of course she says this when i say any celebrity's name

Eric Richard Bittle is Jewish

Tw: mentions of antisemitism

Ok, hear me out. I know there is a lot of evidence pointing to Bitty being a good Southern Christian Gay and like, that is completely plausible and if that’s your jam, great! But because I love projecting and rubbing my Jew-y hands on everything, here is a theory about Bitty being an extremely assimilatory southern Jew who only really gets in touch with his culture and Jewish identity once he gets to college in the North East.

So I did some research and while “phelps” (Bitty’s maternal family name) isn’t the dead ringer that “Birkholtz” or “Zimmermann” is, it still has a history of being a Jewish surname in the Anglo-Saxon region. So to me, Bitty is Jewish on his mom’s side, but his paternal family is very southern Christian and so, really that’s what he grew up with, because being Jewish in the south? Well… that’s a whole thing.

My mom grew up in Atlanta Georgia, and in her high school, she was the only Jewish person by a long shot. My grandfather taught at Emory and so they didn’t belong to a temple, and went to Hillel sometimes during the bug holidays, but for he most part she wasn’t involved in religious affairs because it wasn’t “normal”.

I think something along the same lines happened to Bitty. His Moomah always made Jewish food for their family, but only made Southern food for company. At Chanukah, they would put up a Christmas tree, but put a Jewish star as an ornament and call it a “Chanukah bush.”

Bitty had a friend in second grade named Timmy who came over for a play date one day, only to never come back because his mom saw their mezuzah on the front door and forbid them from hanging out again. “Timmy doesn’t need to be influenced by that kind”

After that, well, Bitty stops asking his mama to make kasha varnishkas for his lunch (someone once told him it looked like he was eating pasta with dirt in it) and he stops going to temple on rosh hashana, and he starts calling his Christmas tree a Christmas tree. When someone tells him he “doesn’t look Jewish” he knows it’s a compliment.

The Monday at school after the Closet Incident, there’s a swastika keyed into his locker.

Because it’s one thing being the gay kid in a small town, it’s a whole other thing to be gay AND Jewish. It’s like he’s had two strikes against him since he was born.

When he moves to Madison he begs his mom not to put up a mezuzah. He can’t understand why she starts crying, but she doesn’t put it up. It’s a fresh start.

The rest of middle school and high school, Bitty secularizes.

When one of his teammates in his coed team tells him he’s acting “like a Jew” when he asks her for money for the team shirts, Bitty bites his tongue so hard he draws blood.

When all the kids in his tenth grade English class throw pennies at Mr. Bloom during his lecture on Eli Wiesel, Bitty stays after and helps pick them up.

Fast forward to freshman year at Samwell, and Bitty is hanging around the haus just before Rosh Hashana.

Holster is talking to Ransom and Jack about putting something together for dinner, maybe picking up some matzo ball soup mix and some ruggies from a deli near by.

Bitty, who shuddered at the though of soup coming out of a box blurted out without thinking “you know, I could whip up some of my grandmas matzo ball soup? And maybe some kugel?”

All three of the other boys look at him with wide eyes.

“I didn’t know you were Jewish Bittle,” Jack quirked a brow in intrigue.

“Well,” Bitty said, face heating up, “I- I’m not JEWISH Jewish. My mom is Jewish. My Moomah is Jewish, but ME? I don’t know.”

Everyone else seemed perplexed by this statement, but Holster’s eyes lowered a bit.

Bitty took that to mean ‘I hate you why would you say that you should just leave’ and promptly scrambled out the door, a whirlwind of “sorry got to go’s”

Later that week, someone knocked on Bitty’s dorm door, and that someone was Adam Jacob Birkholtz, certified Nice Jewish Boy and hulking mass.

“Uh, can we talk?” Holster asked a bit sheepishly.

Bitty agreed and lead them into his room.

Holster sat on his tiny bed and asked, “what did you mean before? When you said your mom and grandma are Jewish but not you?” It was tentative, but Bitty could tell the question wasn’t an accusation.

“Well I mean, I don’t really celebrate anything anymore. For all intents and purposes my house was a secular house all throughout middle school and high school.”

“But bitty,” holster sighed, “just because your half Jewish doesn’t mean you can’t be Jewish. And even if you aren’t practicing that doesn’t mean you can’t be Jewish either. I had a friend in high school that was half Jewish and people at temple would make him feel unwelcome. You don’t have to worry about that here.”

“Oh um, thanks? But it’s not that. Look, I know I’m Jewish. People have been making that clear to me for my whole life.”

“What do you mean?” Holster asked.

Bitty then began to regale all of the things he’s experienced. All of the prejudice, the slurs, the pennies, the swastikas. All of the pain that came with being the Jew in the south.

Holster listened, “Bits, that’s really rough dude. And like, I get it, some things are too painful. But it’s not like that at Samwell. Sure there are assholes everywhere, and it’s not like there’s never any antisemitism but, if you haven’t noticed based on the hockey team already, you aren’t alone here! There’s a whole Jewish community that’s got your back.

"Listen, why don’t you come to Hillel with me for Rosh Hashana, we can make your Moomas soup together! And maybe even Jack will help and not complain. Just, I don’t want you to have to feel like that about yourself.”

Bitty begins to decline the invitation but then something stops him. He remembers being a little kid, dipping apple slices in honey and chasing his mama around the house with sticky fingers.

“Alright I’ll go.”

And he does.
And he loves it.

He starts going to Hillel with Holster after that, and sometimes Jack tags along, sometimes so does Shitty. And in his Sophomore year, Nursey comes along with, and then his junior year comes Tango.

He makes matzo ball soup by the barrel, and re-learns the prayers for the Shabbat candles.

But it’s in his freshman year that he goes home for Winter break and pulls out the old Star of David ornament and puts it on the tree.

He asks his mom if he could help light the Chanukah candles and she looks shocked at first, but then she smiles and says “of course sweetheart.”

Later he hands her a present. It’s a long and thin box wrapped in silver paper with a little blue bow on top.

She takes it from his hand carefully, like its a shard of glass or something.

She opens it and It’s a silver mezuzah cover.

It’s a fresh start.

Something New

Originally posted by chokemejimin

i think i’m pretty proud of this one, and i hope you guys feel the same as well. i stayed up till 10 am writing this and now i can go to sleep in peace. Enjoy my lovely jimin stans, i feel for you poor bitches

Pairing: Jimin x reader
Genre: fluff, smut, angst( just a teeny tiny bit i guess)
Word count: 8,760

When your best friend of years confessed his love to you in a spur of the moment kind of thing, you had no idea how to react.

Those words that caused you to stare at him for almost a minute straight as your what felt like a million thoughts ran through your head. You were trying to process it. You two were laying in his bed, both on your sides and facing each other, talking quietly amongst yourselves.

His hand would raise every few minutes, tracing some part of your arm or pushing a strand of hair back. You would giggle a bit when his legs moved to tangle with yours, his toes intentionally seeking out your feet to tickle you, and you would smack his chest and tell him to stop.

Then you became quiet, and you thought that he was getting sleepy when he kept closing his eyes every few seconds. But there was something a bit off, his lips barely parting in what seemed as an attempt to say something, but then he would shut his mouth again and sigh softly. The smile that was on his face earlier was now gone, and a small furrow on his brow was beginning to grow. So you lifted your hand and cupped his cheek softly for him to open his eyes and look at you, and when he did, some of the worry in his eyes went away and he sent a small smile. It wasn’t completely genuine though, you’d know that.

“What is it?”

“What?” He feigned confusion, and you nearly chuckled at his attempt to hide whatever it was he was trying to say.

“You’re a shitty liar Jimin, I thought we’ve established that a long time ago.” You smacked his cheek softly and he chuckled this time. Then, again, his face became bare of that smile and he sighed, gulping nervously.

“I’m not gonna force it out of you if you don’t wanna talk about it right now,” you sent him a comforting smile. “But you know you don’t need to keep anything from me.”

It was quiet. Not a sound was heard in the room. And then he spoke.

“It’s just - God, it’s getting harder for me everyday,” his voice was strained, as if he were in pain. And what you didn’t know was that he actually was in pain, the worst kind actually. The one that you can’t really do anything about.

A frown took over your face as concern started to seep through your veins at seeing the guy you loved and cared for so dearly slowly revealing what was making him so upset. And, god , you felt terrible for not noticing it before. How could he hide something that’s been bothering him for a long time without you noticing, while he could find out what was upsetting you before you even did?

“Talk to me,” you urged. He suddenly sat up in bed, his back now to you, and you felt your heart break at the slump in his shoulders with his head now in his hands, clearly showing you that this seemed pretty serious. You sat up as well, your hand resting on his shoulder and squeezing softly to reassure him.

“I’m in love with you, __.”

It was so quiet in the room you could hear a pin drop, and you partly held your breath in fear of it being too loud. You were motionless, your hand frozen on his shoulder in pure shock. Then it hit you.

Park Jimin just confessed to you.

The guy you never thought of as more than the closest of friend, who’d been there with you for years. He was with you through it all, the ups and downs. God, you had many, many downs, but he never showed the slightest hint of being tired with you and your shit.

He was there for you when you had your first high school heartbreak. After your crush had shown interest in your and slowly started getting closer to you, he finally dropped the bomb and asked you out. You were thrilled, fucking ecstatic. But after one date, and one date only, a few days later, you managed to find out that he had only done it as a bet. You ran to Jimin, holding back sobs of sadness and anger and frustration all mixed in one, spilling everything in a matter of seconds. He was seething with anger, but he put that anger aside for the time being to hold you in his arms and whisper soothing words in your ear, squeezing you so tightly onto his chest all the while holding you gently as if you were the frailest of beings.

He was there when your parents were against you wanting to study a different major in college than the one they wanted for you. You had a huge fight with them and ran out of the house, quickly texting Jimin to meet you in your usual spot at the park, and he was there before you were. He let your rant away in anger, frustrated tears running down your cheeks at your parents’ way of thinking. When you were done talking, he wiped away your tears and cupped your cheeks. We’ll figure it out, he said to you, before he brought your face closer to press a kiss to your forehead and hugged you for an hour straight, right there in the middle of the park.

And then when one of your girlfriends who you’d been friends with for years, her name was Jess, turned out to be the definition of the word backstabber. You didn’t find out until you saw a conversation on her phone between her and a guy you’d mentioned to her before, who you thought you liked. Despite the obvious flirting that you might’ve let slide without too big of a problem, it was filled with demeaning lies she was telling him about you, some about you being a whore who slept with anything with two legs, some about you cheating on your ex-boyfriends, some about you being a mean bitch. And, as usual, you went to Jimin, and he was there with open arms and a shoulder waiting for you to use.

He was there when you got your first job because college payments were starting to weigh down on you. It was only a simple, part-time job but you were still thrilled with it, happy to be making your own pay, even if it was only minimum for the time being. You called him immediately, squealing over the phone that you got the job, and he chuckled softly before congratulating you. “I’ll take you out tonight to celebrate then.”

The list went on and on and it would never stop if you had to list off every single thing you two had been through together. But at the moment, you had no idea what to do, what to say, what to feel. You felt the pressure slowly weighing down on your heart because you truly didn’t know how to handle this. However, you couldn’t say it back, not now, not so carelessly when you knew you were even 50% sure it was true. You loved him too much to be so unfair to him and lie to him that way.

“I..” Your voice trailed off, and you winced at even opening your stupid mouth before you put together a decent sentence in your frazzled mind.

He turned to you anyways, a small smile on his lips, and it was so sad you literally felt as if your heart was being wrenched and squeezed to cause you pain. He lifted his hand and grabbed yours that was on his shoulder, enveloping it in both of his. He looked down at your joined hands for a few seconds, and you did so as well, feeling some of the pain you felt just seconds ago decrease at the comfort this simple act brought, and then he looked up at you again.

“It’s fine, __,” he said. “You don’t have to say it back, I don’t expect you to say anything like that unless you mean it. Take your time, clear your head and think about this as long as you need.”

You nodded.

“I just need to ask you for one favor.”

“Anything you want.” Your voice was as soft as ever.

“In the mean time, don’t treat me any differently. Don’t treat me like the guy who just confessed his love for you, treat me as your best friend, yeah?”

You couldn’t help the smile that slowly overtook your lips, and he smiled as well, this one seeming more genuine than the last.

“Of course, Jimin.”


After that night, you tried not to show it, but everything became as clear as daylight to you. You noticed every little thing you managed to be so blind to before, and you felt like you could throw yourself off a cliff at being so stupidly oblivious all those years. All the simple things you thought Jimin only did out of pure niceness or just simply for the fact that you were his best friend, weren’t  that simple.

Like when you first broke your phone and he took about half the money he’d been saving up for the last year to buy you a new one. Or when, in your first year in uni, managed to fix both your schedules so that you had about 90% of your classes together, only managing to miss a few. Or when you found out he’d asked his brother to pitch and help him with some money on your birthday because he knew you’d had your eye on that one necklace you showed him once when you were walking around downtown. Or when he made a copy of his apartment keys especially made for you, with your own key chain as well that had both your initials carved into it, even when you knew he loved his privacy and it was one of his top priorities. Or when he spent a whole week at your house when you had a simple cold, adamant to spend a whole week to make sure you were okay even though you’d started feeling better after only three days.

And now you noticed those loving looks and smile he kept reserved only for you, the ones you used to think he gave to everyone because he was just that much of a sweetheart. The hugs he gave you, and the kisses he planted to your head.

You were still confused and your mind was a mess, but you tried to make him feel like nothing was wrong and that you were taking it well. And you really were trying, you were thinking about it. Not a second passed by without you thinking about it, trying to decipher how exactly you felt about. 

You just needed some time, and as long as Jimin was more than willing to offer that to you for as long as you liked, you were going to take it.


“You’re coming tonight right?” He asked through the phone.

“Yeah, of course. I wouldn’t miss his birthday for anything.” It was Jin’s birthday, and the guys along with a lot of other people are planning on celebrating it with him to the max tonight in one of your favorite bars that you usually gathered in.

“Great, I’ll pick you up then. Be ready at 9, yeah? Love you.”

And he hung up. Your eyes widened at that last statement, at the way he said it so naturally as if he was used to it. And as he sat there in his room, his phone now locked as he started at it with wide eyes, realizing the words he’d just let slip out of his mouth unintentionally. He was starting to panic on the inside, fear building up inside of him at the thought of you being annoyed or repulsed with those two simple words, but what he didn’t know was that you sat there, phone held in hand as well, similar to him, except there was a small smile spreading on your lips because it actually sounded so nice to hear those words from him come so casually and naturally.

Later that night, you were dressed in one of your favorite dresses. It was maroon colored. tight on your torso but flowed at the wait. It went down to mid-thigh and had an open back. You wore heels to top it off, and your hair was down with a bit of makeup. You didn’t know what to think of the fact that you wore this dress because Jimin had once said how much he liked it on you, and that it was his favorite color. Or that you let your hair down even after you’d earlier decided that you wanted it up, because you remembered Jimin saying he loved it when you had your hair down, natural and without a thing done to it. And that you cut down on your makeup because he loved the way you looked with minimal makeup. He said he appreciated the small effort you put in while still being able to see some features that he didn’t like to be hidden under makeup.

And so when you saw him waiting for you in the car, his head down as he used his phone, probably playing that game he was currently hooked on, you felt your heart beat faster and your palms got slightly sweaty. But then it all went away when you got in the car and he looked up at you, his eyes almost disappearing at the wide smile he gave you, teeth on full show and cheeks squished up in the most adorable way,

“You look gorgeous.” It wasn’t the first time he’d complimented you that way, but it was the first time you felt your cheeks heat up slightly, but you couldn’t even bother to hide it.

“You look dashingly handsome as well,” you teased, and he chuckled as he tried to tone down the slight blush that was begging to show on his cheeks. And at that moment, you honestly couldn’t help but lean across the gear lever and smacked your lips against his cheek, giggling when you saw the smudge your lipstick left on his skin.

“W-what was that for?” He chuckled, but you didn’t miss the small stutter at the beginning of his sentence.

“Just felt like it,” you answered simply with a smile as you lifted a hand to wipe away the color from his cheek.

The smile he sent your way had your heart fluttering in a way it never did before.


“Happy birthday, Jinnie!” You pulled him into a bear hug and he squeezed back just as tightly. You pulled away and held him by the shoulders, smiling at him widely. “You’re one year older now, maybe this’ll make your lame dad jokes sound funnier now that you’re- ow! Okay, okay, I’m done.” You let him go with a laugh as he scowled at you playfully.

“Just take your friend away Jimin, I don’t need to hear this on my birthday.” He pushed you towards Jimin, and you stumbled and fell into his arms, grateful that he steadied you firmly. You turned to Jin and flipped him off, but Jimin kept his arms around you nonetheless.

“If I leave, my present’s going with me so..” You turned to Jimin once again and wrapped your arm around his to pull him elsewhere, looking for empty seats so you could settle down. You pretended you didn’t almost hear your heartbeat in your ears because your arm was wrapped tightly around his, and you could feel his muscles beneath the material of his shirt.

The tables were filled with people whom you know, and some you didn’t. You greeted all of them nonetheless, letting go of Jimin to give a few hugs around, and then you felt his arm around your waist instead.

You settled down next to each other, both of your seats unconsciously turning towards each other as you engaged in a conversation about who would wear something flashier tonight, Taehyung or Namjoon, each of you betting on one. The bet ended in laughter as soon as the pair showed up, with you winning because of Taehyung, tears of laughter gathering at the corners of your eyes, Jimin leaning his forehead against your shoulder in an attempt to hide his laughter as some of the eyes around you turned to you with amused looks.

“Fine, I’ll get the drinks, you earned it.” he sighed with a smile and stood up, and you nodded triumphantly. You watched as he talked to the bar, raising his hand to grab the attention of the bar tender. However, out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone get up, and when you looked their way, it was a girl. A very pretty one at that.

She was sat with a few of your friends, but her face wasn’t very familiar to you. That wasn’t your concern at the moment. Your concern was that you saw the look in her eyes, and it was fixed on Jimin. Her walk was determined as she made her way to the bar, and you suddenly felt queasy. The smile that was once on your lips was slowly fading away the more you took in her appearance. She looked damn near perfect. Hair long and wavy, a shine to it that made yours look dull. She had on a skin tight dress that showed off her gorgeous figure, and her legs seemed so long and toned in the heels she was wearing. Not only did she have the body, but her face was really cute as well.

The more you analyzed this girl who has now reached Jimin and tapped him on the shoulder shyly, the more you slumped in your seat and uneasy feeling in your stomach seemed to grow.

“You look like you want to jump off a cliff,” a voice suddenly sounded in your ear and you jumped in surprise. You looked to your left to see Jungkook next to you, smiling at you with a knowing look on his face. You quickly put a smile on your face and shook your head with a laugh.

“And why would I want to do that?” You teased, leaning back in your seat.

“Are you really trying to bullshit me right now?”

“Jungkook, what the hell are you-”

“You know,” he cut you off and leaned towards your seat to say something that only you would hear, and you felt your heart speed up for what had to be the third time so far this night at his words. “He only has eyes for you, so don’t stress it too much.”

“What’re you talking about?” You tried to steady your voice and sound as confused as you could, but you had a feeling you knew what.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he repeated your thoughts aloud. You couldn’t handle looking at him anymore, knowing he had you figured out, and turned your gaze to the bar once again. Though you wish you hadn’t because the sight made you rage with jealousy. Yes, jealousy, that’s what it was. JImin was still waiting for the drinks to arrive and the girl was standing too close to him than what you thought was necessary, giving him those heart eyes and swooning up at him with a flirty gaze. You could almost hear her obnoxious giggle in your head.

