jut bringing this back

Anything Can Happen In The Next Half Hour - Ten

The answer to when the next time would be came two weeks later. A case had taken the team out of the state for the best part of those two weeks and they were finally back at base finishing up the required paperwork.

Working together hadn’t seemed to be an issue, which surprised both Y/N and Spencer respectively. Although they’d both told each other and themselves that it was just sex, each of them had still thought that there would be awkwardness. Not even when Penelope had asked Y/N if she was planning on meeting up with chat room guy again in full earshot of Spencer, had things seemed weird. The only indication from him that he’d even clocked the conversation had been a light snicker on his part.

“I’m going to get a coffee, anyone want one?”

Almost everyone on the team called the their coffee orders and Y/N sighed. The coffee machine on their floor was out of order so she’d have to go downstairs to the tiny kitchen that was on the next floor. She hadn’t quite expected everyone to want a drink but now she was going to have to make two trips.

Spencer looked up from his file and pushed his chair back. “I’ll come with you.”

They collected everyones mugs and made the trips down the stairs to the next floor, it was quicker than waiting for the elevator going down. Reaching the small kitchen, Spencer closed the door and the pair began rinsing out the cups and assembling the drinks, waiting for the kettle to boil for the tea that JJ and Penelope had asked for.

The room was tiny and as Y/N and Reid moved around each to get the milk and creamer, and to find some trays to make the trip back upstairs easier, they found themselves brushing against each other. Y/N was searching for the tea bags she knew were in one of the cupboards, finally spotting them right on the top shelf. She reached up on her tip toes, her fingers brushing against the box but only succeeding in pushing it deeper into the recess of the cupboard.

“Reid…. ”

He looked up and saw she was struggling, placing the spoon he was using to scoop in sugar down, and moving to stand behind her, reaching up with his long body to grasp the box for her. As he did, his front pressed to her back and Y/N felt herself involuntarily pushing back against him, the curve of her butt knocking against his thighs.

She felt Spencer still, his hand wrapped around the box but not moving to bring it back down. Slowly she wriggled her hips, jutting her ass out and grinding slowly against him. Spencer’s other hand moved and repositioned itself on her body, gripping her hips at first and then meandering to her tummy, splaying his palm flat against her.

“What… What are you doing?” came his voice, his breath against her ear.

She smirked and moved her hips in a circular motion, Spencer’s breathing hitching.

“Nothing, I’m just making drinks.”

“Yeah sure you are. Two can play at this game you know.” With that comment Spencer lowered his hand to Y/N’s trousers, reaching between her thighs and pushing his hand upwards so that he was cupping her, his fingers pressing against her clit between the two layers of fabric.

Y/N placed her hands on the counter in front of her to steady herself as he slowly dragged his hand back and forth causing the fabric to rub against her in the most amazing way possible. She bit her lip hard to keep from making any noise, straightening her body upright so that she was flush to him, her head lolling against his neck as she continued to rock against his groin feeling him hard behind her.

“Spencer…. We should stop… ” her eyes had fluttered closed and she only semi meant the words, the friction of her underwear against her beneath his hand was turning her on ridiculous amounts and if it wasn’t for the fact that they were at their place of work, she knew she’d be naked in a matter of minutes.

“You started….. it.” Spencer’s hand had left it’s grip on the box of tea and was now holding onto the shelf in front of them. He pushed his index and his middle finger higher, circling her through the material.

“Oh fuck…..” she was going to have to sit in damp panties for the remainder of the shift.. This was not good at all, yet so so fucking good both at the same time. She reached behind her with her hand, slipping it between their bodies and palming him through his trousers, feeling him twitch and hearing a low groan as she ran her palm across his length.

Suddenly the door to the small space opened and they leapt apart, Spencer sidestepping Y/N quickly and hurriedly pulling the box of tea down, his front turned towards the counter in order to hide himself. She was at least pleased that her excitement wasn’t visible, pooling in her panties instead.

An intern poked their head into the small kitchen, seeing that it was already cramped with the two bodies that were in their currently.

“I’ll come back later,” they muttered before closing the door again.

Both red faced at almost being caught, Spencer and Y/N finished making the drinks, setting them onto two trays with some cookies that were provided for staff. Carefully they walked back down the corridor, not speaking until they were in the elevator alone.

“So…. Got any plans tonight?” Reid asked, staring straight at the lift doors in front of him.

