

Warnings: Language, fluff, angst, mentions of suicide, mentions of drugs, i think that’s it.

A/N:`I hope you all enjoy this part, though it is a bit of a slow burn. I’m pretty happy with how these first two parts have turned out, so if you guys like this, maybe I’ll work on a third part. (:


I have to go.”


As you moved out of his hold, one of the tears you’d been harboring slipping out, falling down your cheek as you turned towards the exit again. “Wait, please.. Don’t.” He pleaded, following you, gripping your hand to keep you from leaving when you got too close to the door.

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Broken Part One: http://imaginingbucky.tumblr.com/post/160710394889/broken-sign-on-the-dotted-line-and-everything

BROKEN PART TWO

Ten months later

The coffee shop that you normally went to every morning was closed for repairs. You had to go fifteen minutes out of your way to get your daily coffee fix.

It had been a regular morning. You woke up and made breakfast for the kids before sending them off to school. They only had a few weeks left before Christmas break. They were very excited about being out of school for the next three weeks.

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Don’t Let Me Get In The Way (Steve Rogers x reader)

Requests:  

1. BONNIE YAY!!!!! REQUEST TIME!!!! pls write about Steve starting to blow you off (missed events and important dates) because of Bucky & the events of civil war. My heart loves angst but please end happy if at all possible.  

2. Hi, can you please write a little fluffy fic where Steve asks the reader to marry him?

Whenever anyone would ask how it came to be that you were dating Captain America, you would tell them that you fell into his arms like it was a dream, and right when their eyes would gloss over in imagination of the romance in that statement, you’d crush it with a snicker at their gullibility.  It was definitely like a dream, alright; but more like a nightmare, being chased across your apartment by some disgusting alien as it shot at you, pushing you towards the window of your tenth floor home until you crawled out onto the ledge and prepared for your own end at the mercy of Park Avenue’s asphalt.  As if it were planned, or at least by miraculous intervention, Steve was fighting his own group of alien assailants, hearing you from above just in time to turn and catch you as you jumped.  

You literally fell into his life, and he loved telling the story as much as you hated to remember it.

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anonymous asked:

Hi! Can we get the RFA trying to comfort an MC who feels inadequate joining the RFA because everyone's so accomplished in there (either rich, a genius, or talented tbh) and she was just kind of thrown in because of Unknown? I'm sorry if that's oddly specific, but I just had that thought earlier and I love your scenarios/imagines. Thanks~!!!

i’m such a huge piece of shit for taking this long. i have over 60 requests. i suck ass. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry but like i have other stuff i need to do and inspiration just doesn’t come and it would turn out really shitty otherwise. oH, and thank you so much! and also, it was kind of easy to write this since i can kind of relate. i’ve been feeling like that lately.


Two days ago, the entire RFA attended an interview since the association started getting more and more attention with each passing day. Your actions not going unnoticed by the world, so it was only natural for the world to want to know more about all of you.

You were ecstatic about the interview.

They started with Jumin, CEO of C&R International, who was followed by Zen, renowned and incredibly talented actor, then Jaehee, (was/is) head assistant at C&R International and an incredibly hard working woman. After her, they started interviewing Yoosung, who was now an incredible student at one of the most prestigious universities in Korea and who had an extremely bright future. 

Seven decided not to take part in the interview for security reasons, but he was a genius and the brains behind the app and security of the organization. But everyone knew he was essential to the RFA. 

Finally, it was your turn to be interviewed. You had the possible answers for the interview well-rehearsed thanks to Zen. Everyone had done an amazing job which only made you strive for perfection.

How did you join the RFA?”

“What do you do for the organization?”

“Is it true that you took the last Coordinator’s place?”

“Do you think you’re living up to the last Coordinator’s prestigious reputation?”

You noticed that the questions started getting harsher and harsher, and it wasn’t until some technical difficulties with the lights and sound, that the interview came to an end.

You were sure Seven had something to do with it. 

Your friends and lover weren’t dumb, they noticed the anxiety that soon started suffocating you thanks to your body language. Zen was the first one to notice, so when the interviewer asked if they could continue the interview elsewhere, he intervened and told her in his ever-charming way that they were unable to stay any longer. 

It didn’t surprise you when the interviewer and the producers decided to call it a day.

You were finally home. Everyone was gone because they all had work to do and you conveniently had a day off.

Sitting on the couch, you started going over the interview and it suddenly hit you.

You weren’t worthy of being in the RFA.

There was a sudden tightness around your throat as the fact that the only reason you joined was because you had to. That the only reason you were part of this amazing organization was because you had been dumb enough to listen to a stranger and go deliver a phone that wasn’t even yours. The only thing you did was put yourself and the entire organization at risk.

You were not special.

You were nothing.