You were so blinded by your jealousy that you didn’t even see the uncomfortable look on Jimin’s face at the moment, clearly trying to weasel his way out of the conversation that didn’t seem to end.

“If you can’t see it, I’ll tell you that Jimin is more than not interested in her because it looks like he’s being tortured right now,” Jungkook said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. And true to his words, you finally looked up at Jimin’s face, only to see the uncomfortable expression he adorned, a smile so fake on his lips you almost laughed right then and there.

You heard yourself sigh in relief, and Jungkook chuckled beside you. “Your his best friend, aren’t you supposed to help him out of this?”

You looked to him to see if he was serious, and he raised his eyebrows at you with a smile, as if challenging you to do it. You took a deep breath, put your clutch aside and got up from your seat. You would’ve been deaf not to hear the ‘yes’ that Jungkook said as you made your way to Jimin, and you could almost imagine him fist-bumping the air.

“Babe,” you put on your ‘girlfriend’ voice, wrapping your arms around Jimin in a back-hug. He jumped slightly at the sudden contact, turning his head to look at you with a surprised look but you only smiled at him, hoping he got the message. “What’s taking you so long?”

His surprised look was suddenly replaced with a smile of his own, and he grabbed your hand to pull you next to him, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and placing a kiss to the top of your head. You felt like you could melt right fucking there. God, you never wanted to leave his arms. He smelled so good, and he literally radiated warmth, tempting you to cling onto him like a damn koala.

“Sorry, baby,” he said, and if it weren’t for you supporting yourself on him, your knees would’ve wobbled at the pet name. “The drinks are taking a while.”

The girl awkwardly cleared her throat, and you almost scoffed at the sight of her still there. But you managed to put on a fake smile when you turned to her, greeting her nicely despite her eyeing you up as if you were trying to steal her man.

“Hi,” you said cheerfully. “Who are you?”

Jimin snorted lowly, but it was enough to be heard, so he quickly tried to cover it up with a cough. He tightened his arm around you, and you took it a step further by stepping in front of him. He was sat on one of the stools, so he parted his legs for you and you leaned back into his chest as he wrapped both arms around your waist and rested his chin casually on your shoulder.

You could practically hear her seething.

“I’m Jane,” she answered curtly with a smile so fake you almost vomited. Her eyes turned to Jimin once again and what she said next surprised you. “Is this your girlfriend or something? My friend told me you two were just friends so..” She trailed off as if awaiting for some type of explanation.

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips, but then Jimin squeezed your waist to calm you down, knowing you had a low tolerance level for rude people. “I don’t really care what your friend told you, but just to clear everything up here. Yes, we’re dating, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop ogling my boyfriend,” your smile was sickeningly sweet in contrast to your words. It felt nice to say those words. Dating. Boyfriend. Jimin. They all seemed to sound nice coming together.

She scoffed and with a barely audible ‘whatever’, she turned away and went to the restrooms. You felt relief when she disappeared from your sight, relaxing against Jimin’s chest. Then you felt his chest rumble and you knew he was chuckling.

“Thanks for that, she wouldn’t take a hint.” His words were followed with a kiss that was pressed to your cheek. You turned to him, and was pleased when his arms didn’t loosen their grip from your waist, looking up at him with a smile.

“It was my pleasure really,” you chuckled. “She seemed like a bitch anyways.”

The smile he gave you told you he knew. He knew everything. But he kept his word and stayed quiet, not pressing the subject further and giving you the time you needed. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that it was working, and that you were starting to realize everything. He was willing to give you all the time in the world if it meant you would end up being his.


“Don’t get drunk, Jimin.”

“Don’t drink too much, Jimin.”

“Jimin, this is your fourth drink already.”

“I think you should cut down on the drinks, Jimin.”

Despite all your warnings throughout the night, he still ended up dunk. Drink after drink, he would promise it was his last one, but then he’d tilt his head and give you that look that made you think you were best friends with a damn puppy, and you would cave in. You thanked god that you had the self control to stop from consuming too much alcohol yourself, because if it wasn’t you that took care of drunk Jimin, then who would it be?

“I’m not drunk, __,” he whined, and you giggled when he attempted to rest his elbow on the table but only managed to slip and nearly bump his head on the wooden surface.

“Sure, sweetie, you’re not. But no more drinks for you anyways,” you tried to say as sternly as possible.

“Fine,” he huffed with a pout and rested his chin against his hand, gaze fixed on you. A lot of the people that were here had left since it was past 2 AM now, not more than ten people still sitting at the tables, most probably drunk as well, even Jin since he was the birthday boy.

Your eyes landed back on Jimin to see that he was still staring at you silently, and you shifted under his intense gaze.

“What’re you thinking about?” You asked quietly.

“You.” Your eyebrows raised.

“Me?” You leaned towards him and rested your head in the same position as his, now facing each other. “What about me, Jimin?”

“You’re gorgeous.” He blurted out, and you felt your face heat up. “You’re so, so gorgeous. I’ve thought so since we were kids, even in middle school when you got your braces,” he giggled and you smacked his arm but stayed quiet. “Even in high-school when you had that stupid hippie phase that lasted three months.” You groaned at that, but you couldn’t help but giggle as well. “Even when you’re crying and you feel like shit, you still manage to look so fucking beautiful. How is that possible?” You didn’t think you were supposed to reply to that, and he continued talking. “I know I said I’d give you as much time as you needed, and I’m still keeping that promise, but it’s honestly taking so much willpower for me not to kiss you right now..” His eyes were hazy as they stared at you, the look in his eyes holding so much love and want for you.

Your face was now beet red at his words, and you gulped nervously when you saw his eyes flicker down to your lips. But you couldn’t let this happen, not like this, when he was drunk and would most probably forget he even did it the following morning. So you smiled softly and got up from your seat, grabbing his arm to help him up.

“Let’s get you home, Jimin.”


When you were laying in bed one Friday night, scrolling through your Instagram feed, you really didn’t expect your thoughts to take a downhill turn he so quickly.

You saw a photo of Jimin. You smiled, double tapped and scrolled past it. But then after a few more photos, you quickly scrolled back up, looking at it for a few seconds before you clicked on his name. His account showed up on your screen, and that familiar warm feeling entered your tummy when you started to flick through his pictures, most of them being with you. Some were just downright silly with the ugliest faces, some with you two smiling like normal people, and some were of only you. Those photos were his favorites, he once said to you, because he took them without you noticing and you looked effortlessly beautiful. Which was frustrating and unfair, he’d add in the end with a laugh.

You paused on one photo in particular. It was an old one, years ago. You were on his back, gripping his shoulder and he was holding up your legs around his waist, and Jungkook had then managed to snap that photo seconds before the both of you went tumbling to the ground.

You loved this man so much it hurt. You weren’t hesitating it admitting to yourself that, yes, you felt the same way about him that he felt about you. But what ifs were starting to take their toll on you, and you knew you shouldn’t let that happen. You should just do what makes the both of you happy and end the wait, but then… what if?

What if you two broke up? What if it didn’t work out? What if, once you two started dating, he would quickly get tired after realizing you weren’t anything special? What if you two grew apart?

No. No. You couldn’t handle that, not ever. He was too important for you to lose. He was there with you your whole life and you weren’t about to make a mistake and even consider the idea of losing him along the way.

As much as you craved to tell him how you felt, to tell him everything, and have him wrap you in his arms and kiss you again and again, you couldn’t. You gulped down a heavy sigh, but the lump in your throat was stuck there as you felt tears pool up in your eyes.

You took your phone out, choosing that a text would be much easier to do this than over a phone call or in person.

i’ve thought about what you’ve told me a lot over the past few weeks.. you know i love you jimin, i love you to death, but i think it’s better if we stay friends. i’m sorry


Six days. Six days and he still hasn’t texted you, called you, seen you or made any type of contact. You didn’t know if you were angry or guilty, or maybe both at the same time.

You knew this would happen. You two weren’t even in a relationship and he wasn’t talking to you because you rejected his feelings. You couldn’t lie and say you expected this though, you were hurt to say the least. You didn’t think this would be enough to throw over a decade of friendship away, you thought you were more important to him and he loved you enough to try and move on.

But clearly you weren’t.

Currently on your living room couch, TV on but you weren’t really watching, lost in your thoughts as you thought about what you should do. Then the door of your apartment swung open and you jumped up from your couch, hand on your heart as you saw Jungkook march into the living room.

“What the fuck, Kook? You can’t just barge in like that, I could’ve -”

“What the hell did you tell, Jimin?” His voice wasn’t high but you could hear the anger in it. You froze in your spot, and the look he was giving you only made you shift your gaze to the ground for a few seconds before you looked back up.

“Did he tell you?” You asked.

“No, but I’m guessing it’s something really stupid considering the way he’s been acting the past few days,” he snapped.

“I’m trying to talk to him, but he won’t answer! I must’ve called a hundred times but he won’t even answer me,” you defended yourself. “I’m not gonna go and force him to talk to me, if he needs space for a little while, I’ll give it to him.”

“Oh yeah, well he sure is enjoying his space alright,” he sighed, uncrossing his arms and walked forward to sit down on the couch. He ran his hands down his face before he looked back up at you. “Do you know what he’s up to tonight?”

“I told you, Jungkook, he hasn’t been answering any of my calls. How the hell would I know?” You huffed, dropping down on the couch next to him. Then the words that left his lips hit you harder than a fucking truck.

“He’s going on a date.”

Your mouth dropped open and you looked at him in disbelief, trying to ignore the gut-wrenching feeling you suddenly felt, hoping what you just heard was just a figment of your sick imagination.

“Yeah, a date,” he confirmed. “He said it was too much for him and that he needed a distraction.”

“A distraction?” You said in disbelief, slowly feeling a small twinge of anger rising inside you.

“Yeah, and to make it even worse, it’s with that girl from the bar the other night,” he continued, fueling that growing anger. “The one from Jin’s birth-”

“Yeah, I fucking know her, Jungkook,” you snapped.

“Alright, jeez, don’t shoot the messenger,” he held his hands up. “I just thought you’d better know.”

How could he do this? Six straight days you’d been drowning yourself in guilt, crying yourself to sleep at the thought of losing your best friend. He was your everything and you lost him. You hoped and prayed he would at least take some pity on you and talk to you face to face one last time to tell you he couldn’t be your friend anymore, so that you could see him one last time and be in his presence. 

But a date?  A distraction? Is this what he called being in love?

It was like someone had stabbed you in the back, and the last person you imagined would’ve made you feel this way was Park Jimin. Yet again, you were wrong.

You forced your anger to overpower your sadness, managing to hold back the tears to ask Jungkook the question that was nagging you. “Where is he?”

If you thought his answer before had destroyed you, the answer he gave you next sent you six feet under.

“At the diner you two go to.”


Angry tears that you couldn’t stop were streaming down your face as you got out of the cab, practically jogging up to the door of the diner. You looked through the glass windows to find him sitting alone at one of the tables, and it seemed as if you were getting all sorts of hits today when you realized he was sat at your usual table.

You swung the door open, not caring about the few heads that turned towards you as you stomped your way over to him, noticing that the seat across from him was empty.

Good, she must be in the bathroom or something.

You stood in front of him and wiped away your tears, but it was useless because a fresh wave escaped your eyes as soon as you did.

He looked up at you as soon as he felt your presence, and his eyes widened at the sight of you in tears. He quickly sprung up from his seat and took a step closer to you, lifting his hand in an attempt to wipe your tears but you took a step back quickly.

“__, baby, what’s wrong?” His voice was so good to hear after so many days, but it still hurt to hear it.

“You brought her here?” You whimpered out. “You brought her to our fucking place, Park Jimin? Is this what you call a distraction?” You tried to control your voice but it was shaky through the tears and half sobs you were letting out. “Football is a distraction. Golf is a distraction. Drinking is a distraction. Hell, even go to a fucking strip club for all I car, Jimin. But bringing someone you barely know to this place, and having the nerve to bring her to our table? Wow,” you chuckled bitterly, and you almost scoffed at the confused look on his face.

“__, what are you talking-”

“Six days, Jimin! No calling or texting or anything, and I was okay with that because you need your space, I know that,” your voice was desperate now. “But why would you do this? I thought you loved me.”

“I do,” he said in a heartbeat, and he took a step closer and held your hand before you could step back. “I do. I love you so fucking much, but what the hell are you talking about right now? Who did I bring here? __, I’m so confused, just please talk to me.”

“Jungkook told me you were here on a date, Jimin,” you sniffled, using your free hand to wipe some tears away as you took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down.

“He did what?” His tone was shocked, and you almost believed.

“Come on, Jimin. Cut the crap, why would he-”

“Oh, hey, __. I didn’t know you were coming.” You heard a familiar voice come from your left, and your head snapped to see Taehyung making his way over. “Sorry, I was in the restr- woah, are you okay? What’s wrong?” His smile was wiped off and his voice filled with concern at the sight of you in tears.

Your eyes quickly went back to Jimin and he was already looking at you, eyebrows raised as if to tell you, see?

“Oh, erm, hi Tae..” You said awkwardly, letting go of Jimin’s hand and wiping at your tears hastily, attempting to fix your distressed state as you felt your face become red. “Yeah, I just needed to talk to Jimin real quick.”

“__, come on. I need to talk to you,” Jimin grabbed your hand. “I’ll catch up with you later Tae.”

Tae smiled understandingly and waved the both of you off as Jimin pulled you by the hand outside of the diner, and even in a time like this, you cherished the warmth of his hand enveloping yours.

He kept walking until he reached his car, and he wordlessly held the door open for you after he unlocked it before making his way to the driver’s seat. He got in but didn’t put the keys in the ignition, sitting quietly for about a minute straight before he spoke up.

“So you came here because Jungkook told you I brought some girl here on a date?” He asked.

“Kind of..”

“That little shit,” he growled. “He always has to stick his nose in other people’s shit and-”

“I’m glad he did, Jimin,” you cut him off. You knew he turned his head to look at you but you kept staring ahead, eyes fixed on a flickering street lamp in the nearly empty parking lot. “If it weren’t for him, who knows how long it would’ve taken me to talk to you.”

“I’m sorry. I was gonna call you soon, I just..” He trailed off, guilt evident in his voice, and you felt the same exact feeling because he didn’t do anything wrong, nothing.

“Don’t apologize, you had every right not to answer,” your voice sounded choked and you felt like the tears were coming back any second now. “I mean, what kind of best friend am I? I couldn’t even tell you in person, when you deserved an actual conversation and a full explanation about it, I texted you a short meaningless text like I was ordering a fucking pizza or something,” you sniffled when you felt a tear slowly slide down your cheek.

You felt his hand on your cheek, his thumb softly stopping the tear on its path, and you turned your head to look at him, eyes filled with sorrow and regret.

“I’m so sorry, Jimin.”

“Don’t apologize, __. You can’t help your feelings. It’s not your fault that you don’t love-”

“But I do!” You blurted out desperately, not standing the thought of him thinking you didn’t. “I do, I love you so fucking much, Jimin. I’m so in love with you.” Your hand came up and grabbed his that was on your cheek, holding it tightly in both hands, your body shifting slightly so you could face him properly. “I just don’t want to lose you. You mean the world to me and just the thought of something going wrong and then us drifting apart makes me go crazy. I just -” You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. “I can’t live without you.”

“You won’t have to. You won’t ever have to do that, __.” His tone was so soft and reassuring, you found yourself leaning over the console and throwing your arms around his neg in a tight hug. You buried your head in his neck, your tears wetting his neck but he didn’t seem to care as he buried his face in your hair. His arms tightened around your waist and he helped you lift yourself and maneuver your way into his lap. “No matter what, I’ll never leave you. I thought you’d know that by now considering the way I’ve been stuck by your ass for the past decade or something.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle despite your tears and he chuckled as well, and you tightened your arms around his neck, digging your face deeper into his neck to inhale his scent, something that always managed to calm you down.

You stayed that way for who knows how long, wrapped in each other’s arms, unable to pull away. But then a knock on the car window caused you two to jump apart in surprise, and you looked to see two smiling faces. Jimin hissed in displeasure but rolled his window down nonetheless.

“The hell are you doing here?” His question was most probably pointed at Jungkook.

“Just checking up on you two since you can’t seem to take care of yourselves like fucking grownups,” he scoffed but he had a smile on his face, earning a chuckle from Taehyung.

“Get out of here before I kick both your asses,” Jimin threatened in a serious tone. “And don’t even get me started on what I’m gonna do with you later, you little -” You cut off his threat to Jungkook by giggling and leaning against his chest.

“You should let him off the hook this one time, babe,” you let the pet name slip and you saw his lips curl up slightly. “At least it worked.”

“Yeah, Jimin, it worked,” Jungkook said smugly. And this time you flipped him off before rolling up the window yourself, quite pleased with the black tinted glass.

“Hey! We need a ride!”

“I suggest you two leave before you hear anything you don’t wanna hear,” you yelled, giggling when they groaned, muttering ‘ew’ and ‘gross’ simultaneously before it was silent once again.

You looked back to Jimin to find him looking at you with a large grin on his face, and this time you were the first one to say it.

“I’m in love with you , Park Jimin.”


“__, fuck. Baby,” his head dropped back against the pillow as your kisses traveled down his bare chest, already slightly damp with sweat. You didn’t waste a single second and quickly unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down with his help. You bit your lip when your eyes landed on the bulge in his boxers, showing clearly through the dark tight material.

His chest heaved up and down when you grabbed the hem with your teeth, your pinkies hooking on both ends on his hips to help you pull it down, his eyes glazed with burning lust that had your body scorching hot. As soon as you got them all the way down, your lips quickly found his length, mouthing up and down at the hardness. You pressed sloppy kisses to it before your tongue slipped out for a taste, and his groan only spurred you on.

Your hand grabbed the base of it to angle him properly to your mouth, and you licked your lips at the sight of him so hard and ready for you. He stared down at you, eyes wide with anticipation as he waited for your next move, but they quickly slid shut once again when took his head in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he groaned out, his voice sounding much deeper than usual, and you felt yourself fucking soaking through your panties. Thankfully, your panties were the only piece of clothing you had on, making the steps you had to take later on much easier.

You slowly started bobbing your head to take more of him in your mouth, absolutely loving the way he tasted in your mouth. You weren’t usually one to enjoy doing stuff like this, but something about giving Jimin pleasure and making him feel good was better than receiving pleasure yourself. And you showed it to him by trying to take as much of him into your mouth as you couch until he hit the back of your throat.

“__, shit -” You gagged against his length and pulled your mouth away to cough slightly, regaining your breath but making up for it by stroking him with your hand, your spit making it easy for you to move your hand up and down. You leaned down and enveloped him once again in the warmth of your mouth, earning a long moan from him.

You didn’t know for how long you did that, bobbing your head slowly before increasing your pace every once in a while, then slowing down once again. Nothing but the sound of your mouth working on him, lewd sucking noises filling the room, as well as his pants and groans with your occasional hums were heard.

“Baby, baby stop.” He gripped your hair and softly tugged in an effort to pull your mouth away from him, and you obliged. “Come’ere,” he panted and you immediately clambered on top of his body, desperate to reach his mouth and kiss those swollen lips that you never knew would feel so amazing on yours, so right.

His hands touched every inch of your skin, fingers groping tightly onto every curve with neediness, and your hands did the same. Your nails grazed his skin, unable to control yourself, occasionally tugging on his soft hair when he squeezed your ass tightly in both hands.