“Nope… None. Was just gonna go home and have a nice long bath and then relax. You?”

“Pretty much the same.”

The lift started moving, slowly taking them up to the next floor. Spencer spoke again.

“That thing you sent me. You have one of those fancy corner baths right. They’re quite big, if I remember rightly?”

Y/N grinned, pleased that he was taking the initiative here as every other time online it had been her leading the conversation.

“I do indeed. Definitely big enough for two people,” her eyes flickered over to him as his did the same to her, their gazes meeting as the doors slid open.

“Nine pm?” Spencer asked softly.

“Bring wine.”

Effortless (M)

Warning: Smut

The cameras flash went off, momentarily washing out your vision in a sea of white. You shifted your position only slightly, tilting your head in such a way that a strand of your bangs fell forward over your face. That was as much as you dared to disturb the perfectly placed locks, not wanting to earn an exhasperated sigh from the man snapping pictures of you.

By now, you had the routine down so it was just automatic. Yoongi gave you no direction. He didn’t tell you to move this way or that, or gave you an idea of the mood he wanted you to portray. He simply snapped away, remaining completely silent until he was finished. The minutes ticked by, Yoongi sidestepping this way and that, crouching down and leaning every which way to get the perfect shot of you. You always tried your best to remain patient, obediently posing until he decided that he was finished. Yoongi was a perfectionist, and it could sometimes be an hour of him taking pictures until he was satisfied.

Today was worse, you had been sitting on that vanity for at least two hours. Your butt was long past the point of numb, your back pressed against the cool surface of the large mirror on the wall behind you. Yoongi had told you to strip down to nothing but your panties as soon as you stepped into the studio. You obliged esgerly and were happily surprised when he draped a white button-down of his over your shoulders.

Yoongi was now just inches away from you, the large lens of his DSLR camera staring you right in the face. Your eyes moved from his long fingers, following along his milky arms and finally settling on what you could see of his face. You moistened your lower lip with the tip of your tongue, causing another ‘click’ to sound from the device. You rolled your eyes, reaching out to snatch the camera out of Yoongi’s grip. It was a pleasant surprise that his fingers unfurled from the camera, willingly letting you take it from him. You placed it carefully next to you, ignoring the dumbfounded look that he gave to you.

“I think you have more than enough pictures, don’t you?” You murmured, extending both hands out to grab hold of the two that were now hanging limply at Yoongi’s sides.

He chuckled, the soft sound resonating off the walls in the silent room and seeming much louder, “No, actually.” As he spoke, he took the single step forward that allowed him to stand between your parted legs that were dangling over the edge of the vanity.

“You can take more pictures some other time,” You jutted out your lower lip in a small pout, looking up at him through your lashes, “I missed you.”

At that Yoongi smiled, it was a crooked twitch of one corner of his mouth. It was one of the most gorgeous things you’d ever seen. He ran his hands flat up the smooth skin of your thighs, settling them on your hips and giving an affectionate squeeze, “I missed you, too.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your mouth, beaming up at him with an almost childlike giddiness. It wasn’t often that Yoongi was very vocally affectionate–he mostly let his hands do the talking–but you liked to think that over the almost two years that you two had known each other, your personality had kind of rubbed off on him. At least a little bit.

Yoongi’s hands remained in the same spot on your hips, the pads of his thumb tracing circles absentmindedly into the fabric of your panties. He was just watching you, his eyes analyzing every angle and curve of your face. This was something that he did often, sometimes you thought that the pictures weren’t even necessary and that Yoongi had you permanently burned into his memory.

“What?” You asked, placing your hands over top of his and leading them further up your waist, and beneath the curve of your breasts. His fingers splayed out, the pads of each one burning a trail onto your bare skin.

“I like this look.” He muttered, his eyes moving from your face to scan down your body and back up as if to make a point.

You opened your mouth to respond, but any remark you had thought up was quickly lost the moment Yoongi gave one of your nipples a slight tweak between his thumb and forefinger. He continued to toy with the hardened bud, pulling a small gasp from you when he gave it a gentle flick with the tip of his thumb.

You slid your hands up his shoulders and into his hair, pushing his beanie off as you did so. His hair was tousled slightly, making it impossible for you to resist carding the short locks between your fingers. You weren’t completely sure if you pulled him down or if he brought his face closer to yours all on his own, but in what seemed like a second his lips were pressed against your own. Your fingers tightened in his hair, slightly tugging on the strands as you held him close to you. His lips worked against yours in perfect tandem, it was never sloppy or clumsy, it had always been like this. Effortless.