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Night Moves (Part 4)

Originally posted by out-in-the-open

Summary: The reader hooks up with a guy she meets at a bar one night after she gets to the town where her childhood friend Jess is getting married in a few days time, leading to some unintended consequences…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: au!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,900ish

Warnings: language, implied smut

A/N: This one was a fast write but tons of fun to come up with!…


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Fast Firsts and Sloppy Seconds  (a Manorian/Rowaelin AU)

NOTE: This is a piece very near and dear to my heart!! Welcome to my very first TOG fic, and second fic overall! This is kind of a celebration of hitting 100 followers, and kind of a celebration of ACOWAR, but first and foremost, this is a gift for my girl @highlady-casandra. You’re pretty cool, I guess and I love you so so much but you already knew that <3 but also I really hope you’re sleeping right now or we’ll have to fight  Second, it goes to to my fellow Revolutionaries,  @miladyaelin  @snaps7@jxmessjrjuspottcr @throneofstars @fictionalcharactersaremyreality, y’all are the true heroes ;) Third, for @propshophannah, my favorite SJM blog and one of my favorite writers for this fandom, who is a hero in her own right for a million reasons. Thanks for existing. Last but not least, this one’s this is for all of you guys reading it!! I hope you enjoy, and I hope I didn’t butcher them too bad! ( @meabhd You’re a queen and amazing artist and I hope I didn’t butcher your accent/country too much :/ ) Without further ado, here we go!


Dorian and Aelin burst into the small lively Irish pub. Well, “burst” was kind of a strong word, considering how bogged down they were by their huge backpacks. The two friends had decided to travel across Europe after their college graduation. It was supposed to be a group of them, but they’d lost Lys and Aedion back in Italy. Chaol was supposed to meet them in Dublin – but that was if they ever made it there. The huge storm had come out of nowhere, and their flight had been redirected. Aelin had insisted they try to catch a ferry to continue on to Dublin – but when the huge waves had almost flipped over the boat, she conceded, and they were dropped off on the beach in some other part of Ireland. Trudging up the long hill, they finally came to the bustling pub – the only awake part of the small sea town. Gasping for breath and dripping wet, they glanced around for an empty table in the crowded bar, and spotted a couple getting up in the corner. They quickly grabbed the table before anyone else had a chance, pulling the massive weights off of their backs and flopping into the hard wooden chairs.

They could feel the heat of the packed pub seeping into their bodies. Groups of people danced around, producing more and more warmth as they jumped and whirled to the tune of the lively reel. The band in the corner looked like they’d been playing for a while, empty beer bottles scattered around their feet as they played.

They took a few minutes to settle down – wringing the water out of their soaked shirts. Aelin was running a hand through her long blonde hair, trying to untangle the wet tresses, when Dorian shook his head at her like a dog, spraying water everywhere. It was at this moment that the waitress walked over, a hand on her hip and a smirk on her face as she watched Aelin smack him repeatedly.

She stopped quickly when she noticed the gorgeous girl. A tray was balanced against her hip, and she had a long, messy white braid over one shoulder, along with a wicked grin on her bright red lips. “Name’s Manon,” she drawled, her Irish accent washing over them. “What can I get you lot?”

Dorian cleared his throat, quickly running a hand through his hair in an effort to look presentable. He began to stumble over his words as his eyes ran over her lithe, muscular body. “I – uh – we – do you have any, um, menus?”

She snorted, raising an eyebrow at the boy. No – man. He was in his early twenties at least. Her eyes quickly flashed to his flexing muscles as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. He was broad, tall, and all around gorgeous. His bright blue eyes avoided hers as she watched him squirm under her golden gaze. “Aye, o’ course lad, would you like some gold rimmed plates, too? What d’you think this is? A palace, princeling?” She rolled her eyes, scowling at the gorgeous man. Why was it always the pretty ones that were like this?

“I’ll take a Guiness –”Aelin’s cool voice cut in, as Dorian struggled to regain his composure. “And some food. We’re both starving.”

“Aye, and soaked through the bone,” Manon mumbled, glancing at their wet clothes. She let out a deep sigh as she crossed her impossibly long legs. “I’ll see what the boys can dig up – kitchen’s supposed to close any minute now.”

The full weight of her golden gaze turned back to Dorian, a smirk on her face as she watched him startle under the attention. “Anything else I can get you, princeling?”

He cleared his throat and narrowed his stormy blue eyes as he forced a smirk on his face. “A double shot of whiskey, please.” He winked at her then, feeling the bravery re-enter his voice. “Need something to help warm me up.”

“Aye,” she smirked, “and some of that Irish courage will do you good, as well.”

With that, she turned, making her way back to the bar. He couldn’t help but stare at her enticing hips as they moved from side to side. Just like she’d wanted him to.

He was cute, this American boy. Kind of ridiculous, but cute.

Soon enough she was back with their drinks, shot Dorian some heated looks, and was off again. He wasn’t usually a one night stand kind of guy, in most situations. But for her? For her he’d make an exception. Miles of long legs were barely covered by a pair of ripped jean shorts. She had on a loose red t-shirt, further accenting her bright red lips. Yet, even in the simple outfit, she looked like a queen. His queen.

Aelin rolled her eyes watching Dorian eye-fuck the white-haired beauty. Aelin thought she was kind of a bitch, but Dorian never listened to her opinions on his conquests. He was usually more of a relationship guy, but she could tell that this time he just didn’t care. And she wasn’t drunk enough to put up with his shenanigans.