Your hips moved and ground down onto his, your clothed crotch making contact with his bare length, but fuck it felt so good. Your panties were so thin and soaked through, you could practically feel every ridge and vein along his cock, and the pace of your hips immediately increased in desperation as sparks of euphoria tingled throughout your body.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” his head dropped back against the pillow beneath his head, eyes fluttering shut and exposing his throat to your lips. Your mouth landed on his Adam’s apple, your teeth grazing it softly and he reciprocated by splaying both hands on your ass and squeezing harshly, pushing you down harder against him and thrusting his hips up at the same time, putting just the right amount of pressure on your clit.

“Jimin,” you whimpered out. “Please, let me ride you.”

“Anything you want, baby. I’m all yours.” His words were breathy, lost in the pleasure of having you so willing in pliant in his arms, wanting this just as badly as he did. He was ready to give you everything, his whole world on a golden platter if you so much as thought about asking for it. His love for you was overflowing and he couldn’t believe he was finally able to share it with you.


“__, ah - fuck, yeah.” His groans were sexier than you could ever imagine, doubling the pleasure that was already running through your body. “God, you ride me so fucking good.”

You whimpered at his words, your nails digging into his sweaty chest as you bounced on top of him. He filled you up so nicely, nothing like you’d ever felt before. You were both drenched in sweat by now, your heart stuck to the back of your neck, and his matted down to his forehead, beads of sweat on his temples. He looked like a god, skin shiny with sweat, face blissed out, eyes fluttering shut every few seconds but fighting their way back open, swollen lips parted to let out pants and groans, cheeks flushed red in the most fucked out way.

“Fuck, fuck,” you whimpered, bouncing faster on him, the sound of skin smacking against skin filling the room as your ass met his thick thighs with each movement you made. “Jimin, I love you so much, baby..

The loudest moan yet left his lips at your words, and he immediately sprang up from the mattress and sat up, his torso now flush against yours. He grabbed your hips and continued to bounce you on his cock.

“I love you, baby. I fucking love you,” he practically growled out the words before wrapping his arms tightly around your waist to flip you over. Your hands wrapped around him and gripped frantically onto his back when he immediately started pounding into you, crying out in immense pleasure at having the man you loved so much fuck you so good.

Your moans turned to scream, the bed squeaking in protest at the harsh movements Jimin made, your bodies moving desperately on the bed as you fucked like it was the last time, when it was actually only the first time of many, and the thought of that alone had you moaning louder.

“Jimin - fuck!” You squealed out, your head dropping back against the mattress when his mouth enveloped your nipple hungrily, sucking harshly at the sensitive bud as he continued his assault on your pussy. You could almost hear the sound of him moving inside you with how wet you were, but it was drowned out by louder much more prominent noises.

“Mine. You’re mine, baby,” he grunted, his hands slipping slightly on your thighs before he gripped them tightly and positioned them properly around his waist. His mouth found yours and he stuck his tongue in your mouth, giving extremely harsh thrusts and swallowing your desperate cries in return, You could do nothing but run your nails down his back, the sensations running through your body becoming too much for you.

His hands slid down from your thighs to your ass, gripping harshly before landing a smack there, and you couldn’t even cry out properly anymore, barely a whimper slipping out.

Jimin fucked you through your first orgasm, staring at you with glazed eyes as you writhed beneath him in sensitivity, eyes eating you up with insatiable hunger that had been pent up through years.

He turned you on your hands and knees and fucked you hard and fast, before your hands gave out and you dropped your face into the mattress. But he couldn’t even bother to stop, fucking you with your cries muffled into the sheets as you gripped them so tight, you were pretty sure they ripped.

He then flipped you once again on your back and leaned down so his body was completely stuck to yours before fucking you slow and deep, building up your orgasm in the best way possible, agonizingly yet beautifully slowly, and it was so intense you had tears of pleasure running down your cheeks by the end of it.

He fucked you through the night, taking you in every way he imagined possible, pleasuring your body like never before, all the while releasing all the pent up frustration he had on your body and making it his once and for all.


You woke up and turned to find him already staring at you with a smile so full of love and adoration, you were bashful. You smiled back and he leaned in to peck your lips.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips, and he whispered it back in a heartbeat. You moved closer to hug him, your head resting on his chest. You’ve never felt safer than in his arms right now, legs tangled, bodies bare and stuck together as if they were one beneath the warm sheets.

→ Paper Doll | 01

Originally posted by sugutie

☆ pairing → Jungkook x Reader

☆ genre → idol+singer-songwriter!au, drama, slight angst

 warning sexual themes with smut in the next chapters, mentions of past unhealthy relationship 

☆ word count   → 2.1k

summary   → When the nation’s little sister, IU, gets into a huge scandal, your agency seizes the opportunity to thrust you into that now vacant spotlight. Your self-composed song Paper Doll becomes an overnight sensation, and soon people are itching to find out who was the one who broke your heart. All hell breaks loose once netizens discover that you used to date popular idol, Jeon Jungkook. Little do they know that it wasn’t him who left the relationship unscathed –  it was you.

alternatively: a story on the consequences of a hit break-up song

01 | 02 


a/n  → so basically this is me being coerced into writing jjk smut 
edit: pt i is more of a prologue



[+11,435; -2,003] this really breaks my image of him… proves how you can’t judge someone from their personality on camera

[+9,386; -1,983] all this time he was pretending to be super innocent haha all those stupid fangirls throwing money at him blindly must be going crazy

[+5,903; -1,234] i mean everyone goes through break-ups, but he was cosplaying as an innocent guy who was scared of skinship with girls all these years.. lmao he’s super shamel–

The words on the screen in front of him all blurred and bled into one big stain. He quickly scrolled through the hundreds and hundreds of comments, each more condemning than the last. A steady pressure was building in his ears, until the only thing he could see or feel were the accusations of a faceless crowd, all jeering at him loudly, fingers pointed.

It was as if his entire life flashed in front of his eyes right then, and he could suddenly recall every inconsequential and significant thing that had shaped his life the past seven years – the hours and hours spent in front of the mirror rehearsing the same steps over and over again, the taste of soggy ramen Hoseok hyung had let overcook last week, the screams of fans, the sound of his alarm clock, the look on your face when you told him it was over. There was no chronology to the kaleidoscope of fleeting glimpses of his past.

“What,” he breathed, hands shaking, eyes wide and disbelieving as his phone fell with a clatter on the table. He desperately wanted to ignore reality, but the stares that were all focused on him kept him grounded to the present.

Of course his first scandal would be linked to you.

Keep reading

Wait, what?

(based on this) (look, there’s a part two)


Yuuri barely has time to grab his jacket when he runs out the door, much less brush his hair or find a hat. Unfortunately, he’s sure that that means that his hair is an absolute mess. It’s been getting long again, but in between classes and helping Yura out with his routine on the weekends, he hasn’t had much time for things like haircuts. Besides, Victor doesn’t seem to mind it, and Yura likes to experiment hairstyles on Yuuri “so that if it looks stupid, I don’t have to see it on myself.”

It’s not that big a deal, except on days like this, when he sleeps in (thanks a lot Vitya) and doesn’t have the time to really get it under control. He usually meets up with his friends before class, and he doesn’t doubt that they’ll notice, and probably tease him about it.

They notice.

“Yuuri!” Estephania gasps, sounding too scandalized for her words to be anything but teasing. “What on earth happened to your hair?”

Yuuri flushes. “I was running late,” he mumbles.

Richard snorts. “You sure? Because that looks more like sex hair to me, man.”

“Ooh, he’s right,” Estephania coos before Yuuri can protest.

He wonders if it’s possible to die of embarrassment (especially since they’re not entirely wrong). “No, really I–”

“We know, sweetie.” She reaches up and moves his hair around a bit, trying to make it look presentable. “You’re just too easy to tease.”

“You sure you’re really twenty seven?” Richard raises an eyebrow.

Yuuri just smiles at the ground in fond humiliation (apparently it’s not a common emotion, but it’s a little hard not to be used to the feeling when he’s married to the world’s biggest drama queen) and nods. “I am.”

His friends are too much sometimes, he admits. Richard is the embodiment of America in a lot of ways: loud, completely lacking a sense of social norms, a walking personification of testosterone. Estephania is less… everything… than Richard, but she’s very touchy and affectionate in an entirely platonic way that reminds Yuuri a lot of Christophe, only without all of the innuendo. But they’re both loyal down to their very core, and they’re not bad people.

His phone starts ringing, Stammi Vicino playing loudly. Yuuri picks up, keeping his phone away from Estephania’s hands. “Да, Vitya?”

“Dude! You speak Russian too?” Richard looks like Yuuri just smacked him in the face. The school year just started, so they’re all still learning about each other.

Yuuri just smiles, since Victor is in the middle of one of his usual mid-morning crises. “Vitya, calm down,” he says in Russian. “Makkachin is probably out with Yura. You know he takes her for walks sometimes. Have you seen him today?”

He manages to get Victor off the phone just before class starts, flipping his phone to airplane mode since he’s sure that this isn’t the last he’ll be hearing from his lovable trainwreck of a husband.



Keep reading

NRK livestream: TRANSLATION, MARLON!

translated by @maksisskambackwards and @linneaxskam and me :) 

Host: Ohmygod, here we’re getting Jonas. Hi Jonas, or would you prefer I call you Marlon.

Marlon: Preferably Marlon, yes.

Host: How do you feel now that the shooting of Skam is done?

Marlon: It’s a little weird. I’ve, like, done this for two years. It’s a big part of.. When you do something for this long it tends to become a part of life, in your everyday life, that’s gone now. And that of course feels like a little hole (tomrom = empty space)

Host: You insisted that I should call you Marlon. Will it be good to leave Jonas a little? Do people think you’re Jonas?

Marlon: Yes, quite a few people think that. I think it’ll be great to have my name back.

Host: Back to Jonas. Now we re-enter the Skam universe, because it’s not totally over yet. We have to hold on as long as it’s there. Summer is over, who is Jonas with? Preferably, you think? Is it Emma? Is it Eva?

Keep reading

The Friendly Wager (Part 7)

Summary: AU. Reader and Bucky Barnes are neighbors and best friends. After yet another bad date, reader comes home to find Bucky with his typical weekend target. They decide to make a wager about dating, but is there more on the line than reader cares to admit?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,855

Warnings: language, fluff, angst, confrontation, drinking, cheesy romance, kissing, implied sexytimes, somewhat nsfw but not really, a potentially wasted beautiful meal

A/N: This is my last submission for the lovely Kait’s ( @bionic-buckyb) 5k AU Challenge. I did it! My prompt was “Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?

This was the sixth rewrite! LOL….The End! :)

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Originally posted by maikennielsen96

Keep reading

All Or Nothing - Smut

Originally posted by dylanmysunshine

Author: @dumbass-stilinski
Rating: NSFW 18+
Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Reader
Words: 6,244
AN: College AU, all human. This was never meant to be published tbh but you can thank @writing-obrien​ for it getting done. Also shout out to @hardladyheart​ for her late night motivation and @sarcasticallystilinski​ for spitballing title ideas with me.

The song that’s sung is obviously not mine, it’s by State Champs. Listen HERE.



You transferred into Berkeley college in the beginning of your sophomore year. You hated starting a new school, but at least it was college and not high school. You’d been here a few weeks. You hadn’t made any friends yet, just your roommate, but you were more acquaintances. She was an art major and a little quirky, plus her boyfriend lived off campus so she wasn’t around much.

Being a music major had it perks. There were a lot of hot guys in the music department, but most of them were too involved with their own projects to notice you. You were pretty quiet, always lost in your own head. No one would have guessed that you weren’t the least bit shy. And you liked to keep it that way.

However, life had become boring. You finally had the hang of your classes and schedule but you needed to find something else to do with your time. Which is why you found yourself in the music building, standing in front of the bulletin board. Most of the notices were the same, people selling instruments or looking for them, people looking for practice space, advertisements for open mic nights. But one flier in particular caught your eye.

It wasn’t fancy at all, maybe a little creased and wrinkled from being in someone’s pocket. It was plain white, written on with black Sharpie.

GUITARIST WANTED

FOR COVER BAND

MUST LIKE/PLAY ROCK MUSIC, POP PUNK.

CALL SCOTT

310-422-1124

There was a crudely drawn Chewbacca next to it, holding what looked to be a guitar. You chewed your bottom lip in thought. You could do that. You fit the qualifications. You pulled out your phone, typing the number in and saving it to your contacts for later.

Keep reading

A Life Less Ordinary by Jebiwonkenobi

It takes a few years but eventually they manage to agree on something; Derek Hale is an asshole, and Stiles Stilinski is in love with him.


Burn by night by thebrotherswinchester

Sheriff Stilinski has been kidnapped by Alpha werewolves. As bait. For his own son.


Cupboard Love by mklutz

He’s carefully balancing the sandwiches and the two biggest tupperware containers he could find that both had functioning lids when the front door opens and he almost drops everything right there in front of the stupid fountain.

If that’s Derek Hale, he’s definitely not a mountain man.


Daddy’s Do’s by apocryphal

“Hi Mr. Stilinski!” Lydia said pertly. “My name’s Lydia, and this is my daddy. His name is Derek Andrew Hale and he watches all of your videos on YouTube a lot, but he still can’t braid.”

[Stiles is a celebrity YouTube hairstylist. Derek may or may not have a crush. Lydia just wants a French braid for school picture day.]


Everything’s Better Under the Sea by tryslora

Everything changes when Derek goes under while surfing, hits his head on a board, and sees a man with a tail swimming away. He wants to know who that was, and what it has to do with Beacon Hills, the one place he never meant to come back to.

Keep reading

Fire and Ice // A Dylan O’Brien Smut

Prompt: He’s a die-hard Mets fan, but you just so happen to be dedicated to the Yankees + request

Warings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Fingering, Oral (both recieving), Different Kinks (masterbation kink also releasing on girl’s face), Basically the dirtiest and most descriptive smut I think I’ve ever written. 

Relationship: Dylan O’Brien x Reader

Word Count: 6,200 (Sorry not sorry, I got carried away with the details)

Song: Bad Things by Camila Cabello and Machine Gun Kelly

A/N: I literally grew up loving the Yankees (still do) and I honestly don’t know how I hadn’t thought of this before. Also, get ready guys ‘cuz some cool things will be happening the next few weeks and I really hope y’all like it. 

P.s. I was originally gonna post a gif, but then I saw these two pictures and fucking lost it.

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“Oh, for the love of God!” The young woman complained before taking a long gulp of her drink as she watched her team’s pitcher fail for the fourth time tonight. “Sal, I swear, I’m gonna kill him.”

“Well, at least you’re still in the lead.” The bartender chuckled, wiping down the countertop in between the two.

“Yeah, no thanks to Bryan Mitchell.” She sighed, shaking her head in disappointment.

It wasn’t exactly one of the biggest games of the season, but to her it just about was. The Mets had a surprising comeback in 2016 and the last thing her Yankees needed was to lose to that pathetic excuse of a baseball team. With her eyes glued on the television in this small but cozy downtown bar, (Y/N) placed her glass of whiskey back on her lips and let the hard liquid tear its way down her throat.

As soon as the batter of the opposing team failed to successfully hit the ball, (Y/N) let out a much needed breath of relief. Her attention was completely dedicated to the game playing on the tv screen. Well, that is, until she heard the sound of the front door opening. She didn’t quite know why, but (Y/N) felt inclined to look at whomever was arriving at this small bar she frequented so much. And, boy, was she glad she did.

Her breath hitched in her throat the second she caught sight of the incredibly handsome guy walking inside, a backwards cap settled on his dark brown hair that she felt the sudden desire to run her fingers through. The first thing she noticed was the sexy as hell scruffy, but surprisingly tame, beard on his jaw, her imagination immediately lighting on fire with dirty thoughts. His toned arms and veins straining against his muscles as he coincidentally sat on the stool beside her and lifted his arm to get a hold of the bartender was what caught her focus next. The employee instantly strode towards the beautiful stranger and asked what he wanted to drink. He politely made his order and (Y/N) couldn’t find it in herself to take her gaze off of his plump and inviting lips.

Embarrassment like never before washed over her now blushed cheeks when he, suddenly, turned to her with a confused expression and she realized she had been caught staring. She tried her best to dart away from his stare, but his eyes locked onto hers and eager chills ran down her spine when a small smirk made its way on his pink lips. She took the opportunity to really look at his eyes and they certainly didn’t fail to make her knees weak. They weren’t just a regular hazel color, they were warm with a liquid golden-brown that also had a spark of mischief in them she felt so inclined to get to know. It was strange how they both connected so easily just through looks even though neither one of them believed in love at first sight. The two did, however, believe in infatuation at first sight.

The smirk on his face didn’t leave even when she managed to break the stare the moment she heard the crowd cheering on the tv and she, immediately, turned to discover what just happened in the baseball game. Dylan certainly noticed that his Mets had just made a homerun, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the girl in the stool next to him. She wore high-waisted jean shorts that definitely worked in favor of her, breath taking, legs and his mind already came up with different scenarios of them spread before him. Her shirt wasn’t revealing in any way, it was just a plain Star Wars tee, and yet he still felt attracted to it. Maybe it’s the fact that he already knew they had a common love for this geeky movie series without even needed to exchange in small talk. But, the way her natural hair perfectly fell on her shoulders made Dylan want to push it aside and nibble down on her inviting neck.

“Are you serious?!” The gorgeous girl shouted, angrily pointing towards the screen even though she knew the umpire couldn’t actually hear her. “That was clearly foul play!”

Her words sparked interest in him and, reluctantly doing so at first, Dylan eventually turned his head towards the sports game. A smile lit up on his face as he watched his team celebrate their newest point only to, suddenly, remember the girl he had his eye on was complaining about this very achievement.

“Foul play?” Dylan questioned and (Y/N) immediately turned around towards the source of the charming voice. “Wait, are you a Yankees’ fan?”

“A proud one to be exact.” She smiled happily and if it weren’t for his shock with this new discovery, he certainly would’ve swooned at how beautiful she was.

“Perfect.” He sighed, only now realizing the bartender had left his drink in front of him when he was too busy gawking at her just moments ago.

“What?” She asked, genuinely confused at his odd reaction and watched him take a sip from his bottle of beer. Then, the realization hit her like a truck and she shook her head with disappointment. “Oh, no. You’re a Mets fan, aren’t you?”

Dylan didn’t even say anything. He just put his bottle back down on the surface and reached behind his head to turn his baseball cap forwards. Immediately revealing The New York Mets logo stamped on the hat and (Y/N) held back her laughter at the unexpected situation they found themselves in.

“A proud one to be exact.” Dylan repeated her words and, this time, (Y/N) actually let a laugh fall from her lips. It was music to his ears and he desperately wanted to hear it again.

Their attention was back on the game when the sound of bickering and chaotic commotion came from the tv, both now focused on what was happening. Neither one of them knew why the two teams were now fighting, but their hearts lodged in their throats as they watched the players lunge at each other. It was hard to tell who exactly started the fight, but by the commentaries coming from the voice-overs it seemed to be the Yankees’ fault.

“Of course.” Dylan shook his head, taking another gulp of his beer. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

(Y/N) immediately turned to glare at him, rage and frustration rushing through her veins at the sound of disregard towards her favorite baseball team.

“Excuse me?” She hissed, completely offended at his remark.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does the 2000 World Series not ring any bells to you?” He retorted with a cocky smirk.