Yoongi moved his hands back down to your hips, his grip much more intense than a few moments ago, and he yanked you forward to bring your cloth covered core against his growing bulge. He began grinding his hips into yours, the fabric of his jeans harsh against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You weren’t paying attention to that though, all you cared about was how every single nerve in your body seemed to be buzzing with need for him.

You swiped your tongue against the seam of his lips, earning entrance into the warmth of his mouth almost instantly. He let you dominate the kiss, his tongue lazily massaging and licking against yours. Yoongi was focusing on bringing your hands down from his head by wrapping his long fingers around your wrist, and settling your hands on the waist of his pants. Your mind was moving faster than you were able to function, lost in a haze of desire and arousal. It took an insistent jut of his hips to bring you back to the present. You fumbled with his belt, torn between not wanting to pull away from the kiss and getting these godforsaken jeans off of him as quickly as possible.

Finally you got the zipper down, shoving his pants down to his ankles. Your eyes fell on the hardened member straining against the material of his briefs, causing a rush of heat to pool between your thighs. Yoongi was the one to break the kiss, catching your lower lip between his teeth and giving a light tug as he pulled his head back. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, his breath hitching in his throat when you dragged your palm flat over his clothed erection.

“Fuck,” he groaned, leaning forward again to nip and suck a trail along your jawline, “Wanna do something about that?”

“What did you have in mind?” You hummed, tilting your head to the side to give him access to your neck. Your fingernails were tracing along the elastic waistband of his underwear, scraping the skin lightly beneath the hem of his shirt. He didn’t give you the satisfaction of responding to your teasing remark, so you decided to act on your own. You slipped your hand into his briefs, brushing your fingertips lightly along the shaft before wrapping your fingers around him and giving a slight squeeze.

Yoongi made a sound low in the back of his throat, somewhere between a moan and a growl. He flattened his tongue against the skin of your neck, licking a stripe along the prominent vein before working a red mark into the skin. You were almost trembling with the need to feel him inside of you, but it wasn’t often that he let you get the upper hand like this and you wanted to milk it for all it was worth. You swiped the pad of your thumb over the slit of his cock, spreading the bead of precum over the swollen head. Yoongi rubbed his hands up and down your bare thighs, shallowly moving his hips to fuck into your closed fist.

“I want you,” His voice was muffled by your neck, his breath coming out in hot tufts that almost made you shiver.

You turned your head towards his, kissing the spot directly under his ear that you knew caused goosebumps to rise along his arms. You nuzzled along the shell of his ear and whispered, “Wanna do something about that?”

Yoongi pulled back once more and the look he gave you was not one you were unfamiliar with. He took hold of your wrist and pulled your hand out from his briefs–much to both of your dismay. His hair was tousled, the bangs almost entirely covering his eyes, but you still saw how they shimmered with need. He slipped his hands beneath your legs and hoisted you up, stepping backwards with you in his arms until he was able to lay you down on the surface of the vanity. His gaze trailed over your exposed torso, the buttondown having slipped off somewhere between the kiss and now.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as he hooked his thumbs into his underwear and pulled them down. His member sprung free of the confining material, curving towards his stomach. You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together, hoping to somehow ease even a little bit of the arousal that you felt soaking your panties. Almost as if he was reading your mind, Yoongi’s eyes fell to your core. He parted your legs easily, you let them fall open the moment you felt his fingertips against your skin.

“Judging by how wet you are, baby, I don’t think it would even be fair to tease you back.” He quirked a brow, a sly smirk forming on his lips.

You tried your best to glare at him, but then he began to idly pump his cock in his hand and your mind went blank. The only thing you cared about was having him fuck you hard enough that you’d be feeling it for days.

“Yoongi, I swear, if you don’t start fucking me in the next two seconds I am going to push you onto this dirty concrete floor and ride you until there isn’t one drop of come left in you. Do you underst–”

Your frustrated ranting was cut off by the feeling of Yoongi’s finger moving your panties to the side and his member pushing into you slowly. Your mouth fell open as your eyes slipped closed, tipping your head back to release a low moan at the slight stretch that you missed so much.