With a heavy sigh, she stood up from her seat to get another drink. Dorian barely paid her any attention as his eyes followed the waitress, watching her float from table to table, laughing heartily as she flirted with everyone, lighting up the room with her smile.


Aelin stepped up to the bar, the barkeep nowhere to be found. She eyed the empty seat in the corner and decided to take it right as she noticed someone else about to make a move. It’s not like Dorian was much better company. She ran a hand through her long blonde hair, still wet from the rain. She’d opted to keep her soaked sweatshirt on, wearing nothing but a small tank top underneath. But between the grossly wet fabric against her skin and the heat of the pub, she was leaning closer and closer to taking the damn thing off. Finally, she gave in, ripping off the soaking wet hoodie. And of course, this was the moment the barkeep chose to arrive.

Rowan Blackthorn couldn’t help but watch, shell-shocked, as the blonde beauty pulled the dark sweatshirt off of her curvy torso. As if the barely-there lace tank top wasn’t bad enough, it slowly slipped up her body as she struggled with the sweatshirt. And there, in that moment, he knew he was absolutely fucked. He cleared his throat as he stepped up across from her, averting his eyes.

“What can I get you, lass?” His voice was a soft sensual rumble, but she couldn’t really properly enjoy it in her struggle.

“Right now,” she grunted, “a hand would be nice.” He winced at the fact that he was completely and totally about to begin his descent into hell, and reached over to pull the girl’s sweatshirt off.

She was suddenly greeted by six feet and four inches of pure muscle. She wasn’t exactly short, but the bartender towered over her. His short white hair was cut close to his head. Gaelic tattoos trailed down half of his face and one of his arms,clearly showing off his heritage. His bright green eyes caught her gaze, and she found herself unable to look away. “Um, thanks,” she mumbled, reaching to grab the sweatshirt that he was holding out to her.

They stood there then, just like that, watching each other. He took in her wet blonde hair that fell just to her shoulders, and her tight light pink tank top. At least it wasn’t see-through. Then he would have definitely lost it.

“Y’know,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood, “normally I don’t let guys undress me until after I’ve learned their name.”

He snorted at that. “Is that all it takes with you, then?” Shit. He couldn’t stop himself. The words were already out, but he’d immediately regretted them. Well, that was that, he supposed.

She narrowed her eyes at the man. As pretty as he might be, she wouldn’t put up with any bullshit he was presenting her with. “Give me another Guiness,” she snapped. He raised an eyebrow before turning around to grab it without another word. He pulled the cap of the beer straight off with his hands, the asshole. The muscles in his arms tensed and relieved as he accomplished it, and Aelin just about died.

It was in this moment that Manon sauntered over, two plates in hand. “Are you goin’ back t’yer boyfriend there, or are you stayin’ over here?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she scowled, reaching out a hand for one of the two plates. “On a good day he’s my friend. Right now though, he’s my pain in the ass. So yeah, I’ll eat over here.” Manon smirked as Aelin finally accepted the Guiness Rowan had been holding out.

She walked away, an extra bounce in her step as she once again made her way to Dorian. Aelin rolled her eyes at the predatory smirk that was growing on her friend’s face. It looked like he’d found his footing fast enough. She turned back to her beer, and the asshole of a bartender.

He’d begun to clean a glass, obviously trying to look anywhere but at her. She scoffed, rolling her eyes, and turning her attention to her meal.

Rowan was a fucking idiot. Yeah, Rowan. Great idea. Get the gorgeous girl to like you by insulting her. That always works. Then again, he was sort of out of practice. And more than that, she was only here for, what, a day? Two maximum? He was willing to bet the storm had rolled her in, and she’d be leaving as soon as it was over. Slowly shaking his head, he sighed. Rowan didn’t have time for more attachments to beautiful women who were just going to leave. So maybe being an asshole was a good idea.

Except then he heard the moan slip out of her mouth. And every logical thought left his head as his entire body stiffened at the sound.

“God,” she sighed, “who the hell is your cook, and can I marry him?”

Rowan cleared his throat, straining to talk as her husky voice just played over and over in his head.

Shit.

He was in such deep, unending shit.

“We have two cooks,” he grumbled, trying to prevent his voice from cracking as he watched her lick her fingers, unable to look away.

His words ran away from him as he watched her dip her soda bread in the Irish Stew and take a large bite, letting out another long, low moan. “Please tell me whichever one made this stew is single.”

A low growl built in his throat, the sight much too sensual to bear. That moan. However good that stew was, it couldn’t taste nearly as delicious as he was sure she did. What he wouldn’t give to have her thighs around his head, how she would moan then –

He grit his teeth, shook his head, and forced himself to look away, discretely adjusting his pants as he once again tried and failed to regain his composure. At the sound of bickering voices coming up behind him, Rowan let out a small sigh of relief. Saved by the devils.

“Fenrys, Connal!” He called behind him, welcoming the distraction. And then he remembered what she was wearing. And that he’d been an asshole. And that she had wanted to marry one of the two idiots. And suddenly regretted everything. “You have an admirer,” he ground out. He hesitated, cautiously glancing at Aelin once again as she slowly enjoyed the bread, her eyes closed and a soft smile on her face. He began to smile as well, and then stopped, scowling instead. Remember. Lyria. With that thought in his head, he stormed down the walkway behind bar to go pour some other drinks.