“You mean the year we completely destroyed your team’s ass?” She replied, a grin on her face as she proudly spoke. “Something we had already accomplished countless times and would continue doing ‘till, literally, this very day.”

“Roger Clemens and Mike Piazza.” Dylan simply stated, chosing to ignore her bragging and (Y/N)’s eyes widened at the familiar names.

“There’s no proof Clemens intentionally hit Piazza in the head with that fastball.” She defended and he let out a dark chuckle.

“Seriously? You’re really going to defend someone who gave a fellow baseball player a concussion just because he had terrible anger management?”

“Okay, you know what?” (Y/N) scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. “At least we have players that are actually good at pitching.”

That spiteful comment was enough to spark something in him other than desire for this girl and, needless to say, Dylan was outraged. No one can just mock his beloved Mets and think they can easily get away with it.

“Says the girl whose team lost to us, their biggest rivals, in a 15 to 6 defeat in 2008.” Dylan retaliated and didn’t expect the sudden chuckle (Y/N) let out.

“Sure, but what’s one losing game compared to the 27 different World Series said girl’s team has already won?” She shrugged and Dylan hated the fact that she was right. “Making her baseball team the one with the most wins ever.

“And sweetie,” (Y/N) continued, placing a hand on his thigh that sent lustful jolts throughout Dylan’s entire body. “You’re sad little team isn’t even close to being an actual rival of ours, not when you’ve only won a pathetic amount of 2 World Series. How about you try to insult me when you catch up with us big boys, huh?”

“Fuck, I don’t know what drives me crazier.” Dylan whimpered at her touch, his eyes boring into her dilated ones and there’s no doubt both of them clearly wanted to rip each other’s clothes off. “The fact that you keep dissing my Mets or the fact that you’re extremely sexy talking so passionately about baseball like that.”

With a sly smile on her face and confidence she didn’t actually know she had in her, the young woman extending her hand towards him.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” She greeted as he slipped his own hand into her grasp and shook them together. “Huge Yankees fan who apparently also happens to be very sexy.”

“Dylan O'Brien.” He smiled back at her, a small chuckle escaping his throat at her comment. “Long suffering Mets fan.”

“Nice to meet you, Dylan.” She laughed and he laughed along with her when her eyebrows, suddenly, furrowed. “Wait, why do I feel like I’ve heard that name somewhere before?”

“I, uh-” Dylan nervously scratched the back of his neck. “I’m an actor.”

“Hey, that’s right!” She exclaimed, now putting together the puzzled pieces in her mind. “You’re that kid from that werewolf show.”

“Yeah, Teen Wolf.” He corrected and she let out a long oh of realization as she remembered all the times she flickered through her channels and passed by this show without second glance.

“So, what brings a Hollywood star like you to this unknown bar?” (Y/N) asked, a playful smirk on her lips. “Shouldn’t you be out partying with models or other celebrities?”

“Nah, I hate that stuff.” He shook his head. “I really love my job but despise the attention.”

“I see.” She smiled, not expecting to meet such a humble famous person. Living in LA, you meet a few here and there and they’re usually always very egotistical. It’s quite refreshing to get to know someone that’s the complete opposite.

“But, what about you? What do you you do?” Dylan asked, taking another gulp of his beer.

“I’m the, um, GM of the Dodgers.” (Y/N) stated nervously and it took everything in him not to spit out his drink in utter shock. The woman giggled at his astonished gaze, his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.

“Y-You’re the General Manager of the fucking Los Angeles Dodgers?!” Dylan exclaimed after he managed to successfully swallow his alcohol.

“Why so surprised?” She challenged and Dylan couldn’t stop staring at her in complete awe. “Is it because I’m a woman?”

“No!” Dylan frantically shook his head. “It’s because I was already so attracted to you and, now, fuck… I think you might just be the death of me.”

“Well, O'Brien.” She grinned and Dylan suddenly moaned when she unexpectedly gripped tightly onto his thigh. “I’m very attracted to you, too.”

“Hey, do you want to get out of here?” He asked, beyond ready to do so many sinful things to her that even the devil himself would be ashamed of.

“Ah, the game’s still on.” She shook her head as she pointed towards the television. “Can’t stop supporting my Yankees just for a hook up.”

“The fact that you work for one baseball team yet your favorite is a completely different one amazes me.” Dylan chuckled, his eyes lingering over her body before landing back on her own.

“What can I say?” (Y/N) shrugged, the actor internally moaning when she bit down on her bottom lip. “I like to keep people on the edge of their seats.”

“Well, you certainly have me on mine.”

The sexual tension between the two was so strong that even the bartender could feel it seething off of them and taking over the entire room. He, honestly, thinks he could cut it with a knife from how palpable it was. (Y/N) still hadn’t removed her grip on his thigh and Dylan silently prayed to any god out there that she wouldn’t, his body craving her touch so much it made him hazy.

“How about a little bet to make things interesting?” She proposed and Dylan’s eyes perked up with intrigue.

“Go on.” He gestured, leaning in closer to her.

“If, after the game, the Yankees have won, you have to tweet out that my team is better than yours.” She stated with a grin and Dylan immediately scoffed at her proposal. “However, if the Mets win, you can take me to your place and have your way with me.”

Dylan’s cock already felt hard just at the offer alone as he watched her take a sip of her whiskey with a naughty smirk. It took all of the self control he had in him not to moan out and crash his lips against her red ones from the beautiful lipstick she was wearing.

“Deal.” He nodded and they shook hands for the second time tonight.

The two eagerly watched the game, both way too excited with what would happen right after. (Y/N) knew that, even if she does win, she definitely won’t be spending the night at her own house. They would constantly and shamelessly glance at each other, neither one caring about embarrassment. The lust and desire was so strong at this point that every stare, glance or lick of the lips was more than welcome. Not only were their bodies attracted to one another, but so were their minds. The two had more in common than they imagined and they enjoyed every second of mindless chatter and laughter. Dylan loved it when she laughed carelessly at his stupid jokes and (Y/N) felt like she was on cloud nine everytime he listened to her speak with such intrigue.

“Seventh inning stretch.” (Y/N) sighed, taking a sip from her third drink of the night as she groaned at the score. “And it’s tie.”

“Want to make things even more interesting?” Dylan smirked, narrowing his eyes in mischief and (Y/N) swooned, still not used to this man’s beauty.

“Just how interesting are we talking here?” She grinned, putting down the glass of alcohol she had in her hand.

“Let’s raise the stakes of this bet.”

“I’m listening.”

“If the Yankees win not only will I tweet they’re better than the Mets, but I’ll also record a video singing the Yankees’ theme to go along with it.” Dylan quirked his eyebrows and (Y/N) carefully listened to every word that came out of his mouth. “However, if my team wins, you have to come back to my place tonight and go on a date with me.”

(Y/N) eyes widened at the request and she, suddenly, felt her heart beat a little faster. With a happy smile now spreading across her face, she took her glass back in her small hand.

“Alright, O'Brien.” She nodded, clinking her drink with his. The sound echoing in their little bubble as they stared each other down. “I’m down with that, but you better start warming up your voice because there’s no way the Mets are going to win.”

It was as if the words she said immediately cursed the entire game the moment they fell from her red lips. The Mets were unexpectedly scoring homerun after homerun and (Y/N) would cringe everytime they did. Dylan, on the other hand, had a permanent smirk on his face the whole game. He would watch in awe whenever (Y/N) would angrily scream at the television screen and he couldn’t wait till she screaming under him. It didn’t take long for the game to end and (Y/N) question her entire existence. It’s not that she didn’t want the things that came with Dylan winning, oh she definitely wanted them, it’s the fact that her incredibly skillful and talented Yankees lost to the fucking Mets.

“Well, well, well.” Dylan grinned, standing up from his stool as (Y/N) groaned at his taunting. “Looks like my sad little team caught up with the big boys.”

The beautiful woman glared at his mockery towards the exact words she used just a few hours ago. They were meant to work in her favor not Dylan’s. She stood up from her own stool and took a step towards him, their faces now inches from each other.

“It’s only the beginning of the season.” She defended and Dylan smiled at her proximity, the smell of alcohol on her breath making him drunk on her. “The Mets won’t survive the entire year and you fucking know it.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” Dylan retorted and she couldn’t keep her stare away from his lips as he tugged the bottom one in between his teeth, (Y/N) instinctively doing the same. Dylan’s eyes looked down at hers and it was as if their little feud immediately disappeared and now all they could focus on was what was going to happen next.

“Okay, okay.” The bartender broke their stares, blushes painting both of their cheeks. “(Y/N) take your boy toy and get out of here already before you two start having sex on my countertop.”

“Sorry, Sal.” She cleared her throat and Dylan nervously scratched the back of his neck. “We were just leaving.”

The two shared smirks, lust taking over both of their pupils before they ran out of the door. Sal laughing at them as he closed his bar down.

“Kids.” He shook his head with a smile plastered on his face.



The ride to Dylan’s house was surprisingly pleasant. They found more things they shared in common like their love for goofy comedies and their incredibly similar taste in music. Dylan put his phone in the radio of his car and they spent the rest of the ride singing loudly to the songs they both knew by heart. Laughter was the second main theme of the night, right after desire.

“Do you want something to drink?” Dylan asked the second he unlocked the door to his one bedroom apartment and they both walked inside.

“No,” (Y/N) chuckled as she watched him throw his house keys on a small table and turn around to face her. “I’m pretty sure I had enough at the bar.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He laughed, nodding. “What about something to eat?”

“Not hungry.” She shrugged. “But you can eat if you’re hungry.”

“Oh, I’m hungry.” Dylan licked his lips, walking towards her in a predatory fashion and (Y/N)’s swallowed nervously at how sexy he looked. “Just not for food.”

Her breath hitched in her throat at his comment, jolts of lust rushing through her body and landing in her core. Dylan didn’t even wait for a possible response before crashing his mouth on hers and kissing her with such force he had to hold her lower back tightly so she wouldn’t fall. Both of them have been anticipating that moment the entire night and it was so much better than either could’ve expected. Their lips meshed together in sync with the perfect combination of hard and passionate. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around his neck to drop his baseball cap off his head and finally be able to run her fingers through his dark hair. The second Dylan bit down on her bottom lip, she tugged at the roots provoking a moan to escape from his mouth. The sound sent shivers down her spine and she knew that she desperately wanted to do more than just kiss.

(Y/N) broke the kiss to take a breath, but Dylan didn’t dare stop. He pushed her waist closer into him and she moaned when she felt his growing bulge against her body. Dylan left lingering kisses on her neck which spread goosebumps all over her skin. (Y/N) tried to reach down his back and pull the blue t-shirt off of him but Dylan just grinned against her neck.

“I’m in charge here, remember?” Dylan stated, his hot breath fanning across causing (Y/N) to shiver in response. “And I want to take things slow.”

“Fuck.” She whimpered when he nibbled on her pulse point and began sucking, clearly wanting to leave a hickey there.

Dylan took his time leaving kisses and hickeys wherever he damn pleased and it drove (Y/N) crazy. His provocative touches and the way his lips moved against her skin made her knees weak, wetness already pooling in her panties just from the teasing alone.

“Do something.” She moaned.

“Are you gonna beg for it?” He snickered and (Y/N) moaned again just at his dirty talk.

But, (Y/N) does not beg. She never had to beg to a man before and she won’t start now. Then again, she’s never met anyone like Dylan before. He had her wrapped around his finger just from one night alone.

“I don’t beg.” She shook her head and Dylan slipped his hands down to her ass, squeezing roughly.

“You might as well start learning how to.” Dylan’s face returned to hers, their lips slightly touching. “Because I love it when a woman begs.”

“And I love it when a guy actually fucking touches me.” She retorted and the smile on Dylan’s face didn’t go unnoticed.

He let go of her completely and she whimpered at the loss of contact, wanting desperately to feel his body back on hers. They took this moment to stare at each other and both loved the sight. The two had swollen lips from kissing so hard and smudged red lipstick all over their lips, chins and cheeks. Dylan placed his hand on the hem of her Star Wars shirt and pulled it off her, (Y/N) slightly shivering at the new lack of warmth. He kissed her gently, mostly to tease, as he unbottoned her high-waisted shorts and let them fall on the floor. As she stepped out of the jeans, Dylan licked his plump lips in appreciation at her gorgeous body. She was wearing a matching pair of simple a bra and panties, but the black heels she had on made her look beyond sexy to him. Dylan’s cock twitched against his jeans, desperately wanting to be inside of this breath-taking woman in front of him.

“Take off your bra.” He commanded and usually (Y/N) wouldn’t like being the submissive one during sex but this dominant side of him was turning her on more than she expected.

Slowly reaching behind her back, she unclasped the bra and brought the straps down until she was finally bare. Dylan’s eyes immediately stared at her breasts, the rosy pink nipples perked and ready to be played with. Which was exactly what he decided to. He took two quick steps towards her before returning his hands on her waist, (Y/N)’s back arching the second Dylan’s lips attached to one of her nipples. His hand carefully massaging the other breast he currently wasn’t working his tongue against. She couldn’t contain her moans at finally being able to feel something, but her core still ached in anticipation. When Dylan bit down on her nipple and pulled at it with his teeth, (Y/N) had to press her thighs together to be able to relieve some of the pressure.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Dylan tsked, shaking his head before removing his mouth. He pressed the hand that was on her breast on her thigh and pushed her legs apart. “I call all of the shots.”

“Ple-” She was just about to beg but realized what she was going to do and stopped herself immediately.

“What was that?” He smirked, gripping onto her skin and (Y/N) whimpered at the pressure that was in one place but should’ve been in another. “Were you about to beg?”

“Never.” She panted, his lips back on her nipple.

“Oh, come on Yankees Princess.” He snickered and she not only moaned at the new pet name but the feeling of him sliding his fingers closer to the place she needed him most. “All you have to do is ask.”

She chose to remain silent, not at all trusting her own voice and mind. (Y/N) was already putty in his hands and she didn’t want to give him anymore satisfaction. That is, until he completely broke away from her and took a step back. She stared at him with wide eyes and Dylan grinned sexily before removing his t-shirt. She felt cold and odd without his touch as he unbuckled his belt, pulling it out of his pants. Their eyes full of lust and desire never left each other even when he unbottoned his khakis and brought them down to the floor. Dylan kicked them away, but didn’t approach her again like (Y/N) expected. Instead, he folded his arms across his toned chest and cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m not touching you until you beg for it.” He challenged and her jaw dropped in awe.

Her eyes broke their gaze to look over his body and she swallowed nervously as she took the sight in, frustrated with herself because she now felt inclined to actually beg. Thanks to his crossed arms, Dylan’s muscles were pressing against his skin and it made her head spin. (Y/N) bit down on her lip when she looked at the trail of dark and scruffy hair above his boxers which held the massive erection bulging against the fabric, precum seeping through the cotton. Her core throbbed like never before thanks to the handsome man in front of her.

“Fine, fuck it.” She groaned and Dylan’s ears perked at her words. “Dylan, please touch me. I need you.”

It wasn’t exactly as desperate​ as he initially wanted, but it was enough for the desire pulsing in his own veins. He, too, wanted to touch her just as much as she did. And in a matter of seconds, Dylan rushed to her and instantly ripped apart her panties. Before she could even complain, his hands moved down to her ass and lifted her up. He kissed her passionately, tongue and all, as he brought her to his bedroom. Placing her down on his empty desk, Dylan spread her legs and fit himself in between them.

He trailed wet kisses down her body and (Y/N) buzzed with excitement. Once he reached her stomach, Dylan kneeled down in front of her and gripped his fingers against her heated thighs. He licked his way towards he left thigh and trailed his tongue close to her core. Just as he was about to touch her there, Dylan immediately switched course and began licking her right thigh.

“I’m gonna kill you.” She hissed through her clenched teeth and Dylan chuckled against her skin.

“Patience, Yankees Princess.” He teased as he nibbled. “Good things come to those who wait.”

She grunted, but accepted none-the-less. Although it’s not like she actually had a choice, the Mets did win after all. (Y/N) ran her fingers through his hair, slightly pulling the strands and Dylan would hum in appreciation. The vibrations shooting through her body and increasing the pain in her core.

When Dylan felt like she’d been teased enough, he let his tongue trace against the place they both desired the most. (Y/N) immediately moaned, not at all caring how loud she was being. His tongue spread apart her soaking wet folds and the young woman’s hips bucked when he momentarily trailed against her swollen clitoris. Dylan’s hand grasped tighter onto her legs as he gently slid his tongue into her, the ache in (Y/N)’s core now being replaced with pleasure and satisfaction.

She whimpered when he pulled his tongue away after working inside of her a few minutes but almost screamed out the second his lips attached to her clit and sucked furiously. One of his hands came into contact and slowly slipped a finger inside of her, her hips bucking instantly at the delicious pumping.

“Fuck.” She moaned and Dylan’s hard cock felt uncomfortable in his boxers as he watched her become a panting mess.

The feeling of his finger inside of her heat and pressing against her soft walls made his head spin, his dick begging to replace his hand’s place. But, Dylan was determined to make her cum with just his hands and mouth first. When he felt she was ready for a second one, he put another finger in and pumped at a faster pace. One of (Y/N)’s hands was buried in his hair and the other gripped tightly on the edge of his desk, her knuckles going white at the pressure.

With the mixture of his fingers curling against her walls and his tongue drawing figure eights on her clitoris as his lips sucked, it was more than enough to quickly build up an orgasm inside of the woman moaning uncontrollably. It didn’t take long to build and, the second Dylan unexpectedly bit down on her clit, her orgasm spilled over her entire body. Dylan didn’t dare stop what he was doing when her legs shook intensely along with her back arching up against the wall. He didn’t even stop when they did. The sounds that fell from her swollen lips and the way she looked as she came made Dylan greedy and he desperately wanted it to happen again. (Y/N) was still sensitive from her first orgasm and in a matter of minutes, she was cumming for the second time tonight. The sensitivity of her core making it easy to reach the edge of her pleasure again.

Even though Dylan removed his head from her inner thighs and attached his lips back onto hers in a forceful kiss, (Y/N) could still feel the burning of his scruff scratching against her tingling skin and she truly hopes the sensation never goes away.

There was more precum spread across his boxers that earlier and Dylan was beyond ready to get rid of the excruciating pain his cock felt from the lack of attention. He made his way back in between her legs after pulling his underwear off and kicking them somewhere far from his body. Dylan brought his hand to his member and pumped a few times in preparation. (Y/N) immediately moaned at the sight of him touching himself and Dylan certainly didn’t expect it.

“What-” He smirked, biting down on his lip at the feeling of his own thumb spreading around the precum on his tip. “Do you have a masterbation kink?”

“Maybe.” She confessed, a bright blush painting her cheeks as her pupils dilated when he increased his pace.

“Damn.” Dylan groaned, throwing his head back with shut eyes. “As much as I love this new discovery, I really want to fuck you right now.”

“Oh, please do.” She grinned, spreading her legs apart even further.

Dylan didn’t even need to think twice before placing both of his hands back on her thighs and lining himself at her entrance. His cock throbbed as he coated his tip in her slick wetness, lubricating himself. The two loudly moaned the moment he easily slid into her, the feeling of them becoming one making their bodies throb with excitement. Dylan let his forehead fall on her shoulder as he waited for to adjust to his size.

“Go ahead.” She stated when she was ready and Dylan immediately pulled back before pushing in again. He started thrusting into her slowly, moaning shamelessly at the feeling of her soft and wet walls tightly around him and (Y/N) loved the delicious feeling of Dylan stretching her as he pumped their bodies together.