“Don’t make promises that you can’t keep, sweetheart.” Yoongi murmured, moving his hips back slowly until just the tip was inside you before snapping his hips hard enough to cause the vanity to screech against the floor as it shifted.

Your hands slid over any surface you could reach, nails digging into the varnished wood of the table and fingertips leaving smudged marks on the mirrors surface as you struggled to keep grounded with the ruthless pace Yoongi had set. He grabbed hold of both your wrists, bringing your hands to his mouth to place a kiss on each of your palms. You finally opened your eyes, he smiled down at you in response as he placed your hands on his neck. He slumped forward, letting his forhead rest against yours, the material of his shirt tickling your bare torso. He swirled his hips, the head of his member brushing against that spot in you that caused bursts of light to flash behind your eyes and you cried out. Your fingers curled into his hair, holding on for dear life as whimpers of his name and pleas for him to fuck you harder spilled from your lips in a jumbled mess. Yoongi obliged to each command, and the sound of skin slapping skin was almost entirely drowned out by sound of the mirror thudding against the wall in time with his thrusts. He slipped one hand between the two of you, using the pad of his middle finger to teasingly circle your clit. Your eyes rolled back in your head, a lewd moan slipping from your lips as you arched your back off of the table. This gave Yoongi the perfect opportunity to slip his free arm under you and pick you up, quickly moving to press you up against the wall without ever slipping out of you.

You made a noise of surprise from the cold of the wall against your back, but it was quickly forgotten when Yoongi began fucking you into the wall and rapidly circling your bundle of nerves. You struggled to squirm in the small space between his body and the wall, your legs squeezing around him tightly–either in an attempt to hold yourself up, or to try and slow his movements so you could try and collect yourself, you weren’t sure. Yoongi buried his face into the crook of your neck, grunting when a particular rub of his fingers caused your hips to buck.

“You like that baby girl?“ He asked, his voice just as out of breath as you felt. “Is this how you wanted me to fuck you?”

You moaned an affirmative response, moving your head from side to side as you felt your climax knotting tighter and tighter in the pit of your stomach. Judging by how Yoongi’s thrusts began to falter and how he was whispering how good you felt into your ear, you guessed that he was close as well. Your nails scratched against his shirt covered back, digging into the skin enough that you were sure he’d have bright red lines tainting his pale skin for days to come.

“Fuck, you know I like that,” Yoongi spoke into your neck, dragging the edge of his teeth against the skin.

You couldn’t respond, you didn’t have it in you. You tried–and failed–to grind your hips against him to let him know that any second now you were about to lose it. Luckily, he always had a knack for understanding you because he pulled his hand away from your bundle of nerves, getting a pathetic whine of disapproval from you. He gripped onto your thighs, his fingers pressed into your skin so firmly that you were sure his nails were leaving little crescent indents. He pulled away from your neck, driving his tongue into your mouth to wrestle with yours as he used his last bit of energy to move against you at an even more rapid pace.

It was seconds until you couldn’t hold on any longer, the coil in your stomach sprang free with a cry that was lost in Yoongi’s mouth. You gripped onto the fabric of his shirt, your eyes squeezing closed as your walls clenched around him. Yoongi deepened the kiss, his tongue flicking against yours as his hips jutted into yours and you weakly moaned when you felt his hot release inside you. He stilled for a moment, groaning against your lips before thrusting three, four, five more times to ride out his orgasm and yours. You just mewled at the overstimulation of your sensitive walls.

You moved your hands to cup his face, lightly sucking on his lower lip before pecking the very center of it. Yoongi was trembling with the effort of keeping you up, his muscles protesting. But he didn’t move, he just tried to steady his breathing as you brushed his damp bangs away from his sweat soaked forehead. His thumbs swiped back and forth, soothing the dents his nails had left in your skin that you hadn’t even really felt until now. You held each other close as you came down from your highs, kissing random spots on each others faces and exchanging tired smiles.

After a few moments, Yoongi moved his hips back just enough to pull out of you. You felt his release coating your panties and the inside of your thighs, but you didn’t have it in you to care. Yoongi didn’t let you down, he didn’t trust your legs to hold you up and you were glad for that because you were sure if he had tried, you would have just collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Yoongi carried you to the back of the studio, leading you into the spare room that acted as his dark room and on days when he was far too committed to–or obsessing over, as you thought of it–his work it acted as his bedroom. There was a plush loveseat pushed into the far corner. You were familiar with the piece of furniture. You and Yoongi had spent many nights together there, getting to know each other better one way or another.