Aelin opened her eyes at the sound of the barkeep stomping away. Her eyes were quickly drawn to the tightness of his pants against what she assumed was his equally tight ass. Dear god. She quickly looked away, chastising herself. She shouldn’t pine after what she knew she couldn’t have.  She didn’t even know his name.

It was then that she found the twins stepping up to her behind the bar. Both were well-built, with gorgeous dark eyes, and deep tans to their skin. They seemed older than the barkeep. The one on the left was easily the most beautiful man she’d seen in her life. He had long golden hair and a mischievous grin on his lips, easily accompanying his onyx eyes that held her favorite kind of sinful promises. The other was just as beautiful, though with long dark hair, and thoughtful dark eyes. He seemed calmer – more melancholy in a way. The dark to the other’s light. Though for some reason, neither could compare to the bartending buzzard.

She took a sip of her beer and grinned at the twins who were eyeing her just the same. The blond was unashamedly appreciating her figure under the tank top, offering her a wolfish grin, hinting that cooking wasn’t the only thing he was good at doing with his hands. Meanwhile the dark-haired twin simply stepped back, leaning against the bar and rolling his eyes at his brother’s behavior.

“Name’s Fenrys,” the blond purred, holding out a large hand for her to shake. She took it slowly, feeling the calluses in his palm as her eyes met the heat in his.

“Aelin.” She smiled coolly, dropping his hand and returning to the stew, feigning aloofness. She could eat politely when she wanted to. And now that the beautiful barkeep wasn’t around, she had no reason not to. She almost laughed thinking back to his attempts at discretely readjusting his pants. As though his lust for her wasn’t entirely obvious. I hope you hate every minute of it, she thought, glaring at his gorgeous broad back.

“So,” Fenrys drawled, dragging her attention back to him. “Is our dear cousin Rowan treating you well? Irish hospitality and all that?”

Rowan. Gorgeous name for a gorgeous man. Her eyes followed him as he poured out shots for a group of boys who looked just barely legal. Then she dragged them back to Fenrys, and lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug, her face entirely blank. “Well enough, I suppose.” She took another small bite of the stew, even though all she really wanted was to devour it.

“You know,” Fenrys murmured, his fingers lightly playing with the tips of hers, “I could certainly treat you very well, if you’d let me.”

She drew her hand away from his and placed it under her chin, raising a single eyebrow at his forwardness.

“Since I’m not a dog, I doubt you’ll be surprised to hear I don’t respond well to treats. Though since I’m not entirely certain you’re not a dog, unless you’d like me to rip off your balls so you can play fetch, I suggest you leave me alone.”

Connall barked out a laugh as Fenrys staggered back, an incredulous look on his face. A surprised laugh escaped his lips as he stepped away, reaching for the whiskey and mumbling to himself about crazy American women.

It was at this moment that Rowan walked back over, an aggravated look on his face. He should’ve been relieved that she’d probably already agreed to sleep with Fenrys, but for whatever reason, all he felt was a quiet stifling rage. His shoulder rammed into his cousin’s as he passed by him, stepping up next to Connall.

“Congratulations,” Connall grinned at her, “it’s not often a lass sends my brother off with his tail between his legs.” The two chuckled at the joke between them, Aelin finally smiling again as Rowan stood there, confused.

“What happened to your betrothed?” He bit out, defensive, not allowing himself to hope for what was too good to be true.

Aeliln’s smile turned sensual as her eyes once again roamed over his muscular frame. The heat in them almost burned him as they finally met his once again. “Turns out he wasn’t my type. Too easy.” A smirk spread on her lips as Rowan flinched. Connall chuckled again and began to walk away, clapping Rowan on the shoulder. “This one’s all yours, cousin. Good luck.” He winked at him and continued into the kitchen, finally ready to clean up for the night.

She took a few more bites of her stew, and Rowan went back to methodically cleaning his bar.

He wished he could say he’d forgotten she was there. But he hadn’t. Even with his back turned to her, he could feel her behind him, burning him with her gaze, and then it was almost as if her moans were ringing in his ears again. With a low groan, he wiped down the bar harder, angrily scrubbing.

A mischievous grin stretched across her lips, entirely aware of the affect she had on him. He’s going to sleep with me tonight, and he’s going to like it. And then we’ll see who’s the easy one. She ignored the small voice in her head that pointed out the fact that she would no doubt more than like it as well.

“So, Rowan,” she purred, placing both elbows on the bar and leaning her chin on her intertwined fingers, “tell me about yourself.”

Part 2

Friend

Nyrandrea here! So…I wrote a thing for @shinyzango’s Batim 2D AU. If you like the game and like cute, fluffy, inky stuff then please check it out!

Um. 

Enjoy!

XXXX

“Henry…”

The wooden hallway was dimly lit, the flickering lights weren’t helping at all. The walls were splattered with black ink. Why the Hell did he come to this place again?

“Henry!”

Oh yeah, because his ‘pal’ Joey had decided to write to him after what, thirty years? It was completely out of the blue and the guy wasn’t even here, that should have been his first warning sign to leave, but something just…made him go in. Was it curiosity? Stubbornness? He honestly couldn’t even tell anymore.