(Y/N) wrapped her legs around his waist, giving him a new and deeper angle which he gladly accepted. His hands now moving their positions to thrust harder into her, his left palm flat out on the wall behind her and his right gripping harshly on the edge of his desk. She, however, decided to keep her hands on the arching muscles of his bare back. Considering how turned on they already were, it didn’t take much for the familiar knot to grow inside of the two. Dylan had to use every ounce of self control in him not to cum the second she unintentionally clenched around his shaft and, instead, he sunk his teeth into her shoulder.

Dylan pounded deeper into her, now continuously hitting her g-spot no one had ever found until this very moment, and his dream of hearing the beautiful Yankees’ fan from the bar screaming under him finally came true. Her voice echoed in the room along with the sounds of his desk mercilessly banging against the wall and wet skin slapping against wet skin.

“Fuck, I’m almost there.” Dylan panted, loving the feeling of her breasts bouncing against his bare and sweaty chest.

“Me, too.” She shouted, bringing her own hand down to her clit since Dylan was using his for stability.

It took her about 15 seconds of furiously rubbing her already overly sensitive nub before she felt the tight knot inside of her explode and spread mind blowing pleasure throughout her entire body. Dylan tried to hold his orgasm in him the best he could since he didn’t exactly want to cum inside of her without a condom. It was extremely difficult to contain himself, especially when she clenched around him again and dug her nails into his back, but Dylan somehow managed to contain himself as he shouted in frustration. Once he noticed she was back down from her high, he immediately pulled himself out of her and took a step back.

“On your knees.” He panted, his voice weak as he pointed to the ground in front of him.

Even though she was completely hazy from the ground breaking orgasm she just had, (Y/N) slowly slid off the desk and instantly fell to her knees. Dylan didn’t know wether or not she fell due to how weak her legs were or if it was actually intensional​ but the second she gripped his member and licked his tip, the thoughts immediately flew out of his head. Dylan’s mind now focused on her taking him into her warm mouth. His hands instinctively dug into her hair as she slowly bobbed his cock. In a matter of seconds, (Y/N) hollowed out her cheeks to make an even tighter environment for him and Dylan moaned shamelessly at the feeling.

(Y/N) absolutely loved that when her tongue grazed his wet member she could taste her juices on him and she decided to deepthroat him in appreciation. She took him in as far as she could, her nose buried in the patch of his dark hair and her throat gagging at the fullness. But, Dylan definitely loved it because his dick instantly twitched in response and he quickly pulled himself out of her mouth. His hot cum squirted out of his tip and he watched with hooded eyes as it painted her blushed cheeks. Normally, (Y/N) would never allow any man do such a thing to her but the way Dylan was looking at her with pure pleasure and enjoyment swimming in his dark pupils was enough to make her want it to happen again. His liquid dripped from her face and made its way down her breasts, Dylan unable to contain his groans at the sight.

“So, I’m guessing this is your kink.” She chuckled, coating one of her fingers with his release and putting it into her mouth.

“One of many.” Dylan smirked, extending his hand for her to grab with her free one.

They stared at each other with satisfaction in their eyes as he helped her stand, both of them simply knowing without the need to actually say that that was the best sex the two ever had.

“I’ll be right back.” Dylan stated, placing a lingering kiss on her lips before walking away and disappearing into his bathroom.

One of (Y/N)’s eyebrows quirked at the sudden sound of water from a sink running momentarily but, when he returned to her with a small and damp towel in his hands, everything made sense. He kindly wiped away the now sticky cum on her skin and she smiled up at him.

“Now about that date.” Dylan grinned, throwing the towel on the desk when he was done cleaning her body. “How does the premiere to my new movie with a romantic dinner afterwards sound?”

“A first date in the eyes of the public?” She questioned, challenging him. “Borderline crazy.”

“So, is that a yes?” He smirked and (Y/N) instantly laughed.

“Definitely yes.”

BTS Reaction - Their child runs on stage

Anonymous said: Reaction when during concert their little child run up on star with tears and saying something like"daddy this song is beatiful,you sing perfect" and starts crying and hugging him and all ARMYS make one sound like “owwwh cute” and kid gets shy🙈

So I’ve decided to just come up with Korean names for each of their kids. I feel like that makes it a little more personalized, rather than just putting Y/K/N. Also, my name is Sarah. I’m American and only know a small amount of Korean, so if I screw up these names somehow…I am so sorry and please politely correct me lol. Enjoy!

I kind of wonder if Taehyung picked those names for his future children because Taekwon sounds like Tae Kwon Do…Taekwon literally means “kick hand”

Taehyung:

You were having trouble controlling your three year old, Taekwon, as he toddled around backstage, huge red earphones covering his ears from the noise of the concert. You brought him with often to BTS concerts, because he enjoyed being able to watch his dad, his uncles, and look at all the bright lights. Although normally, he wasn’t this nuts. Jimin’s wife must’ve given Taekwon a Popsicle or something earlier that day, because your kid was bouncing off the walls.

Whenever they preformed Spring Day, it would get everyone onstage emotional. Taekwon knew his dad’s voice - and would always ask you to pick him up and point out Taehyung singing his part in Spring Day. This time was no different, because your baby tugged on your pant leg and threw his arms up.

“Where daddy?” Taekwon asks in his baby voice, his hands gesturing out and his shoulders shrugging. You smile and point at the figure across the stage. Taekwon looks, struggles in your arms before you put him down and turn to grab a water bottle from the cooler on the floor.

As you’re digging in the ice for a cold bottle, you hear a huge chorus of “aww”’s coming from the stage, and the boys laughing. Securing yourself a water bottle and turning around, you glance up and notice that your son is not where you left him - and has run out onto the stage into his dad’s arms. You watched with a hand covering your mouth as Taehyung crouches to catch his son and hoists him up on his hip.

“Your singing is nice!” You hear your son say loudly into Taehyung’s microphone, and laughter rumbles throughout the arena.

“Thanks, buddy. Can you sing a song for us?” Taehyung asks, expecting his son to blurt out the words to Spring Day, but Taekwon begins to sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star instead, which makes the entire arena resound with sounds of adoration.

Suga:

Twins. You and Suga never expected them in the first place, and it’s been a wild four years with them. Their birthday was soon, and you still remember the day they were born - Min Yoon-Shik first then Min Gi-Dae second.

The twins became more like their dad everyday, and you’d find the sisters singing along to all of BTS’ songs, and would try their hardest to rap alongside their dad in each song. They’d even try to learn the choreography - and while Suga wasn’t all that bad, the girls seemed to have gotten your side of the family: because there wasn’t a dancing bone in your body.

It was BTS’ last concert before they ended their latest tour, and you had decided to take the girls to this one to watch their dad preform. To say the least, the twins were extremely excited and kept their eyes focused on Suga the entire time. They even began copying his lyrics as he rapped them.

At the end of the concert, the boys sang Spring Day and had rose petals raining down on them, and the twins thought it was hilarious. Yoongi looked over to the side of the stage and an instant smile grew on his face at the sight of his baby girls, and he ushered the twins to come out on stage. Yoon-Shik and Gi-Dae looked at each other, then back at you for permission, then ran off onto the bright stage towards their dad.

“Can you teach us the dances for the songs?” Gi-Dae asked as Yoongi hoisted both her and her sister up in each arm. The entire arena sighed in awe, the other boys laughing at how cute Yoongi’s twins were.

“Ask Uncle Hobi for that,” Suga laughed jokingly, then kissed his daughters cheeks before setting them down. “Run along, I’ll see you in a few minutes loves.” He said aloud, before gently giving them little pats on their backs before turning around and thanking ARMY.

Jimin:

Jihyun was just like his father.

It wasn’t even funny - you swear you had no part in making your son because Jihyun was a spitting image of Jimin. It’s as if someone put Jimin in the copier and spit out Jihyun - all the same features and personality, just a different name, and much younger.

Jimin would often times take Jihyun to the studio because the five-year old loved watching the dance practices. Towards the end, Jimin would grab his son and teach him the moves - and his son would execute them almost perfectly. He was gifted, just like Jimin, and everyone saw it.

“Jihyun, stay here.” You said to your son, who was standing in the middle of the exit to the stage, watching his dad and uncles jump around as they began I Need U. Jihyun didn’t acknowledge your words, but tried his hardest to keep up with the minimal choreography he knew. It was adorable watching him spin around and trip over his feet - but he was better than any other five year old dancer you’ve seen (okay, maybe you were a little biased).

You didn’t realize it until you looked over on the TV screen to see your son just off to the left of the stage, visible to ARMY but behind the boys. Jihyun didn’t notice that he had veered too far onto the stage, and was too busy twirling around and singing along to I Need U to hear the ARMYs cooing.

You watched Jimin spin around when the song was done and lock his eyes on his son, immediately bursting into laughter and walking briskly over to Jihyun. 

“Jihyun, you’re giving everyone a show!” Jimin laughed, scooping up his son and bringing him to the front. The five year old looked miraculously at his father but began to enjoy being on stage with his uncles, who all came over and ruffled his hair.

“I’m gonna be like you one day,” Jihyun said with a bright smile while looking up at his dad. Jimin threw his head back in laughter and appreciation while the ARMYs in the crowd continued to awe. 

“I’m sure you will be, bud.” 

J-Hope:

Just like that - Hokyong was out of your sight and ran right into her dad’s arms. The two year old was the most excitable, energetic kid you had ever come to know, but you’d never trade that for the world. 

When Hokyong saw her dad, she would never hesitate to run over and hug him. It was just Hokyong’s thing - she’d laugh and toddle towards Hoseok with a big, toothy grin on her face. Your husband would just laugh right with her and cuddle his daughter in his arms.

“Look who has joined us today!” J-Hope said brightly into the microphone, glancing at his baby girl as she peered around with her hand stuck in her mouth. “Can you wave, Hokyong?” Her dad said, gently prying the hand out of the baby girl’s mouth.

Hokyong looked out into the crowd then shyly buried her face into her daddy’s shoulder, earning a huge, booming sound of adoration from the fans. The boys just laughed, Jimin coming over and patting your daughter’s back before looking back at you and shooting a thumbs up. You stood at the curtain watching, getting emotional at how perfect your little family was.

“Alright, baby. We have to finish the show, say bye-bye!” J-Hope said, putting the toddler down and grabbing her hand. Hokyong waved to the crowd before J-Hope walked her back to the side of the stage, kissing your lips before handing the baby back to you.

“My perfect girls,” he said, winking, before hoping back to his spot on stage and beginning BS&T.

Jungkook:

Your’s and Jungkook’s daughter had just turned a year old. She’d just began walking as well, and you decided to bring her to the last concert of the tour to celebrate her birthday with all the boys afterwards.

Jungmee was extremely intelligent, but very quiet and reserved. The baby girl had been a daddy’s girl from the beginning - always reaching for Jungkook when she was upset or wanted to be held. It was no surprise that Jungkook was the best dad in the world: he admitted he was nervous at first but seeing him with your baby girl was heart melting.

You sat with your daughter in your lap`as she stared out onto the stage, and from time to time, Jungkook would glance over and wave at you and Jungmee - winking and making silly faces. Finally, towards the end of the concert, you could tell your baby was getting tired. She was crabby, crying and struggling to get out of your arms, but whining when you but her down. 

When you put her down on the floor for what must’ve been the 100th time, you hoped she would somehow fall asleep despite the music echoing around the arena. Jungmee was sobbing now, screaming incoherent words as she had a tantrum right then and there. You sighed and over the course of 15 minutes, you picked her up and rocked her, tried to console her with a bottle and then resorted to just swaying back and forth with her in your arms as she screamed.

Jungkook must’ve noticed, and had watched you struggle to keep Jungmee calm. With a smile playing on his lips, he jogs over and stands in front of you, placing his hands under the arms of your daughter before taking Jungmee into his arms. She stops screaming, of course, but still hiccups as leftover tears roll down her cheeks.

“W-what are you doing?” You stammered.

“I want everyone to sing her happy birthday. It was going to be at the end of the concert, but it looks as if you could use a break..” He said, giving you a little smile as he walked back off onto the stage, looking adorable as he held Jungmee in one arm.

“It’s Jeon Jungmee’s birthday…I think we should sing happy birthday, don’t you think?” Jungkook says, bouncing the now happy, tearless baby girl. The entire arena erupted, singing happy birthday to your little girl. By the time Jungkook came over and handed her back to you with a kiss on the cheek, Jungmee smiled as she drifted off as you held her against your shoulder.

Namjoon:

Namsang was the sweetest baby girl on the earth - except when she threw The Tantrum. Your baby girl wasn’t spoiled - not by you at least, since Namjoon always decided to bring the three year old little presents and toys home - but when Namsang pulled The Tantrum, all hell broke loose.

So the little girl decided to pull The Tantrum at the worst time possible - just as Namjoon kissed both of you and ran out on stage with the boys. Namsang reached out after him as he hopped away, her lip curling into a pout as she began to cry. As the boys were jumping around and dancing to their opening song on stage, you turned your back and tried to bounce your daughter into calming down.

Namsang began to kick and try to pull away, and after 10 minutes of fighting her, you set her down. You sat down in the chair beside the stage and rubbed your hand over your face, already all of your energy spent. This is what was bad about bringing a three year old to a three hour long concert - you never knew what would set off another screaming-fest.

When you opened your eyes again, you didn’t even realize your daughter was gone from your sight. You were just relieved that the screaming stopped - and then noticed that something was missing. Frantically, you searched around, behind curtains, under tables and in the surrounding rooms, until you heard Namjoon talking on stage.

“Namsang! Come here,” Namjoon said, and you turned your attention to the CCTV streaming the concert. The camera was pointed at Namjoon with his arms wide open, crouching down to catch his daughter in his arms. Namsang ran into her dad’s arms, earning louds screams from the fans. 

“Aw, baby girl, what are you upset about?” Namjoon asks, wiping the tears from your daughter’s face with a small chuckle, picking her up and holding her close. 

“I didn’t w-want you to leave, daddy.” Namsang said, sniffling. The other boys covered their mouths to hide their laughter while Namjoon just turned his head and said, “Aw, I’m sorry. But you’re here now, right? You don’t have to worry, baby.”

Jin:

There wasn’t a time in your house that nobody was singing. Someone always had a song stuck in their head, and your four year old, Jinhee, was no exception.

Seokjin was constantly teaching her the lyrics to various BTS songs, and she always begged to attend every concert her dad performed at. She loved singing along to I Need U, and Spring Day. Jinhee tried to dance to Not Today, but when she’d trip over her feet, Seokjin would tell her to keep trying her hardest.

Another thing Jinhee did was get emotional. At four years old, you would think she didn’t understand anything her dad and uncles were singing about, but oh man, she did. The little girl would ask what was wrong and why the people they were singing about were leaving in Spring Day.

You had left Jinhee standing at the entrance to the stage while you left to grab a snack from the waiting room. She was usually very obedient, and would listen to you when you told her to stay there. Although, when you walked back Jinhee was not where you had left her. You dropped the fruit snack you had snagged for her and immediately looked out on stage - and saw her running behind all the boys and heading straight for her dad.

“Daddy!” She hiccuped, and there were tears that ran down her cheeks. Seokjin turned around, eyes going wide at the sight of his daughter rushing towards him. He crouched down and held Jinhee in his arms, and you saw him wiping away her tears as he began to talk to her.

“Hey, what are you doing out here? Are you okay?” He asked, concern laced in his voice.

“I-I, the song is sad,” Jinhee cried, burying her face in her dad’s shoulder. Jin closed his eyes and laughed, picking her up and facing the crowd. The entire stadium was a mixture of laughing and cooing, and Jin waved before heading back to the side of the stage to put Jinhee down by you.

“Don’t cry, okay? I love you, stay with mommy.” Seokjin said, kissing his daughter’s forehead before looking at you with a small smile.

this killed me and I am so sorry it’s so late

Josh Dun Imagine

Prompt: Josh is in a car accident 

It was late Friday night when you got the phone call.  Josh had gone out with some friends to celebrate him being back in LA.  You were equally excited to be back home and have a bit of a break, but you chose to stay home and enjoy doing absolutely nothing for the first time in months. You and Josh had spent all of last week in Jamaica, holed up in a luxury hotel to have a nice vacation together, so you didn’t even bat an eye when Josh told you that he was meeting some of his friends. You simply kissed him and sent him on his way.

It had been two or three hours since Josh had left when your phone rang.  Laura’s name popped up, along with a picture of her, Josh and you from Ashley’s wedding.

“Hi Laura,” you answered.

“Y/N?” She asked, voice broken and sounding almost hysterical.

“Laura? What’s wrong?” you asked, trying to make out what she was sobbing through the phone.

“It’s Josh,” she cried, and your heart instantly dropped down to the pit of your stomach.

“Mom—,” you heard either Ashley or Abigail say before there was shuffling on the other line.

“Hello?” you asked, becoming frantic.

“Y/N,” Ashley’s voice came through the phone, you could tell she’d been crying too, but she was more put together than her mother.

“Ashley, what the hell’s going on?  You guys are scaring the shit out of me. What about Josh?” you asked.

“They won’t tell us much over the phone. He was in an accident, and they called mom. They said he’s in a bad state, but they won’t say much else until we get there. Dad’s driving us to the airport, but it’ll be a while before we get a flight. Mom told them your name so they’ll release information to you when you get there. They took him to The Southside Kindred Hospital, but you’ve got to get there so you can figure out what’s going on. We’re all a bit in hysterics,” she said, voice rough with tears.

“Oh my god—,” you said, running around the house trying to collect your shoes and a jacket, before grabbing your wallet and keys. “Is he okay, Ash?” you asked on your way out the door.  You hurried into your car before speeding down the street.

“We don’t even know,” Ashley sounded frustrated. “Just call us when you get there and they’ve told you what’s going on. Get there quickly, please.  But drive safe because Josh being in the hospital is enough.”

“Of course, Ashley. I’ll call you as soon as I know what’s going on. Love you guys,” you said, knuckles whitening as you clutched the steering wheel.

Your mind was in a thousand different places at once the entire drive to the hospital, but when  you got there, you parked quickly before practically sprinting inside the emergency room and over to the receptionist seated behind a desk.  

“Can I help you?” She asks.

You look around frantically, “My name’s Y/F/N,” you blurt out. “Josh Dun— was brought here.. or I mean I got a phone call from his mom and sister saying he’d been in a car accident and he was here or that he’d be here.”

“What’s your relation to him?” She asked, typing away on the computer.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you say.

“Right, okay.  He hasn’t arrived yet” she says, looking up at you from her screen.  The ambulance estimated arrival time to be 11:20, so it should be any minute now.  If you’d like to have a seat—“ she motions towards the waiting room, mostly emptied tonight.  

You paced around the room instead, looking out the window, just to give yourself something to do, until you heard the bustling sound of the emergency room doors being shoved open.  

“We need IV fluids stat—“

“I need to get this leg stabilized—“

“Not until we take care of that laceration!”

It’s almost like the whole thing happens in slow motion, because you’re able to pay attention to every single detail being flown through the doors.  There’s three EMT’s, all dressed in dark pants and a blue collar shirt.  Then there’s someone dressed in scrubs with a wind-breaker looking poncho on.  They’re all looking rather frazzled, muttering medical terms that you don’t quite understand.  And then there’s Josh.  You don’t get a perfect view of him, since everyone else is hovering over his body, but it’s enough.  He’s unconscious, his eyes closed peacefully, almost like he was sleeping.  Then you notice the blood gushing out of his temple, dripping into his eccentric yellow hair, almost making it look like the ruby color he had last summer again.  