You let your head fall to his shoulder, protesting weakly when he instructed you to get down and get onto the couch. Yoongi sighed, and although you couldn’t see it, you had no doubt that he was rolling his eyes as well. He tried to pry your legs from around your waist, but you weren’t budging. Finally, he opted for just plopping onto the loveseat and leaning against the back of it, a hand coming up to idly run up and down your bare back.

“You didn’t tell me what you thought of the pictures.” You mumbled after a few beats of comfortable silence.

Yoongi chuckled at that, it was light and tired sounding, “Didn’t I?”

You shook your head in response.

“Couldn’t you tell what I thought based on the fact that I didn’t want to stop taking pictures?” He asked, his fingertips brushing down your spine to the band of your panties, giving them a playful snap, “Or based on the effect they had on me?”

You laughed, slowly moving your hips in a circle, the lace of your covered core rubbing against Yoongi’s bare cock. He gave you a warning squeeze of the hips, but you didn’t miss how his length twitched against you.

“Don’t.” He grunted.

You pulled back from him, giving him an innocent smile when he stared at you as your change in position now had the head of his member poking against your folds. “I wouldn’t dare,”

Yoongi scoffed, using his hand to tip your head forward and placing a kiss to your lips before letting his fall back. You bit down on the inside of your lip, feeling the all too familiar fluttering in your stomach that happened anytime Yoongi did something like that. The smallest gesture of affection could turn you into a puddle of mush. He had an effect on you like no one ever had.

“I really did miss you,” You spoke softly, not daring to bring your voice above a whisper.

You waited for a response, your brows knotting in confusion when Yoongi remained silent. You leaned closer to him, studying his closed lids. It was the slow, even breathing that had given him away. The idiot had fallen asleep in five seconds flat. You huffed childishly, pushing the thoughts of how he looked so handsome and angelic away. You reached behind him, pulling a blanket down from the back of the couch. After shifting a bit, turning yourself over in his lap and snuggling into the firm expanse of his chest, you wrapped the blanket around the two of you and let sleep take you over.

You cursed yourself in your head for being so stupid. You had woken up and gotten dressed and kissed Yoongi goodbye with a promise of calling him. But your mind didn’t register to be certain that you had your phone with you when you left so that you would be able to call him. Now you were trudging up the metal, spiralled staircase to Yoongi’s studio, the heels of your boots accentuating each step with a small ‘ting’ sound. Before you even made it to the top, you knew the door would be open. Yoongi spent the majority of his time in that studio, and whenever he wasn’t there, he had a really bad habit of forgetting to lock the door.

When you first stepped into the studio, you thought to yourself that this was just another one of the times when Yoongi had gone out and forgotten to lock up. The blinds were drawn, and you had to flick the switch to bring the fluorescent lights blinking and buzzing to life. It didn’t take you more than a second to locate your phone, it sat exactly where you left it on a wooden sitting stool right by where the two of you were shooting yesterday. You unlocked the screen, your battery was dying and you had a couple of unread texts from Yoongi. He was asking you if you wanted to come by in a couple days and do another shoot. You decided to call him and tell him that there was no time like the present, considering the fact that you just happened to be standing in the middle of his studio. As well as the fact that he was just begging to be robbed by anyone who was lucky enough to stumble upon an empty and unlocked photography studio. You pushed the call button and brought the phone to your ear, it rang and rang and there was no answer. Typical of Yoongi. It was a miracle to hear back from him within a day of trying to contact him. You were about to hang up the phone when, as you were moving the device away from your ear, you heard a faint, muffled tune that you recognized as Yoongi’s ringtone.

You moved your phone further away from your ear, focusing on listening to the ringtone and locating where it was coming from. You thought to yourself that maybe Yoongi was just outside the door, about to enter the studio. When you took a few steps towards the entrance you found you were wrong, the music seemed more distant. The ringing had stopped and you didn’t bother calling again, the only other possibility was the darkroom at the back.

For a reason you couldn’t figure out, a sense of uneasiness washed over you as you took each step closer to the closed door of the dark room. You weren’t sure why, it was entirely possible that Yoongi had taken his phone out of his pocket and left it in the dark room before he left. You weren’t able to come to any reasonable conclusion because by the time you were just a bit more than halfway across the studio you began to hear a rhythmatic thumping.