“HENRY!”


“Huh?” Henry blinked and looked down to the piece of paper he was holding.

“Ugh” The small animated cartoon crossed his arms and tapped his foot in an annoyed manner. “Were you even listening to me?”

The man smiled nervously. “Sorry Bendy…What were you saying?”
Bendy sighed and shook his head. “It’s fine. Never mind.” He gave the grizzled man a worried frown. “Are ya alright? You seem pretty…distracted.”

As he continued to walk down the seemingly endless hallway, he glances up to check for any danger, his grip tightening on the axe in his other hand while doing so, before looking back down to Bendy again. 

“I’m fine. Just…tired is all.”

The small cartoon looked even more worried now. “Well you oughta rest then! There’s an office nearby that should be pretty safe-“

“No. We have to press on.” He interrupted as he turned a corner, walking into a large room. “Those ink…monsters are probably still around, we need to keep moving” 

Bendy didn’t seem pleased with Henry’s response. “Hey, you may be all macho tough but even you’ve got yer limits. You gotta rest, Henry.”

Henry sighed. He was normally a patient man but right now he was on edge, every shadow and ink splatter looked as though it was about to pounce on him and he was not in the mood to bicker.

“I said I’m fine.”

“But-“

“Just drop it already!” He scowled down at the small demon, his hand gripping the paper slightly.

Bendy’s expression quickly went from worried, to shock and then to hurt. He looked down slightly.

“A-alright…” He said in a small voice.

The older man instantly regretted what he had done.

'Christ, Bendy’s only concerned for my welfare and I respond by being a complete dick.’ Henry thought to himself.

It was true, ever since he ‘met’ the small 2D drawing on the wall, the only thing he was concerned with was getting Henry through the workshop in the safest way that he could. Granted, it wasn’t entirely possible with the Searchers, the musician turned madman, Sammy and the other, more monstrous version Bendy in their way, but even then the demon protected him by absorbing the ink around him and emerging from the page as…well… as another monster, and it had scared the ever living crap out of Henry when he first saw the transformation, but now he was grateful for it.

Henry looked back down to Bendy, who was now sitting on the line that the man had drawn for him with his knees against his chest, looking a little sullen.
He sighed, he should apologize.

“Bendy, I-“

His eyes widened as he suddenly heard an unearthly screech, he quickly turned to look for the source when something wet slapped against his ankle and gripped hard. 


“SHIT!”


He went to swing his axe at whatever was on his ankle when it yanked forward, causing him to lose his balance and slam hard onto his back. 

“Argh!”

The back of Henry’s head hit the wooden floor with a sickening thud, making his vision go blurry. There was also a constant ringing in his ears, he couldn’t make sense of anything for a few seconds.

That was all the Searchers needed.

They were instantly on him like a pack of wolves, their bodies slithering around him as they started to form a large puddle around him. The strong stench of the ink was unbearable.

He weakly raised his axe to strike back at them, but a dripping black hand reached out from the puddle, wrapped itself around the handle and wrenched it away from him, sending it flying down the corridor.


This was it then. This was how he was going to die. 


Henry breathed heavily as the ink formed around his body, he could still faintly make out their gaping mouths and hands forming out of the puddle, like some sort of horrific black abomination.

Wait. Bendy. Where was he? Was he alright? The piece of paper must have slipped out of his hand when he fell. Henry turned his head as best as he could despite the weight that was forming around his body, but he couldn’t see it. Maybe the paper had floated to a safer distance.

God, he hoped so.

Black was forming around his field of vision. The pressure of the ink mass was making it harder for him to breathe. 

'End of the line.’ The man thought to himself, smirking slightly to himself. ‘What a way to go.’

He closed his eyes as the Searchers fully consumed his body.



The moving had stopped.

‘Am…Am I dead?’ Henry internally questioned to himself.

No, that was far too quick. Did something happen? What made them stop?

Henry got his answer as he felt something large wrap around him and pull him upwards.

His eyes widen as he gasps for air, his vision was still blurry, especially now since ink was dripping down his face, but he could still hear the Searchers screeching and a very low, deep growl.

He felt himself being lowered to the floor gently before hearing an onslaught of loud thuds, agonized cries and screeches, and lastly, a sickening splatter. 

As much as he wanted to get up and see what was going on, he was simply too weak. His head was throbbing, his lungs ached and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, his age wasn’t speeding up his recovery as much as he would have wanted, so he simply laid there as the noise died down.

For a few moments there was silence, the only sounds that filled the room was his deep breathing and the slithering of something coming towards him.
He felt a large hand prod at him and a low whine.

Henry lifts his head slightly and opens his eyes a crack, smiling weakly when he sees the hulking head and single eye of Bendy.

“Heh…you saved me again, buddy.”

The eye lights up and the monster’s large grin widens as he makes a noise of what seems to be a mix of happiness and relief. 

Henry smirks and tries to pick himself up, only for his arms to buckle under the weight, his smirk quickly changing into a grimace.

“Damn it…!” 