You have to cover your mouth and bite down on the cloth of your sweatshirt to keep from screaming.  

They keep pushing him along in the stretcher.  Two nurses hold open some double doors and before you know it, he’s being pushed away, out of your sight again.  You run after them all, not wanting to be left in the dark.  Josh needed you.

“Ma’am, you can’t go in there!” A nurse says, holding you back.  You push against him, trying to slip by, but it’s no use.  You’re hysterical and much too weak, so you let yourself all but collapse into the arms of this man instead.

“Where are they taking him?!” you say, a blubbery mess.  

“Our doctors are gonna take good care of him—“ he assures you as he helps you walk back to the waiting room.  You fall into the seat, curling your knees up into your chest and wounding your arms around yourself, just trying to hold it together.

It takes thirty three minutes for a doctor to come into the waiting room to find you.  He’s got a scrub cap and gloves on, which he removes as he walks your way.

“Can I see him?” you blurt out, your eyes full of hope.

“You’re Y/N?”  he asks.  You nod back quickly.  “Not right now, Y/N. He was in a very bad accident. It’s my understanding that the police will be in here shortly to tell you of the details of that, but I’m here to tell you about his medical condition. He’s in ICU now; we’ve got him stabilized. He is in serious condition though; the next few hours are crucial. His right leg is shattered, his arm is broken, too and he has several cuts and bruises; one on the right side of his head.  It was cut by glass, he has twelve stitches right now.  That injury may or may not have caused some trauma which could then potentially lead to some temporary memory loss or amnesia. But what we’re very worried about, is the internal damage. His entire body was bruised, and there was some internal bleeding in his lungs, which is not a good sign. They’re going to prep him for surgery now, to drain the fluids.  After we open him up, we’ll know the extent of the damage,” he pauses, staring down at the scrub cap he has in his hands, before taking a deep breath, “I don’t know if you’re a religious woman, Ms. Y/L/N but if you are, I would start saying some prayers. He’s not out of the woods yet. I’m sorry that I can’t give you better news, but as I said, it was a very bad accident and it’s very serious. But I will personally keep you updated, especially after his surgery,” the man finishes, patting you on the shoulder before he walked out and softly closed the door.

You stare ahead, stunned by everything the doctor said.  It was so much worse than you thought. Josh’s life was still in danger, and the doctor was worried he might not make it. Tears spilled out of your eyes as you stood up and started walking around the room, your hands finding your hair so you could give it a little tug, hoping the pull would relieve some of the fear flooding through you.  You wiped your tears away and tried to clear your throat so that you didn’t sound like the complete wreck that you felt like as you began dialing Ashley’s number.

“Y/N?” She answered right away. “How is he? Have you seen him yet?”

“I saw him coming in—” you said, the tears began stinging your eyes again.  “But not since they took him back.”

“What did the doctor say?” she asked.

“It’s bad Ashley. His leg and arm are broken and he’s got a cut on the side of his head but he’s in ICU and they’re prepping him for surgery because it’s really bad, like internally I guess. There’s blood in his lungs and they said he was stabilized but they don’t know what’s going on inside of his body,” you said, giving up on holding the tears back. “The doctor said we might want to start praying and it’s just really bad and I can’t fucking breathe in this waiting room they put me in. I can’t see him Ashley. I can’t go see him and he’s not okay.”

“Y/N, fuck, please breathe,” she says. Her voice was thick with emotion but it didn’t sound like she was crying. “He’s at one of the best hospitals in the state. They’re going to do everything they can. I’m sorry you’re there alone but we’re catching a flight out soon and we’ll be there in a few hours.  I called Tyler and Jenna, they’re coming too.”

“Okay,” you say, forcing yourself to breathe properly. “Call me when you guys get in.”

“Good. Just stay there.  Josh needs you to be strong. We’ll be there soon,” She promised.

“Get here safe,” you say, “Love you guys.”

“We love you,” Ashley says before hanging up.  

You scroll through your phone, wondering if you should call anyone.  You desperately wanted someone to be here with you, but everyone you considered calling either already knew, or was all the way back in Ohio.  You locked your phone and stuffed it back in your pocket, rendering the whole thing pointless.  

It takes Josh’s family over five hours to get to you.  In that time, you’ve been visited by the doctor twice, telling you that Josh was still in surgery, but that he was stable and they were doing the best they could.  You’d also been to the bathroom twice to throw up, and bitten your nails down to the skin.  

Tyler and Jenna arrive first.  They run through the double doors, hand-in-hand, both with exhausted, but concerned looking faces.  

“Oh my god—“ Jenna says when she sees you.  They both rush over, engulfing you in a hug.  You cling to them, crying into one of their shoulders.  

“We got here first.  There was a flight leaving that had two empty seats.  We told Laura to go, but she refused to leave Ash, Jordan, or Abigail.  What the hell happened?” Tyler says.  

“Fuck if I know! He was in a car accident and they said the police would come in and tell me about that, which they haven’t. I swear to God if he drove while he was drunk I’m gonna-”

“Y/N,” Tyler cuts you off. “Calm down. Breathe.”

You stopped talking and focused on Jenna rubbing your back as you counted your breaths.

“This isn’t real..” you say, as you lean your head on Jenna’s shoulder. “Tell me he’s going to be okay, Ty.”

Tyler sighs, “Josh’s been a fighter since the day both of us have met him. He’s always fought for what he’s cared about.  Music.  The band.  You.  He’s not about to give up that easily. He’s gonna fight through this.”

You let out a broken sob as you used the sleeves of your shirt to wipe tears away. Then you all sat there in silence for a while after that.  

Only a couple of minutes passed when two policemen walked in, looking around the room sadly. “Which one of you is Y/F/N?” One of them asked, looking at you like he already knew.

“Me,” you croaked out, sitting upright on the seat.

“We’re just here to tell you about the accident,” The other said.

“Okay,” you nodded.

“A few witnesses all gave the same story. But uh Mr. Dun was driving when a car suddenly swerved across the center line and hit him head on. The airbags deployed and the cars were spinning until Mr. Dun’s car hit the barrier. The driver of the other car was intoxicated above legal limit, and died at the scene. Mr. Dun was stuck in his car, which was pressed against the barrier, so it took a while for paramedics to get him out. He was unconscious when they arrived, witnesses said he was unconscious when they ran over there.” The first policeman said. “We’ve just printed off the pictures of the cars and the damage. These copies are yours.”

You reached out and took the papers, waiting until the police left before he looked at them. “Oh my god,” you gasped as you almost fell back on to the couch. Tyler helped you sit down before they looked at the pictures. Josh’s car was completely demolished. It looked like a pile of black and gray scrap metal. And you weren’t particularly religious, but you said another silent prayer thanking whatever higher power that Josh even made it out alive, while simultaneously begging for him to make it through the night.

You looked at the clock again, and was about to make some comment under your breath about how long this surgery was taking before the door opened and the same doctor walked in again. You stood up immediately, walking to the doctor. “Well?”

He looked around at the new faces in the room before continuing, “The impact of the collision physically caused a broken rib to puncture a lung. We are in the process of emptying his lungs of any fluid that’s making it hard to breathe. He’s still stable, though, which is good. He can’t breathe on his own, so he’s got a breathing tube. Tonight is going to be a big one, and the next few days will decide a lot, but we’re hopeful. His body is going through a lot, trying to heal itself. It’s up to him now and he has to fight to get better.”

“So that’s all you can do?” You asked, not sure if you should be relieved or not.

“For now. We’ll keep doing what we can for him.”

Dr. Wells nodded. “We put him in a medically induced coma, the body heals best that way, and it lets him sleep through the worst of the pain. As of now, we plan to have him in the coma for a week, but we will keep you updated. You should be able to go in and visit him soon.”

“Okay,” you nodded, not sure of what else to do or ask.

“I’ll come get you when you can visit him,” he promised.

You thanked the doctor before going back and sitting down, pulling out your phone to call Ashley.  You were just ready to ring her again, when her name popped up on your phone, “Just getting ready to call you,” you answered.

“We’re heading over now,” she said. “Is he okay?”

“He’s stable,” you said.

“Okay,” Ashley said, “See you in a few.”

You nearly dropped your phone when Laura and Ashley walk through the doors.  You sprint over and wrap your arms around the both of them, letting them hold you tight.  The rest of Josh’s family filter in behind them, all with tear stained faces and tired eyes.

“What’s going on?” Laura said, wiping her eyes.

Just then, the doctor reemerges.  “Ah, family I presume?”

“I’m his mother,” Laura says, outstretching her arm.  “How is he?”

“We’ve set his broken bones and put casts on, and we’re monitoring him carefully. He’s been stabilized, but you can go see him now,” Dr. Wells said. “Not all of you at once though, please. Just three of you for now.”

Laura nodded. “Y/N and Ash, come with me for now.”

“Laura,” you say, shaking your head, looking at Josh’s dad.

“Go ahead, son,” he says. “I’ll be in to see him soon.”

You nodded, following the doctor, “I just want to warn you, he’s pretty beat up,” he says before he opened the door to Josh’s room, letting the three of you in before he left. You stood frozen at the foot of the bed. Josh looked more than beaten and bruised; he was hooked up to machines and he had an IV running into his arm. The right side of his head was shaved down to the skin where there was a nasty looking cut just above his ear that stretched around the side of his head.

You heard Ashley and Laura whispering quietly to Josh, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. You felt like you weren’t really here, almost like you were just watching a tragic movie play out, but you were brought back to reality when you forced yourself to understand that this was Josh lying in the hospital bed, fighting for his life right now.

Laura walked over and kissed your forehead. “We’ll give you a minute, then send the others in,” she said.

You nodded as they walked out the door and immediately you went to sit in the chair at Josh’s side. “Hi, love,” you said, voice thick with emotion as you entwined your fingers with Josh’s. “Wow, I hate seeing you like this.” you thought about what you wanted to say, although you were pretty sure Josh couldn’t hear you anyway. “You’ve got me so worried, baby. Your mum and dad, Ashley and Abigail, Jordan, Tyler and Jenna.  They’re all here, everyone’s so worried about you, babe. We love you so much. I love you so much, Josh, you’ve got to get better, okay? I want you to fight harder than you ever have before,” you said, looking down to where your tears were falling on Josh’s bed. “You’ve got to get better and pull through, okay? For me. I need you.”

You sat there for another minute, letting yourself cry and hold Josh’s hand. Y

When you walked back to the room, you sent the others in before sitting, curled up on a seta, not looking at anyone else. You sat there for a while with your head on your knees, thinking about Josh and how much you loved him, and how completely fucked your life would be if Josh wasn’t in it anymore.

You only look up after feeling someone’s soft touch on your shoulder.  “Why don’t you head home, love?” It’s Laura. “You need rest.”

You immediately shake your head.  “I’m going to sleep shitty no matter where I am, I might as well be here.”

Laura nods before sighing.  “We rented a hotel nearby,” she says, looking reluctant to leave.  “We’ll be back in a few hours,” she says.

Once they’re gone and Tyler and Jenna emerge from Josh’s room, you head back in, taking the chair near his bed.  “I love you. I love you so much,” you sighed, letting the steady beeping of Josh’s heart monitor lull you to sleep.

When you wake up, it was to a sore neck, the fast beeping of the heart monitor and the door to Josh’s room being thrown open quickly. “You need to leave,” A nurse says as she practically pulled you from the chair and a flood of doctors ran in.

“No, what’s going on,” you asked, suddenly very alert as you saw electric shock paddles.

“You need to go,” The nurse says.

You heard the fast beeping of the heart monitor suddenly turn to a long, steady, beep. “No!” you scream.  “Josh, no!” You push past his nurse before another pulled on your arms. “Don’t you fucking leave!” you yelled. “Josh please, wake up!” The nurses dragged you out just as the doctor ripped Josh’s dressing gown open and placed the paddles on his chest.

You were hyperventilating as you felt strong, somewhat familiar arms around you instead of the nurses. “Y/N,” You heard Tyler say.

“Ty, no,” You cried. “He can’t.”

“No, no, no no no no, fuck no,” you sobbed, collapsing into Tyler’s arms further, “I can’t breathe. He has to be okay!”

All you could think about was Josh, and no, Josh couldn’t be gone.  You clutched yourself around the middle, trying to put some sort of pressure on your body to hold it together.  But it was too hard, so you let Tyler hold you instead while you sobbed into the fabric of his sweatshirt.

It wasn’t until a nurse walked in that you could breathe again.  

“We got him back,” she says, sighing a breath of relief.  

You gasped as you felt air fill your lungs for what felt like the first time in hours. “He’s okay?”

“He’s stable again,” she says.

“Can I see him?”

“You need rest—“ Tyler interjected.  

“I need to see him!” you argue.  “I need to call Laura—“

“What and wake her up too?  You all need rest.”

You finally gave in and rested your head in Jenna’s lap as Tyler threw a blanket over you. You listened to the quiet noise of the TV playing and fell asleep again to Jenna running her fingers through your hair.

The next time you wake up, it was more peaceful. Jenna was whispering to Tyler about something you couldn’t bring yourself to care about. You stretched and sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you looked around. Jordan and Ashley were sitting in one of the chairs on their phones. Abigail was sitting next to her dad on the couch and Laura was by the water cooler.  

The doctor walks through the double doors just then, causing you to become more alert.  “Josh’s been improving significantly since he flat lined this morning. He’ll still be in the induced coma for the next few days, but if he keeps improving at this rate, he should be awake after that. You’re more than welcome to still come visit him, as long as you listen to the nurses,” he said giving you a look. “I will keep you updated, but just know he’ll still be out for a few days.”

They all nodded and thanked the doctor.

The next few days passed faster than you would’ve thought. Josh was slowly but steadily healing, and the doctor finally tells them that he thinks Josh would make a full recovery. You nearly melted with relief. You couldn’t help the nagging in your head that said even if he physically recovered, he still might have head trauma and memory loss.

Josh was starting to look better, much to your relief. His smaller cuts were healing, and the color was starting to come back to his face.

One week after his accident, you, Laura and Jordan were in Josh’s room as the doctor took out the breathing tube, and you all let out a sigh of relief when Josh started breathing on his own.

“We’ve stopped the medicine that’s keeping him in a coma,” the nurse says. “It could take anywhere for a few hours to a few days for him to completely wake up though. This is all up to him now. When his body is ready to wake up, it will. I know this is a hard time to be patient, but I don’t want you to get discouraged if he doesn’t wake up today, okay?”

All three of them nodded.

“Alright, Josh,” Jordan says. “You’ve kept us here for the longest week of our lives. Time to wake up now, bro.”

Josh didn’t wake up the first day, like you’d hoped he would.

You tried not to worry when Josh didn’t wake up the second day either.

By the time it got to the forth day they’d taken Josh off the medicine, you began panicking. “You can’t do anything?” You asked the doctor for what had to have been the thousandth time.

“He’s still recovering and his body is exhausted,” he says, “Give him time.”

You started losing track of the days and time, seeing as you didn’t leave the hospital for two weeks. When you woke up one day, you blinked and looked around to see that the sun had set, but it was still fairly light outside. The room was quiet, except for Josh’s heart monitor. You looked to the clock to see that you’d only been asleep for a couple of hours, but it was still early evening. You rubbed your eyes before you felt the same thing that woke you up in the first place: a slight pressure on your hand that was laced with Josh’s.

“Josh?” you asked, jumping up and sitting on the edge of the bed running your free hand through Josh’s messy hair. “Love, can you hear me?” you tried not to get too excited, but you knew that you hadn’t imagined Josh squeezing it. “Babe, if you can hear me, can you please try to squeeze my hand again?”

You waited and felt the slightest pressure on your hand again. Your eyes filled with tears of relief. You reached up to press the red button to call a nurse in, before you turned your attention back to Josh. “Are you waking up, love?” you asked. Josh squeezed your hand again. “Josh,” you sighed, cupping the side of his face. “Can you find your voice, baby?”

Josh sighed and you saw movement underneath his eyelids, but he kept his them shut as he squeezed your hand again, but for longer. “That’s okay,” you said quietly, afraid of being too loud. The nurse walked in, eyes wide as she looked at Josh and you. “He’s waking up,” you smiled.

She grinned at him. “I’ll go get Dr. Cochran.”

“Do you know who I am, love?” you asked, the question burning in his head. “It’s me, it’s Y/N.”

Josh squeezed your hand again and he made a small noise in the back of his throat that you thought sounded almost offended. You loved that it sounded crazy for Josh not to know who you were.

“He’s waking up?” Dr. Cochran asked.

“Yeah,” you smiled.

“Wonderful. I need you to step back for a few minutes,” Dr. Cochran says.

You hesitate and Josh squeezes your hand tighter than he had yet, but you pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Not going anywhere far. I’m right here.”

“She hasn’t left your side yet, Josh,” Dr. Cochran says. “Don’t think I could get her to leave now.”

Dr. Cochran and the nurse continued asking Josh questions, progressing to see if Josh could feel his feet, arms, legs, chest, hips. Yes, yes, yes. He could feel it all. “We’re going to turn all of the lights off, except for the lamp in the corner, okay Josh? It’s not too bright in here, it wont hurt your eyes. I know your eyelids feel heavy now, and I know you’re exhausted, but can you please try to open your eyes?”

You watched, with his heart pounding heavily as Josh’s eyes fluttered, but his eyelids stayed closed.

“I need you to try a little harder for me, Josh,” Dr. Wells said.

Josh let out a quiet, yet disgruntled sigh as his eyes moved rapidly under his lids. Dr. Cochran looked at you, then looked pointedly at Josh, nodding his head once.

You nodded before going and sitting on the bed next to Josh.  You took his hand in yours again,  “Hey love, it’s me,” you said quietly. “Been waiting here for an awful long time to see you awake again. I miss you. I miss your eyes.  Can you open up for me? Just for a bit, then you can go back to sleep.”

Josh’s eyes fluttered again, then finally opened and you let out the biggest sigh of relief. Josh let out a soft grunt, then let his eyes close again, blinking them slowly before he opened them again.

“I’m right here, baby,” you said softly, waiting for Josh’s glazed eyes to focus on you.

“You’ve been on a breathing tube, which is why your throat is sore.  Don’t try to talk yet if it hurts too much. I’m very glad to see you awake, Josh. A lot of people will be glad. You can sleep now, we’ll do some more tests when you wake up again.”

Dr. Cochran and the nurse left, and Josh’s eyes started drooping immediately. “Your family are here, Josh, I’m sorry they’re not in here right now. They’ll be in here when you wake up again.”

Josh squeezed your hand tightly as his eyes closed and his breathing evened out.

“I’ll be here too, promise.”

The next time Josh woke up was the next morning; Laura was by his side while you sat on the windowsill. The doctor ran some more tests and Josh cleared his throat once before he decided he needed to sleep again.

Josh didn’t wake up again until the next night. You were sitting next to Josh when he stretched out his fingers and you looked up to see Josh looking at you with a small smile on his face. You took his hand immediately and smiled.

“Hi,” you smiled.

Josh cleared his throat and looked over to the small side table.

“Water?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Don’t talk if it hurts too much,” you warned.

Josh shook his head. “Throat feels a little better,” he says. His voice was rough and scratchy, so quiet that you had to strain yourself to listen carefully, but Josh was talking.

You sighed in relief. “Good. You still look out of it.”

“How?” Josh asked.

You smiled. “You just look exhausted.”

“I’m so tired,” he sighed.