You quickened your steps, feeling a lump form in your throat and swallowing it into your stomach. You practically fell head first into the door, stumbling with the effort to stop yourself as you turned the knob and pushed it open.

Yoongi cursed loudly, turning towards the door with an irritated scowl. The moment his eyes met yours, his face fell. You just stared at him, not missing the black tuft of hair of the woman who was hiding her face in his chest. You held onto the doorframe, feeling simultaneously like you were going to pass out and throw up.

“Y/N…” Yoongi said quietly, forgetting for a second to hold up the blanket that he had pulled over himself and whoever was under him. For a split second you got a glimpse of where the two were connected, her legs wound around his waist as yours had been less than twenty-four hours ago. Then your eyes fell on the raised pink lines that your nails had left on his back. At least you hoped and prayed that they were from your nails. Yoongi quickly realized and pulled the blanket up to cover the two of them again.

Too many thoughts were reeling through your mind at once, you felt dizzy and you wanted to sit down and you wanted Yoongi to come make you feel better and you wanted to go back in time and just get your phone and leave. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t change what you were looking at. You felt like someone had punched you as hard as they possibly could in the stomach

“Y/N, wait,” Yoongi’s voice was tight, you had no doubt that he was struggling with what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. You decided that whatever it was he wanted to say, you didn’t want to hear it. On unsteady legs that didn’t feel like your own, you stepped back from the doorway, pausing just for a second to watch Yoongi’s face before turning and rushing as quickly as you could out of the studio.

The cool, winter air hit you like a cement wall; wind biting at your cheeks, drying tears that you didn’t even realize were falling. You held onto the metal railing of the staircase so tightly that your knuckles were white, ignoring the biting cold of the steel against your bare palms. You tried to blink away the tears, but even for the fraction of a second that your eyes were closed, you swore you saw Yoongi’s face behind your lids. You saw him laughing, you saw his serious expression when he was working, almost like his face was sculpted from stone, you saw how his eyes shimmered when you told him how cute you thought he was.

You saw regret when he turned his head and saw you standing in that doorway.

Your thoughts had caused you to pause at the bottom of the stairway, one foot on the sidewalk and one foot still behind you on the first step. Two hands grabbed your waist from behind, causing you to jump and lurch forward out of their hold. You spun around quickly, your feet still working on making distance between you and whoever. Once you discovered it was none other than the man you were running from, your feet quickened their pace.

Yoongi took a step forward for every step you took away from him, he had a hand outstretched towards you as if he could will you to come closer to him. He was wearing sweatpants that hung low on his hips and Jordan’s that he hadn’t even bothered to lace up. His torso was bare and if this were even two hours ago you would have rushed to him to warm him up and get him out of the cold. Now, however, you were silently praying he’d catch pneumonia.

“Can you just give me a second?” He said finally, his voice hushed as if he was worried that anyone else might hear the conversation.

“A second to what?” You practically shouted, throwing your hands up in frustration. “To explain what I just saw? I don’t know what kind of woman you take me for, Yoongi, but I am not stupid. And I have two fucking eyes, and I’m a fucking adult, so I think I can tell when the man I love is fucking another woman!”

Yoongi dropped his hand at your remark, his expression changing entirely from one of desperation into a kind of sad confusion. “What did you just say?”

You stared daggers into his skin, anger boiling through you to the point where you no longer felt the cold. You didn’t want to play his games anymore. “I said I have two fuck–”

“You love me?”

The question was so innocent, the voice so meek, coming from someone who you knew constantly exuded confidence. It caught you off guard. You hadn’t even really noticed that you’d said it until he pointed it out. But now, hearing him say it back to you like that– like he could not believe it–caused a whole new wave of tears to spill from your eyes. You tilted your head up, focusing on unlit street lights and the roofs of buildings, anything you could to keep from looking at Yoongi. He stood there awkwardly, a hand rubbing over his arm in a weak attempt at warming himself up.

You decided to ask your own question instead of giving him the satisfaction of an answer, “Do you not love me?”

You looked back at him, eyes pink and swollen from the failed attempts at keeping the tears at bay. Just by the sheepish look on his face, you already had your answer. But still, you wanted to hear it from him.

“I don’t know.” He wiped a hand over his face, sliding it into his hair, “Fuck, I don’t know. I don’t think I do. I don’t want to.”

You could have crumbled to the floor right then and there, feeling the last, tiny shred of hopefulness that you had left being obliterated into nothing.