He grunted as he felt two large inky hands carefully wrap around him and set him up against a wall. Looking up into the concerned face of Bendy, he feels even more shitty about the way he spoke to the demon before the attack.

“Hey, don’t worry about me…I’ve survived worse.”

His voice had a hint of doubt but this seemed to satisfy Bendy nevertheless, as the hulking ink mass turned his back to him to watch the room.

Henry narrowed his eyes in confusion at first but it soon dawned on him, Bendy was guarding him.

He frowned. He was grateful for the concern but he knew that this form that Bendy took had it’s limits, he couldn’t stay like this for long without consequences.

“Bendy…” Henry started. “You should go back onto your page.”

The only response he got was a grunt. The demon wasn’t budging.
“Bendy…please…”

Nothing. 

“…I’m…I’m sorry about earlier…I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you…”

It was only slight, but Bendy tilted his head slightly towards him.

Taking a breath and looking down, Henry continued. “You’ve been… so damn dedicated to my safety and always put yourself at risk to save my sorry ass…and…you’re the only friend I’ve got down here. Yet I was still a complete jerk to you…and for that, I’m sorry. I…I really am.”

Bendy seemed to ponder this for a moment before fully turning to face the man, lowering his head to Henry’s level.

He blinked in a surprised manner when he felt a gentle, wet, inky bump on his forehead.

Did…did Bendy just nuzzle him?

The hulking demon raised himself back up to his full height, leaving a large black splotch on top of Henry’s face, and nodded.

All was forgiven.

Henry didn’t’ know what to say, so he simply nodded back in silent understanding. 

His aching body was starting to feel a tad bit better, but he was still too weak to stand, and Bendy knew this, so he resumed his guarding position, making Henry frown once more.

“Bendy…” He sighed. “Fine, if it makes you feel better. But only for five minutes, alright? Then you need to get back on the page.”

He didn’t get a response but he knew Bendy had heard him.

Sighing, Henry closed his eyes slightly and relaxed slightly for the first time in what seemed like days.

At least he knew he had a friend he could fully rely upon.

XXXX

Was that angsty enough for ya? Maybe I could turn this into a series of one-shots? Let me know what y'all think!

❀ Broken Hearts | 02

pairings/characters: pjm x reader x jjk

words:3k

genre: drama, angst, occasional smut and violence

trigger warnings: mentions of alcohol, language, violence

“best friends can break your heart too. Especially when they were never true to begin with.”

Originally posted by btsneeds


“Y/N?”

The alcohol had started to settle in your blood. Pulsing through your brain, your senses were clouded with this ecstasy that left you frustrated. You felt as if your eyes were tricking you, your surroundings melting into a blur but the warm touches of Jimins skin held you concrete to the reality.

Something that showed you a whole new world yet had now left you decapitated to see the one in front of you, your legs suddenly felt weak and it only became harder for you to stay upright with his gaze directed straight at you. You tried to grasp the small sliver of a sound that escaped his lips which were no doubt the utterance of your name, but loud of music of the club surely made it all the more worse.

But there’s no way you made a mistake. Standing before you was none other than Jeon Jungkook, and you could make it out by the small crinkle of his eyes, the tiny gash across his face, the twinkle in his eyes, and the ever prominent frown that had undeniably made its way to his face. You could see what seemed like a mixture of rage and disappointment bubbling within him, as he clutched on to the granite slab of the counter.

You straightened your body, which at this point was simply tangled onto Jimins, but not letting your grip on his arms loosen considering you were about to fall any minute. You blinked your eyes; once, twice.

Nothing, he was still there and he seemed to only get madder by the second (which took you a while to register) Slowly, but surely your surroundings came into view. Your eyes trying to readjust to the bright streaks of neon lights, as you focus on the person in front of you, amongst the hundreds of others present.

But he wasn’t alone.

Next to his tall stature stood someone else. Your sight lazily took in her features, taking time to process the bright red lipstick that burned her lips to a scarlet hue. Her dress was skintight, much like yours, but she definitely had a more model like body. With the long legs, and the perfectly kept skin, simply put she was perfect. From her pearly white smile to the way she stood so gracefully beside him, it reeked of perfection and made your own skin boil with bubbling anger.

Why the fuck is she next to him and not you?

“Wait… she’s the girl you got caught with?”

You blurted out without thinking twice, your tone inclined more towards an inquisitive question rather than a determined statement. Goddamnit if only you realized this earlier. She was the one who got him into this mess, this mess of a scandal, this mess that could potentially ruin his career and yet she was there, wrapped up in his arms like a valuable possession while he glared down you as if you had committed the worst crime ever. But you didn’t even get a chance to think up a response, Jimin steps in.

“Are you still going out with her?” His voice roared louder than the music playing over head, making you stop in your tracks as you were about to spew god knows what nonsense. He was brutally calm in a situation where you were practically shaking with rage, his eyes boring into what seemed to be Jungkooks soul, making him crack ever so slightly. But he still held his guard down, one look and it was evident that you were worrying about nothing, considering Jungkook couldn’t give two fucks about it and still choose to go out with the same girl.