You kissed his forehead, “Go back to sleep, baby. I love you so much. Gonna be right here when you wake up.”

“Love you,” Josh sighed before he fell asleep again.

It took three more days for Josh to be awake longer than fifteen minutes, and for his eyes to clear up. By that point, the anesthesia had completely worn off, and Josh was looking much better.

Everyone visited constantly throughout the day.  Tyler and Jenna were in and out and Josh’s entire family had been staying in the nearby hotel for weeks now.  When everyone all finally left at the end of the day, Josh made space on the bed for you to lay with him.

“You scared the shit out of me, you know?” you whispered.

“Will you tell me everything, now?” he asked.  No one had told Josh what had happened, more focused on getting him better, since he was mostly out of it anyway and he wouldn’t remember. But now he was alert, and you forced yourself to open up.

“Car accident. Drunk driver hit you head on and it was bad. The car is completely wrecked, sorry about that,” you sighed. “What was the last thing you remember?”

“I was at the club. We were having a good time, but I really didn’t feel like drinking. I stayed with everyone for a bit, then I wanted to get home to you,” he said. “Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened to the other driver?”

You closed your eyes. “He didn’t make it.”

Josh tensed and squeezed your fingers tightly. “They died?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m sorry.,” you whispered.

“I almost died too?”

“You did for minute,” you said squeezing your eyes shut again, you let yourself inhale the smell of him before continuing. “I was right here, beside you, and you started flatlining.  They had to drag me out and do the whole paddle-thing.  I thought I was going to lose you.  It was the worst minute of my entire fucking life,” you whispered.

Josh squeezed your hand tightly, but you kept your eyes closed, ignoring the tears filling up as you thought about the seconds you thought you’d lost Josh.

“It was that bad?”

“They didn’t think you were gonna make it through the night. I’ve never been so scared in my life,”  you said.

“Babe,” Josh whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault. I’m just scared to leave you alone right now. Don’t wanna let you go,” you sighed.

“I don’t really want you to leave. But promise me something?” he asked.

“Anything.”

“After I fall asleep again, go home. Shower, eat some food, and try to sleep. I love you so much and I’m so grateful to you for being here but you haven’t left the hospital in what?  Three weeks? Ash and my mom will be back soon,  Ty’s here. I’ll be fine. You look like hell, love, and I’m a little worried,” Josh said.

You sighed. “I’ll shower and eat, but I’m not sleeping in the bed without you. I’m staying here until you can come home with me.”

Josh rolls his eyes but nods. “Fine. Thanks for being here. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you sighed.

Blue Blooded (M)

Originally posted by saintminyoongi


Summary
: You’ve been happily married to Crown Prince Seokjin for months now. Or so it would appear to the public. What only you and the palace staff know your shameful secret: you never consummated your marriage.

Member: Jin

Word Count: 8.6k+

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

A/N: Requested by @forever-young-got7! Because Jin really is royalty, isn’t he?

Ever since that night you’ve keep asking yourself. What did you do wrong? Was it the way you looked? Something you said, something you didn’t say? Did he just… hate you?

If anyone had asked you prior to your marriage to Prince Seokjin, you would have never even entertained the notion of him hating anyone. The man just seemed too perfect, not only in looks, but in disposition as well, never one to lack poise, always composed. The few times you and your family had visited him prior to the wedding, he had been nothing but a gentleman.

And certainly it didn’t seem like he disliked you, in fact it seemed to be the opposite, even if there seemed to be some distance between the two of you but you attributed this to the fact that you had not known each other for very long, and had expected things to gradually change once you two had actually wed.

The warm expression on his face as you walked down the aisle gave you a hopeful outlook on what the rest of your marriage would be like. However, it all came crashing down later that night.

Keep reading

lockedinmybody  asked:

daliaaaaa could you tell me your fave sterek fics please?? :)

How could you ask me this? Do you have any idea how many sterek fics I’ve read over the years? How many I’ve loved?

This is a short list of the very few I could think of off the top of my head. I think I’ll probably make a recs page, because I’ve been meaning to for a long time. I have a recs tag, but that includes different pairings as well.


Sideways and Slantways and Longways and Backways

“I called you a slave-driver!” Stiles cried hysterically. “I called you an ogre! I stole all the blue paperclips!”
Derek raised an eyebrow at him.
“That’s company property!” he shouted, waving his arms madly in distress.
Derek ran a hand over his face. “It’s not theft if the vice president of the company gives you permission.”

(Otherwise known as the Elevator AU)

The Price

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Around The Bend

The first time Derek catches sight of the new yoga instructor, Stiles is in the middle of showing a class how to do downward-facing dog. Derek walks into a wall.

Things don’t exactly improve from there.

Derek can’t stop staring at Stiles, the bendy new yoga instructor at his family’s gym. Stiles thinks Derek’s a repressed homophobe who hates Stiles for making him want the D. They fall in love.

can’t be hateful, gotta be grateful

“Be cool, Dad, we’ve decided to con Grandma.”

(Or, the one where the Stilinski men drag Derek to Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma’s and she gets the right wrong idea.)

Keep reading

Lick, Sip, and Suck - A Drarry oneshot

“I beg your pardon?” Draco stared at Weasley, sure that the drinks he had already consumed so far this evening had led him to mishear. “Did you just say the words lick, sip and suck to me?”

Weasley just shrugged and passed shot glasses to both Potter and Granger beside him. They were all crowded together against the busy bar, and Draco scowled every time a stranger bumped into him. He was pretty sure the acrid smell of stale cigarettes had seeped into the fibres of his clothes by now and he would need to throw them away. It was probably in his skin too. He hated this bar. He hated Weasley. He hated tequila and fiestas. He was too warm, too tipsy, and entirely too close to Potter.

“That’s the name of the game Malfoy. I didn’t make it up,” Weasley said as he offered a shot to Draco as well.

Draco stared at the glass skeptically, glanced at Potter who quirked an eyebrow at him, and then grudgingly accepted it. Potter was clearly challenging him and Draco couldn’t just give in.

Keep reading

He’s Dangerous, But Not Around You: Part 3

A/N: This sort of ends abruptly, but if I didn’t end it here the imagine would have been extremely long so I’ll be posting part 4 within the next three days x 

Part 1 Part 2

Masterlist linked in bio


Three months after Harry called off his relationship with Y/n, it was his birthday, and just like every other year for the past five, the boys decided to spend his birthday weekend at Louis’ family lake house. It was one of the few times a year they’d go- only saved for special occasions. It’s secluded, far from the city, but close enough so that it’s not too much out of their way.

Their tradition when it comes to Harry’s birthday weekend has remained the same for years now. A bonfire, a couple of poker games, countless amounts of beer, and occasional midnight skinny dipping. However, this year, the only change in tradition is Y/n not being there.

The second Harry steps foot out of his car, the whole idea of spending his birthday without Y/n makes him feel sick to his stomach. This was their favorite place to be together. They didn’t know why, but something about the privacy and the exclusiveness of it enhanced their relationship in unimaginable ways. They have had many occasions where they would flee from London without a word and spend a couple days alone here. 

The guys scurry out of the car in excitement, absolutely stoked to be back in the grand Tomlinson lake house. Harry sighs, slamming his car door shut before half-heartedly making his way inside.

He can’t blame their excitement when it came to the celebration weekend, however, they hadn’t seemed to notice how off Harry became the first couple of hours upon their arrival. But what else did he expect? He didn’t tell them, he didn’t tell them any of it. He didn’t want to. He knew they knew, anyways, but he had constantly beat himself up, blaming himself for destroying the one thing in his life he felt was genuinely worth fighting for. If he had told them what he did, he would never hear the end of it. He didn’t need anyone else to remind him of how much he had fucked up.

But ever since Y/n had left, something in him changed. He had no desire to fight anymore. Three days after he broke it off, he was worse than ever. Getting himself into numerous fights multiple times a day. It was his way of coping the loss of her, the loss of his only true humanity. However, when the fourth day came, and Harry started to really understand the fact that he was never going to see Y/n again, was when the pain really set in. He felt himself suffocating in a horrendous amount of guilt. 

She had tried so hard, she pushed him harder than anybody else had. Nobody put as much faith in him as she had. She stayed with him in times he truly didn’t deserve it. Hell, there were even days where she was so mad at him that all she could do was yell and yell and yell, and even then she still slept in the same bed as him. He couldn’t live with letting all of that go- letting her go- so he decided to prove himself wrong

It was the biggest fight of his life, the one against himself; when half of him wanted to inflict his pain onto other people and the other half wanting desperately to change himself for the sake of his relationship with Y/n. But he knew he was stronger than the monster inside of him, even though he believed he was weaker. What made him strong was Y/n’s relationship with him, he would stop at nothing to get her back.

It didn’t take Y/n more than a couple days to tell Zayn what had happened. He called her, asking what was going on since Harry had been a complete wreck with no sign of her in his life. She explained, in the best that she could between her harsh sobs and broken whimpers that Harry had left her. He broke up with her, tried to convince her that they didn’t belong together, and eventually confessed that he wasn’t willing to change for her. 

Y/n made him promise not to tell anybody else because she felt that this was Harry’s responsibility, not anybody else. Of course, Zayn kept his promise and never said a word about it to anyone. 

The rest of the guys tried to get it out of him, though. They never forced it, but occasionally mentioned her to see what he would say or do, but he just ignored them. The mention of her name killed him on the inside, and he, truthfully, still couldn’t face the reality that they aren’t together anymore.

To say the guys have been concerned for him is an understatement. Yeah, he’s stopped fighting, but he’s still not the same Harry he was when he was with Y/n. He’s constantly thinking, his mind always somewhere not where it’s supposed to be. He drinks more, too, which used to spike up his anger, but now only spikes up his sadness. He has no motivation to do anything besides stay in his house and dwell on the guilt he’s carried.

Getting him to the lake house is one of their ways of getting him to heal. They just don’t know how much this place kills him, though. God, he can’t even look at a single square inch of it without seeing her in his head. How the hell is he going to get through the weekend?

The boys begin to notice how hurt Harry is when he begins to prepare for the bonfire they planned on having later that night. This is Harry’s first birthday after his break up with Y/n, and instead of telling them how truly heartbreaking it was for him, he avoided that topic of conversation completely. He was already depressed enough, he didn’t need to bury himself in it on his own birthday.

While Harry sets up the firewood needed for the bonfire, he’s distant. He’s distracted, not consuming himself in any of the boys’ conversations. They know Y/n’s already on his mind, she’s the only one who gets him daydreaming.

Harry sighs, lifting heavy piles of wood and constructing them into a setup for later. He’s finished now, has been finished for a while, but he just can’t stop. All he can think about is how Y/n isn’t with him, how she’s probably in her new home, sulking, hating him for ruining her life. It’s his birthday, and she probably hates him.

He sighs, placing his hands on his knees and leaning forward, eyes trained on the ground. He just can’t get her out of his head, no matter how much he tries to distract himself, almost every waking moment he’s thinking about the first time they met.


They were at a party Zayn’s aunt decided to host. It was a casual-formal event, just something special for her close friends to feel welcomed to upon their return to London after being in the states for a while.

Zayn was, obviously, invited. His aunt even insisted on him bringing his best friends, which he probably would have done anyways because he wasn’t too familiar with the family the party was for. The only member he’s ever really talked to was Y/n. She was super shy, very introverted, but was extremely sweet nonetheless. She had talked to Zayn a couple times when they stayed at his aunt’s house simultaneously. Other than that, they didn’t talk much.

“C’mon, you’re just gonna stand in the corner all night?” Zayn approached Harry, a glass of vodka held loosely in his hands.

Harry was pissed he was even in the situation he was in. Social events weren’t his thing, never something he found entertaining. He didn’t care about this stupid family’s return, he didn’t even know them.

“This is the last goddam place I want to be right now” Harry seethed, “I’m pissed off at you for even fucking forcing me here, don’t force me to try and mingle too.”

He let out a slight grumble in Zayn’s direction before making his way to the mini bar. On his way, in the midst of his aggravation, he felt a body collide with his. He groaned, a slight growl in the mix, definitely not in any mood for people to get in his way.

“Watch where you’re-“

“Oh, sorry” the girl gasped, “didn’t see you there.”

Harry’s body immediately froze at the sight of her. She was the most stunning woman he’s ever seen. Her eyes were sparkling with sorrow, lips parted slightly due to the impact. Her outfit complimented her body shape beautifully, leaving him absolutely speechless.

“I- It’s okay” he stuttered, eyes never leaving her, “are you okay?”

She nodded slightly, completely captivated by the most handsome man standing in front of her. God, how he was so beautiful, she would have never known a man like this could ever exist in this world.

“I’m okay” she softly spoke, “thank you.”

Harry insisted on buying her a drink as a way to apologize for not exactly paying attention to where he was going. They chatted for a while, mainly about the party. Come to find out, she was the daughter of Zayn’s aunt’s friends. She hadn’t gone to the states with them, however, she didn’t really make too much of an effort to go and see her in her stay in London.

They were talking quite well, considering Harry definitely did give her an attitude at times and somehow made her feel extremely intimidated whenever he did so. But he had to admit, it was one of the best conversations he’s had in a while, despite his unfriendly character.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Harry finally asked.

She blushed slightly.

“I’m Y/n. And you?”

“Harry.”

“Oh, you’re Harry.” Y/n said quietly, a hint of realization in her tone of voice.

Harry didn’t like the way she said it, as if insulting him in a way. Which, for him, was a bit of a let down considering there was a moment where he genuinely believed she was different.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Harry snapped, his voice somehow rougher and more raspy than how it was before, “Like you’re any better?“

His fierce stare upon her made Y/n feel belittled. When he spoke to her, he made her feel as if her existence was the dirt beneath his shoes. No wonder Zayn had warned her, no girl like Y/n could survive five minutes with such an intimidating man.

“Oh- um- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that Zayn had told me to stay away from you.” She stuttered, her voice barely above a mumble.

She still refused to make eye contact with him, only for the sake of her safety. She was too afraid to look at him now, when his body seemed tense and eyes filled with aggression. She was an easy pray for people like him to feed on- to get a good kick out of.

“I should go” she muttered, “It was lovely to meet you.”

Almost too quickly, she grabbed her bag off the bar and began to make her way back to where she was before. However, before making it too far, she felt a hand grab ahold of her wrist.

He didn’t know why, but when he had seen the fear set in Y/n’s eyes, an overwhelming feeling of guilt set upon him. It was strange, to feel so much of it hit him over one girl’s reaction. He had done this many times to many people, all of which having a moment of complete vulnerability during his encounters with them. But they didn’t necessarily make him feel anything more than the slightest bit of regret.

“Hey” he whispered softly, delicately pulling her back to where he was standing, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Y/n looked into his eyes as he spoke, giving her the reassurance she needed. He was genuine, she could tell, his eyes screamed sympathy.

“It’s oka-“

“But Zayn is right,” Harry continued, slowly letting her arm go “you should stay away from me.”

Before she had any time to react, he had walked away from her.

The rest of the night, Y/n was determined to speak to him again. After meeting him for the first time, she had an innumerable amount of questions she pressed Zayn to answer. Why is he always angry? Is he dangerous? But why was he so nice to me when I walked away?

Zayn explained that Harry wasn’t someone she should be concerned about. All he told her was that he had been hurt one too many times and it caused him to become violent towards those who threaten potential pain. He doesn’t apologize to anybody, and told her that it was quite strange how he had to her.

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about her. He didn’t know what it was, exactly, that intrigued him so much. Besides the fact she was the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on, she was so easy to talk with. She was quiet, and apart of him liked that about her. The moment he hurt her, he just felt so bad, like it was the last thing he ever wanted to see.

Which is why he walked away from her.

When he saw Zayn later that night, he had asked about her. He asked how they had known each other, asked about her life and where she lived. He was determined to know more about her. It wasn’t even that he just wanted to, but it felt like he had to, like he was being compelled to feel this way toward her.

Right as he was about to leave the party, he had heard her voice behind him

“Harry?”

He slowly turned to look at her. She was looking as shy as ever, fingers fiddling together, cheeks blushed, eyes unsure. She didn’t know exactly what she was going to say, but she wanted to try.

“I want to get to know you.” She spoke softly, her hand reaching up to tuck some of her loose hair behind her ear.

He swore his heart melted. The second the words fell from her lips, he was willing to do whatever it took to get to know her.

“I know you said I should stay away from you, but I don’t want to.”


“Harry,” Zayn mumbles, snapping Harry out of his thoughts, “do you want to talk about it?”

Harry didn’t realize he was near tears until Zayn snapped him out of his trance. He didn’t look at them as he returns to placing the logs in piles, contemplating whether or not to disregard his statement or not. Of course he wants to talk about how much mental pain he’s in from not being with Y/n anymore, but he just can’t talk about it. They know that, too, because if he were ready, he would have already.

“Can you stop asking about her, please?” He groans, tossing the last piece of wood onto the top of the pile, “I know you guys know, so please, don’t make me say it.”

He doesn’t bother to look at them, instead, wiping off some of the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his flannel before making his way inside the house to change out of his sweaty clothes. He didn’t want to seem rude, but he’s completely and utterly broken, if he has to be questioned about her again he swears he’ll actually become ill.

Half-heartedly making his way to the bedroom, Harry opens up the duffle bag that sits on top of the bed, that he has yet to unpack, searching through the folded clothes to find his plain gray t-shirt he plans on wearing for later that night. Slipping off his flannel and sliding off the now dirty white tank top underneath, he puts on the t-shirt, throwing the dirty clothes into the laundry bin.

Once changed, Harry begins to unpack the remaining clothes out of his bag. His hands are shaking as he does so, breathing heavy when he sets his clothes down on the bed. His stomach twists with sick at the idea of sleeping in this goddamn room.

This was the first place they made love. It was within the first month of being with each other, filled with beautiful romance and bliss. It was the best night of his life. It was the first time he had touched someone so delicately before. The first time his violent hands spread love throughout her body. He said words he never thought he’d say again. Words that he actually fucking meant, words to express how his once cold heart felt warm for what felt like the first time in his life. 


It was her first visit to the lake house. She had just finished cleaning up the remaining dishes, insisting that even though she was the guest, she had to contribute to the clean up after having a barbecue. Harry was sitting by the kitchen table, just watching her, observing her as she hummed an unknown tune, her hair messily tied up on her head. He could hear the boys playing poker in the living room, which he would have played if Harry hadn’t already planned on taking Y/n out near the lake after she had finished cleaning up.

“Alright, Harry, all done.” she smiled, “Now what was it you wanted to show me?”

She made her way toward his sitting frame, taking a seat right on top of his lap. Combing her fingers through his hair, she planted a delicate kiss on the tip of his nose, making Harry’s face blush the color of roses. He reached his arms around her waist, nuzzling her body against his.

“Hm,” he hummed, kissing the exposed skin on her shoulder, “was gonna show you the lake, but almost considering just cuddling you all night long.”

Y/n smiled as Harry leaned in to press a hard kiss against her soft lips. She breathed out heavily, fingertips moving to caress his cheeks, his unshaved stubble scraping against their pads.

“Gross!” they heard Niall call from the living room, “I call the room farthest from yours!”

They both laughed, Harry rolling his eyes at the comment.

“As fantastic that sounds” Y/n smirked, raking her fingers on his back under his shirt, “this is my first time here, and it’s your birthday weekend. I want to explore it with you.”

She leaned down to quickly peck his chapped lips, which soon turned into a wild smirk. His green eyes looked into her brown ones, his fingers dancing along the nape of her neck.