“I don’t know how to be good enough for you, Y/N…” He slowly closed the distance between you two, you didn’t bother moving away from him this time. “You make me happy, and I love being around you. We have fun and we work well together, but that’s it. I don’t see myself waking up to you every day and spending my life with you.”

Maybe it was your heartbroken expression. Maybe it was the tears. Or maybe it was just Yoongi’s trademark blunt honesty, but he added on as an afterthought, “But I don’t see that with anyone. And I know–I’m certain–that you’re too good for me.”

You don’t know what came over you, and truthfully it happened before you could even register what was going on and well before you could stop it. You raised your arm and slapped your hand against his cheek as hard as your strength would allow you. Yoongi didn’t flinch or curse, he stared at you and moved his jaw once or twice to soothe the stinging sensation.

“You absolute fucking moron.” You spoke in a voice so even that it surprised even you. “Don’t bullshit me with that ‘I can’t love you’ crap. You don’t want to love me. You want to be selfish, you want to fuck anyone and everyone with no consequences. You want to put yourself first and have no one else to worry about. You’re a prick, Min Yoongi. A dirty, selfish prick!”

It was now or never. Either you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving Yoongi with his mouth hanging open like a cartoon character. Or you let the tough façade die and fall into his arms and beg him to fall in love with you. You could feel your heart shattering beneath your breastbone. You wanted one last embrace, one last kiss. You didn’t want it to be over like this, you didn’t want to lose everything. In a whir, all of your memories together flashed through your mind. Meeting by a pond in the park where you were feeding ducks and having Yoongi ask if he could get a picture of you. Yoongi asking you if you would pose for him in his studio. Going to his gallery openings, hanging off his arm and smiling shyly when people complimented the two of you as a couple. The first time he kissed you. The first time you two made love.

Or, at least, what you thought at the time was making love…

Yoongi ran after you for a block or two, but gave up when he saw that you were not slowing down. You weren’t even looking back at him over your shoulder. You had to let Yoongi go. You loved him, it was a fiery, passionate love. An effortless love. But today you had to accept the fact that Yoongi did not, and would not, love you back.

The only bit of comfort you had, was that you knew he could never forget you entirely. After all, you were burned into his memory.

The Immortals- Part 27- The Deal

Hi, hello, bonjour :)

I am so sorry this took so long. I’m hoping to post part 28 tomorrow but I make no promises :(

I really hope you like it, don’t hesitate to let me know what you think! I’m thinking of stopping after the end of season 3 so around part 30.

Feedback is always appreciated ;)

Summary: Elijah and Julie have to go back to Mystic Falls to get Klaus back and stop Alaric.

Taking place in 3x22

Words: 1135

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26

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anonymous asked:

Okay hi I'm in love with your writing and you should totally do (or not fully your choice <3) of vagabond where they found a way to bring Ryan back and he's jut like holy shit my wife is hot when she's mad and yeah wooo

HOLY SHIT I HAVE AN IDEA. So like it’s a miracle how the crew hasn’t died yet so they haven’t found out they’re like immortal or like they can come back from the dead?? Like can I do that?? 

When you talk about guns you always hear a lot about the Second Amendment and the Founding Fathers, and what they would say if they were here. Well, I for one think that if the Founding Fathers were here today, they would be super freaked out by cars. You can talk to them all you want about the Second Amendment, and they would just yell, ‘What are all these metal beasts doing rolling down the thoroughfare?’ And you’d tell them, ‘Those are cars’. And then you’d try to talk to them about militias and they would scream, ‘How can you speak of militias when steel dragons fly through the sky?’ And you’d say, ‘Those are airplanes.’ But even if they could wrap their heads around that they would eventually ask, ‘Why are all the slaves out?’ And they would think that. You can groan all you want, but they would think that.

And yes, the Founding Fathers wanted you to have the right to bear arms, but the guys who wrote that would pee through all eight layers of their pants if they saw what guns are now. In 1787 shooting a bullet was slightly faster than throwing one. If you wanted to be bulletproof in 1787 you put on a heavy coat. So with that in mind, I’m all about Americans having guns as long as they’re the muskets from 1787 that take forever to load.

—  Seth Meyers, SNL Weekend Update, Season 36, Episode 12

Imagine Woozi getting shy and flustered when you start complimenting him and telling how proud you are of him.