“I don’t think you’re in any place to say anything hyung, you’re out with her.” He scoffs loud, barely even sparing you a glance. But your eyes never left him, you saw the way the girl let her finger trace the edge of his shirt. “If anything I don’t think you have any right to go out with her, you and I both know why.

“I’m sorry?” You raised your voice, simply put you didn’t know what you were doing. But you knew this much that whatever you do in life has nothing to do with what Jungkook wants you to do. You’ve had enough, or maybe it was just the alcohol talking. “Who are you to decide what’s right for me and what’s not?”

Shit if only you could knock off that laugh on his face. Were you simply a joke to him now? “Y/N- do you think that really matters right now. You shouldn’t be out here.”

“Why not? Is it because he’s someone you know?”

“Someone I know? I work with him.” He retorts, almost screaming as if he was taken aback by your response (which truth be told you were in no state to think about) His loud words send an incomprehensible sting of pain down your body, making your knees falter and leaving you crumbling in Jimins hold. The girl beside him flinches, taken aback by his sudden rough behavior. Her fingers not so discreetly tread up to the collar of his shirt, gently tugging at it, as she whispers into his ears.

Jimin taking liberty of this second, to pick you up and let you lean against a stool, as Jungkooks entire attention was diverted to what the girl has to say.

“Y/N.” he whispers softly, pushing back a few strands of your hair back when you notices how badly you were effected by this small brawl.

“You know each other Jimin?”

You see him nodding his head lightly, before turning your head just enough to see Jungkook whispering to the girl beside him. Almost as if trying to keep her calm in this situation.

“Jimin- do you really work with Jungkook?” You ask him. He nods his head in reply as he’s about to speak before Jungkooks pulls him by the collar. “Hyung I asked you to leave.” He says sharply. “We don’t need you to be having a scandal with her” He points out.

Never before in your life have you felt so degraded and ashamed to be yourself. Only with Jungkook. Only when he’s around do you feel insecure under his gaze. Only when he’s around do you have thoughts about changing yourself completely.You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard a chair clash against the floor. The sound rattling your ears almost literally. There were glasses scattered around the counter that had now fallen off and broken into a million pieces. Jimins body was heaving, his fists clenched as he bit his lips.

There was a sudden heat that emitted from his body. When your eyes followed his fists to what they hit, You were greeted by the sight of Jungkook against the floor in clear pain. The girl was immediately beside him as your hands instinctively reached forward to grasp on to Jimin.

“If she’s the same Y/N you talked about for hours to us. Then why are you suddenly acting like this?” His voice was louder than the music, but other than the bartenders, and a few sober people. Everyone was too engrossed to notice the fight between these two. “What happened to you?” He scoffed.

“If you’re done for tonight can we just leave?”

The girl speaks up getting attention of both the boys and you. She pulls Jungkook to his feet as he clenches his jaw, from pain or from irritation. The both of you stood back as you watched the girl and Jungkook walk out, your fingers that had an iron like grip on Jimins arms softened as he let loose his body. As if he had been holding on to his breath, a restless sigh escapes his beautiful lips. Still a bit tipsy, you struggle to even walk straight, as you hold on to him. “You’re ok right?” He asks, breaking the silence that had so comfortably found an abode between the two of you. “Yeah I’m fine, I’m just worried you hurt yourself.” You say in a soft voice, still unsure on how to react about this situation. As if he read your thoughts, He reassuringly put his hands across your flushed cheek. “It’s not your fault you know…” he says softly to which you are only able to nod with your head down.

How the hell did it all turn out like this? You hadn’t even talked to him for a few minutes and Jungkook was about to leave. Where did it go wrong?

“Y/N?” Jimin called out once more trying to get your attention back, but all you could see is flashes of Jungkooks disappointed gaze, as he blends into the crowd of mass people.

“Hey do you also want to get out of here?” He asks with a small smile, the tips of his fingers rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand, a gesture too intimate for someone who you thought would end up being just a one night stand.

But you couldn’t help yourself and smiled back to him, letting him pick you up. As he took your arms in his, holding on to it tightly, leading you ahead. You pushed past the rows of sweaty bodies into the cold night.

Only at this moment did you regret ever wearing this dress. Your body was shivering and it was visible, you never handled cold well. Huddling yourself together you tried to conserve as amuch heat as possible. As your mind gets busy with finding ways on how to keep warm. You completely loose track of the gaze that Jimin had towards you.

Sure you had met today, but in the tiny blur of time you’ve never felt safer. His smile was angelic and comforting, and it only made you want to get to know him better. Which is maybe why you didn’t want the night to end just yet, you wanted to know more about him, more about him and Jungkook. But more than that, you wanted to talk to him. The walk to the door, to the edge of his black sedan was just long enough to have your mind drifting on to the distance, which Jimin picked up in no time, chuckling to himself looking at your shivering state.


“Y/N, are you that cold?” He asks overwhelmed by your mere tactics of ‘survival’

“Well you do see me struggling don’t you?” You continue walking, trying to get indoors as soon as possible. But before you could take another step, you feel his larger hands grasp on to your wrist, pulling you closer to him.

“How about I help? It’ll calm you down after that… and it’d make the cold more bearable.” You only scoff as a reply. In the time he had spent talking, he had wrapped his arms around you. Entrapping you in his hold, as the both of you waddled down the street. It felt nice to have someone next to you, and there’s no way you were letting that go.

“You feel warm…”

“Is that a compliment?”

“A very sincere one” you pout, turning around to look at him.

“Wanna get dinner? I’m hungry” He asks, never taking his eyes off you. It felt as if he was trying to make you forget about the incident that happened which you were more than grateful for as you frantically shake your head and watch him smile with glee.

The next hour the both of you spend, walking around the town looking for quiet and cozy restaurants to waste the night away. Your tipsy nature didn’t help much, as you took off your stilettos within a couple of minutes and started running across the pavements.

But finding a quiet place to spend your evening on a weekend seemed practically impossible, considering every shop was either bustling with loud middle aged men or closed for the night. But there was one shop (which you found after ages), right round the corner with its warm rays of light barely making it out the door. The waxed wooden flooring adding to the home-like feel of the shop. It looked like a place that would be run by an elderly couple, which it was and surprisingly as every story has so accurately put it; it had amazing food.

The both of you spent hours, talking, laughing around at his stupid jokes, taking weird selfies and stuff you have no memory of doing. You remember at one point where you got awfully deep, talking about your life and the struggles of being a fashion student. Which he surprisingly didn’t get bored of, playing along with your tactics as the both of yours food came. He was the epitome of a sweet guy, as he let you do all the talking but made sure to not seem disinterested. (Like that one time he rambled about dressing up as a cow)

It felt nice to have the attention on you for once, but deep down, you missed the childish bickers and the stupid play fights you had with Jungkook. But Jimin tried his best to keep your mind off that, with his adorable smile and the sudden smirk that had your heart racing in a beat everytime he felt it was appropriate for a sexual joke.

You never had so much fun in your life, with someone other than Jungkook. If Jungkook was your other half, it felt as if you found a copy of him. (except a bit shorter) The same thought kept crossing your mind again and again as time went by, but you just pushed it back until the both of you were outside again. His hands, not quite touching yours. But just the feeling of his hands next to you felt nice.

You walked without sharing a word between the both of you, choosing to appreciate the view of the soft night sky dusted with pearls of starlight.

“Jimin?” You let your fingers tangle with his, after walking quite a bit of distance as the both of you are passing by a park. “Will you tell me whatever you know about Jungkook if I ask?”

“Do you want to know?”

“I think- but that doesn’t matter now.” Shaking your head, you let your eyes take in the beauty of his porcelain skin. Under the moonlight he seemed even more ethereal than ever. “You know you’re really very beautiful” you let your fingers trace the bangs that fell on his face making him blush from being too flustered.

“Is it supposed to be a compliment Jimin night?” He laughs, taking your hand in his and pulling you closer.

“No just me appreciating how amazing you look.”

“Well I haven’t even started about you princess.” He whispers beside your ears, letting his fingers trail down the back of your dress. “You made me go nuts the second I saw you enter the elevator”

“Lies” you snicker, turning away to hide your blush.

“How can you make me go so crazy?” He says softly. But before your mind could register anything, he’s leaning down against your skin, as you feel his feathery lips press up against you. The taste of alcohol was prominent, as you greedily searched for more. It was soft, and sweet.

And just like he silently promised, it made your skin tingle with this unreal warmth that made you feel as if it was a fairy tail weaved out of your very own dreams. His hands that rested on your waist, now held you in place, his fingers almost digging into your skin. There was an unmatched fluency between the both of your lips as he deepened the kiss just how you wanted it. There was no lie, you enjoyed it.

You enjoyed it a bit too much and you wanted more, The thought urging your body to take over your mind. Your hands slowly made its way up his body, one resting on the crook of his neck while the other against his well built chest.

But all good things must come to an end. And this kiss was definitely more than good. He pulled away to catch his breath, lips bruised and red from all the unconscious little nibbles. But you wouldn’t lie to yourself, his lips definitely looked better like this.

Your fingers moved across his lips, softly massaging the tattered and sensitive skin. “It looks worse than it would if Jungkook punched you.” You joke, earning a low chuckle from him.

“Why don’t we just go back to my apartment? Wine and movies?”

“Sounds amazing.” Tipping on your toes, you stand up to peck his lips once more, with a gleaming smile. The walk back could only be described as amazing. The both of you huddled close as he kept his arms around your waist, talking about him and his work. As you listened with a smile. He didn’t just talk about himself, inquisitive about you. He constantly asked you questions and you were more than happy to tell him more. He cracked horrible puns here and then, about your studies and how you’re a kid. But you still laughed every time.

He lived quite close to you. One of the most expensive in the neighborhood . He lead the way into the lounge as the late night guards bowed down as you walked in. He looked back into your eyes with a wide smile as he tugged your body into the elevator. Pushing you against the cold wall.

“I’ve tried so hard to hold myself back.” He whispered, his fingers pushing back stray strands of your hair.

“Well there’s no one now is there?” Placing your hand on his, you lean into his lips again.

It was probably just the alcohol talking, but if you could, you would’ve fucked him right here in the open; because suddenly there’s this new need that started bubbling up within you and there’s no way you could hold back.