“I can do that for you.”

Once they were by the lake, they sat in silence together. She was cuddled into him, sitting in between his legs, her head rolled back onto his shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. They admired the nature they were surrounded by, overwhelmed by the feeling of each other’s company under the moon. It felt like a dream, every bit of it did. It was such a surreal moment for them. They didn’t need to speak about anything for a while, being this close to each other, feeling each other’s bodies against one another was enough for them. They felt closer than ever.

They kissed, and kissed, and kissed. So much so that Y/n ended up on top of him. Her legs were straddling his waist, hands roaming under his shirt, nails scratching at his ribs. Harry had his hands all in her hair, as if trying to pull her closer to him, as if it were even possible.  Her lips traveled down to his neck, kissing every bit of the exposed skin. She just couldn’t get enough. They both couldn’t.

“Y/n.” Harry whispered.

“I love you, Harry.” She muttered against his skin.

“So in love with you.“

It was the first time it was said. They both knew they loved each other once they met. Hell, it was obvious. It didn’t need to be said, but she said it anyways. She said it like she meant it, too, like her heart was blooming as she spoke. God, he even felt her tears against his neck. She was so overwhelmed by their love, the words just slipped out in the moment, but oh how she meant them.

In that moment, he was a weak man. He completely surrendered himself to her love. He was willing for it to have all control over him. He made a promise to himself, to devote his life proving his love for her, proving that he will be the man she deserves in her life, not the man he had other people see.

“Y/n,” he whispers again, fingers gliding down her waist, “I’m so in love with you. I always will be.”

That night, once he had taken her to their room, they made love over and over and over again. It was their first time, opening up to each other in a completely different way than they usually did. His lips captured hers perfectly, his hands fit in hers as if they were, quite literally, made for each other. His name became a mantra, her body became a temple. It was an entirely new level of trust. It was a night that they could have re-lived every day for the rest of their lives, easily, with not a complaint in the world.



Fuck” Harry spits, reaching the back of his hand up to eyes in an attempt to wipe the tears threatening to spill.

He can’t sleep in here, there’s no way he could, not without Y/n. Not without her in his arms, not without making love to her beforehand. His bed at home made him sick enough, but here? He just can’t fathom it.

He begins to shove the clothes he’s started to unpack back into his suitcase. He can’t stay in here another minute. He’ll lose his goddamn mind.

While zipping up his bag, he hears the front door open. Niall’s laugh fills the silence in the house upon his entrance, which gives Harry an idea on how to fix his sleeping situation without raiding the couch.

“Niall!” Harry yells, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

Niall makes his way up the steps toward his voice.

“Yeah?!”

“We’re switching rooms!”

“Oh hell no!”

Niall goes into the room Harry’s in, his face strict and serious.

“You and Y/n have fucked on that bed way too many times. I don’t even think you washed the sheets last time you guys did it on there, either. Pretty sure this room has a permanent stench of sex because of you two.”

Harry’s jaw clenches. Normally, he’d have a rational conversation until he got his way, but he isn’t taking this situation lightly. So, instead, he grabs Niall’s wrist harshly, eyes narrowing down at him as he takes a threatening step closer to him.

Niall’s eyes widen as he looks up at him. Not even because a small part of him felt intimidated, but because this is the first time Harry has shown aggression toward anybody within the past couple of months. There is a chance the part he’s been hiding is becoming unleashed, but Niall knows it was easily set off by Harry’s many failed attempts to get Y/n out of his head.

“I don’t think you understand, Niall” Harry seethes, “I may have not laid my hands on anyone in months, but missing Y/n doesn’t only make me sad, it makes me dangerous. I will not hesitate to do whatever it takes to be as far away from this room as possible. Now I will not tell you again, we are switching rooms.”

Niall rips his hand out of Harry’s grip, shaking it around a bit from the amount of pressure Harry was gripping it with.

“Alright, Jesus,” he groans, “but you better wash those fucking sheets. I refuse to sleep in a bed full of sex.“

Harry lets out a breath he was holding in, somewhat relieved that he doesn’t have to be spending three nights in his own personal hell. 

Adjusting the strap of his bag onto his shoulder, Harry slowly nods as he continues to look at Niall. He feels bad for treating him in the way he just did, but the idea of becoming more hurt than he already was is something he wouldn’t be able to live with. 

“Yeah, yeah I will.” He mutters. “I’m sorry, by the way, for that. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I can’t be in this room for another second without losing my mind. I really can’t.”

Niall sighs, slowly reaching up to wrap his arms security around Harry. Being like his brother, he really has felt so bad for what he’s been going through. He can’t imagine the heartbreak, or how he’s even surviving the breakup as well as he has. 

Harry reaches his arms around Niall’s body, hugging him back.

“It’s okay, bud. I get it, you don’t have to apologize. I’ll even wash the sheets for you.”

Harry lets out a slight laugh, shaking his head briefly before detaching himself from Niall and making his way into his room.

Once settled, Harry makes his way down to the kitchen to grab a couple of beers and take some time to himself. If this weekend is going to haunt the living shit out of him, he might as well try to make himself relax the slightest bit.

With a bottle of beer held loosely in his hand, he opens the sliding door that leads to the porch. Leaning his body against the doorway, Harry admires the sun setting on the lake, watching as the wind moves the leaves in small dance.

For the first time since the breakup, he actually feels at peace.

“She broke up with you, didn’t she?” Liam asks, suddenly joining Harry on the porch as he sips on a bottle of beer, slinging his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

Harry rolls his eyes, the accusation of her leaving him must have been the topic of all their conversations. Of course that’s what they thought, it must have been so convenient for them to think Y/n could live a great life without him while he would be a danger to the streets. That’s how much he needed her, but they never seemed to notice how much she needed him, not how Harry noticed.

“Why is everyone so convinced that if we were to ever break up, she’d be the one that called it off?” Harry snarls.

“I was the one who ended it.” He continues, “It wasn’t working out.”

He takes a swig from his beer, eyes still trained on the view of the lake. He doesn’t want to continue this conversation, doesn’t want to relive the night that tore his life apart. Most of all, he doesn’t want to talk about it here, at this stupid fucking lake house, and have to dwell on the pain he wishes he could erase. He doesn’t want to be reminded that he was the one who did this to them.

“C’mon,” Liam sighs, “she was the only thing you had. She was the only one to get this Harry back. You were just afraid she’d leave you first.”

Harry decides not to answer, not knowing how to respond. Of course that’s why he ended it, that’s how he operates. He pushes those away just so that nobody pushes him away. He could deal with anybody else doing it, but if Y/n had left him first, there was no way he’d ever make it through that. Not a fiber in his body doubts that for even a second.

“Have you spoken to her at all?” Liam breaks the silence.

Harry looks down at his beer, circling it in his hands. Why does he keep asking him questions he clearly doesn’t want to answer?

“She said she never wanted to see me again.” Harry mumbles, “I haven’t spoken to her since she left.”

Jesus, Harry.” Liam whispers. “Are you okay?”

Something about that question makes something inside of Harry twist. Is he okay? How can he be okay? He hasn’t seen the love of his life, hasn’t talked to her, hasn’t even heard the sound of her breathing in months. Every part of his body hurts every time he thinks about her because the feeling of being away from her is the most painful feeling in the world.

His life was consumed by her love. His entire world changed when he met her. Nobody else could he lay his hands so sweetly on, could his voice speak so softly to, could his heart swell so greatly for. She changed him, even though he was too scared to admit it to her, she changed him. She gave him hope- gave him a reason to hold onto himself.

Since she’s left, in times when he’s at his all-time low, all he can think about is how his arms felt holding her, how his lips felt kissing her, how fucking relieving and beautiful it was to talk to her, and how he let all of that go.

How can he be okay?

Tears cloud his vision, his hands begin to shake. Oh, God. He thought he was over this. He thought he was over the emotions, he didn’t deserve them. He did this, he caused all this, this was his decision. Yet here he is, again, fighting back the tears that have been so desperate to be released.

“I mean” Harry begins, his voice shaking as he speaks, “I mean, I fucked up everything. I had everything I ever needed and I was the one who let it go. I was starting to think that her leaving me would be worse but now-”

He’s choking back sobs, face wet with unwelcomed tears, “now I can’t stop thinking about how much she hates me right now. She has a home without me, she lives her life without me, she is falling asleep at night without me. And the worst part is that she didn’t want it that way. That was all me, everything is because of me!”

Liam rushes to wrap his arms around him, pulling Harry’s head down onto his shoulder so that he has a place to cry. Harry’s holding him like it’s his ever last bit of hope, almost as if grasping for reassurance for his relationship with Y/n.

“Harry.” he whispers.

“Trust me, Liam, I didn’t want this, either” he continues, words scrambling out of his mouth, “but what else was I supposed to do? And now I’m at this stupid fucking lake house where we talked about getting married and she’s not here with me and I can’t do this anymore!”

He’s completely helpless now. His body is weak, shaking against Liam’s tense frame. He’s in so much pain, so much heartbreak that he’s almost screaming, begging God for some mercy because he can’t take this anymore. The constant thought of her, the constant reminder that he’s never going to see her again rips his heart out every second of every day.

“I just really don’t want to know what it’s like to live another day without her” his voice quivers, “I never do.”

Harry’s wet eyes meet Liam’s sympathetic ones. Liam opens his mouth, preparing to say something, but Harry simply shakes his head. He can’t do this anymore. 

He pats Liam’s shoulder- thanking him for being by his side- before turning around to walk away. He slides the glass door open, walking inside the kitchen to replace his now empty bottle of beer with a new one.

“Wait,” Liam mumbles, “wait, Harry, I have to tell you something.”

Harry stops in his place, slowly turning his body around to look at him. He cocks his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed, seeming confused.

“Y/n- she’s- she’s coming here tonight.”  

“Two Weeks”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: A narrative that explores how Steve copes after your tragic death.

notes: implied character death (reader), a failed attempt at writing sad things

A/N: thank you to @buckyywiththegoodhair​ for beta-reading this mess. i adore you, and god rest this old bitch’s soul.

One week has passed since you left New York for a month-long guest curatorship in Germany. Before leaving, you kissed Steve goodbye and promised to return in one piece.

One week has passed since HYDRA agents infiltrated the museum. They put the entire museum on lockdown, claiming it had World War II documents that were essential to the HYDRA agenda. Even the Avengers wouldn’t stop their mission to obtain these documents, they declared.

One week has passed since a certain HYDRA agent recognized your face from a tabloid, the headline screaming “Captain America Finally Finds Love!” He also deduced your title as one of the United States’ leading experts on Nazi Germany. It was the perfect coincidence.

One week has passed since HYDRA attempted to use you as a bargaining tool. “Give up the documents, and we’ll let you go back to your precious boyfriend,” they said. Much to their surprise, behind your simple dress and ballet flats was a woman not afraid to kick men in the balls, both figuratively and literally. You proceeded to do the latter.

One week has passed since the Avengers compromised the guards and rescued most of the hostages at the museum. Only one remained, but when it became clear that they’re wouldn’t gain access to any of the documents, HYDRA decided to inflict pain in the best way they knew how - by taking away the remaining innocent life.

One week has passed since your tragic death.
One week has passed since Steve Rogers buried the love of his life.

Keep reading

My Fake Boyfriend Part 10

Summary: After receiving a very rude letter of your ex on the mail saying that he is going to get married. You see yourself not knowing what to do, you can just let it go or accept the help of your hot neighbor and pretend he is your boyfriend.

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Words: 2960

Warnings: A lot of emotions, a lot of fluffy and a lot of against

@drinkfantasy thank you so much for being my beta.

You and Bucky enter the church hand to hand. As soon as you step in you have a bad feeling. “Doll, relax, I am here for you and it’s only a wedding, it’s not like you are going to war, trust me this is easier.” Bucky says kissing your forehead, he is trying to be funny but his tone is serious.

“How do you always know what I am feeling?” You ask sitting on a bench close to where your family is. “I pay attention to you, doll. You always bit your lip and you run your fingers through your hair when you’re nervous.” He says putting a string of your hair behind your ear.

Keep reading

Little Witch (Part 3)

Pairings: Peter x reader

Word count: 3 194

Summary: The reader is raised by Hydra but manages to escape after they kill her parents. She is emotionally unstable and can’t control her powers. The Avengers rescue her and give her everything she missed form life and wanted to feel. But would her new found love be enough to extinguish her desire for revenge? What would be the side she would choose to rely on? Will she be ready to face the real her?

A/N: I am so happy how this turned out out to be. Flashback is in Italics:) I hope you like it an please, i am begging you, let me know what you think about the story ♥ Enjoy (Sorry for the mistakes) 

Part 1 // Part 2

Originally posted by misshollander1

Peter was sitting next to the closed door waiting for the mysterious girl to get clean. He had showed her his room because he had a personal bathroom and was the only option he had. He couldn’t get her face when he told her which this room was to out of his mind.

‘Fantastic, she thinks I am a fool now.’ the boy was deep in his thoughts. The usual feeling of nervousness when you think you had messed up in front of a person you wanted to impress was now taken over him. He surely had showed Tony something he didn’t want to with his behavior or the way he was looking at her, but how could he resist? He was amazed not that much from her appearance but the fact she wasn’t a cry-baby but a tough little…witch. He longed for the moment to understand more about her character, what she liked, what her dreams are now and so on without knowing why. Maybe the mysteriousness in her personality was the only thing responsible for this.

‘Come to Earth, Peter! You just met her, you can’t be head over heels about a girl you don’t even know!’

As the boy was trying to convenience himself to stop the unstoppable desires of the soul, a noise came from the bathroom. With his blurred senses he entered the room with fuss thinking about the worse that could have happened.

“Oh my god, Peter! Don’t you know how to knock?!”, the girl screamed as she tried to cover her with the towel. Peter turned around and covered his eyes “You are lucky I am wearing a bra and underwear. I didn’t think you are so pervert and creepy.”

“What, no! I-I just heard something falling. I thought you have hurt yourself, I didn’t want to- bother you or see you naked.”

‘Great! Amazing! If she didn’t think I was a fool, now she definitely does!’

“You already saw what you saw…there’s no need to hide and act innocent.”, (Y/n) retorted. Unfortunately, Peter was thrown in a serious dilemma.

‘If I turn around, this may show her I want to scan her half-naked body…but if I don’t, she will think I am acting just to impress her. What the hell am I supposed to do!?’

As every man, he had to understand the girl’s mind faster and come up with a decision. In his opinion, turning around was the better option, so he did so. As he removed his hand from his face he got stunned. (Y/n) was wearing a bra and jeans given to her from Wanda but the body wasn’t what caught his attention. It was her back.  

“Beautiful, don’t you think?” bitterness and sarcasm was read in her response. Her bare back was marked with a stranger and macabre scar. The letter ‘X’ was carved deep in her skin.

“I-I am sorry, staring at it wasn’t my intention.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Peter. I am not ashamed of it, I don’t wanna hide it.”

“Why do you have it?”, the boy came back to the reality as the girl put a t-shirt on and hide the mark.

“I got it from Hydra. Like I said I was tortured.”, Peter wasn’t able to find any word to say something. He was amazed and angry at the same time by what had been done to this girl at her young age, “Let’s go to the others and finish this.”

“If you are not okay with explaining wha-”

“Wanda and Bruce told me about what they’ve been trough. I know others weren’t in paradise either. Maybe when I tell somebody what exactly happen, it won’t be that hard to bear it on my shoulders. ”

“Here you are, we thought something happened between you two.”, Stark smirked at the teenagers as they entered in the living room. He had a drink in his hand while standing near the huge glass wall.

“Actually, it did happened. Peter stormed into the bathroom as I was changing.”, the girl had crossed her hands in front of her so tried to make a pissed expression.

“That’s not how you try to win the girl, Peter!”, Stark exclaimed.

“What were you expecting from him? He is 24/7 with you, of course he will act like you.”, Nat smiled as she waved at the girl letting her know she can feel home here.

“I-It…I thought she had hurt herself, okay?”, it caused the whole group to laugh, especially when Peter got as red as a tomato.

(Y/N) sat down between Wanda and Nat. She ran a hand through her hair showing her worry. Wanda put a hand on her shoulder saying that it will relieve her and promised that she would feel better. They all waited in silence. (Y/N) didn’t wanted to start mainly because she didn’t know from when to or how. Steve managed to spot it.

“Well (Y/N) if Peter hasn’t scared you and you haven’t change your mind yet, we would like to know how you got possessed by Hydra, and if there are other people like you who we can save.”

The girl took a deep breath and began.

“It all started ten year ago. I don’t remember the date but I all the events after are still remained in my brain. We went on a holiday in Russia to spend New Year…”

1st January, 2007. Moscow, Russia.

The sequential cold day in the enormous and scary Russia. A war had been waged since last year but that didn’t stop the people from celebrating New Year, more precisely the new beginning, the time that would give them hope, strength, and maybe the time when the bloodshed would be stopped.

The clock had gone past 00:00 an hour ago. The people were still roaming through the centre of the capital city too excited to feel fatigue. There were young Russians enjoying the holiday, soldiers protecting the nation, families with their little children playing the snow, old people smiling as seeing their heirs happy. Nobody expected that this happiness will soon be ruined by a woman screaming.

A seven-year-old girl, named (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was holding her mother’s and father’s hands while admiring the splendor view of Moscow. She was coming from a country where snow wasn’t accumulating in such huge heaps like here. She wanted to throw herself into those cold clouds and play.

“Mummy, mummy!”, the girl pulled her mother’s coat getting her attention, “Can I play in the snow?”, the lady kneeled down and smiled at her little girl.

“Of course you can, but after that we will have to go back. And please, be careful.”

The little girl nodded in excitement and ran towards the other kids to play with. The family sat in a bench looking at their precious angel. She was far away but they never left an eye from her.

“Look how happy she is.”, they both were contemplating. The man took his wife’s hand and kissed it causing them both to look at each other for a moment. And that was their mistakes.

“Mummy!”, a shouting kid made them to both look away from each other. All the mother saw was her child token from a man in back and a van that seconds later got away. The woman couldn’t figure out what was happening in the first seconds.

“No! My child! They took my child! No! Save her!”, the lady began screaming. Everything went dead for a moment. The people were staring shocked at the screaming and crying mother. She ran straight to the soldiers and tried to shake one of them. Nobody did anything. The soldiers played as though nothing had happened. The mother was dying from the inside. Her kid was gone. She fell on the ground, her agony splitting the happy atmosphere. Her heart was slowly and painfully breaking, sticking it’s sharp ends in her chest not letting her take a breath.

That night was the last time (Y/N) saw her mummy and daddy. After being put in the van she was anesthetized so no one would hear her screams and weep. The girl woke in an unfamiliar room. She didn’t want to eat. All she desired for was seeing her parents again. But it’s different with kids. They don’t have the strength to do such things till the end. After days she gave up and attacked her lunch like a lion which hadn’t eaten in weeks. This time was the first she actually left the room she woke up into. A young lady had showed her the playground where she met other kids like her.

“Where is mummy?”, the little girl asked.

“She will come sweetheart, only if you do what we tell you.”, the lady gave her a bright smile causing the girl to believe her. The next few months she did what she was told but her mother wasn’t coming.

5th June, 2011.

(Y/N) didn’t believe anymore to the lies that were told to her. She knew her mother was gone, her father no more to be seen. Although she was only eleven, somehow she knew this place was probably her grave.

Since three years the men in white, how she decided to call them, had started doing some experiments with her. At first she didn’t know why and wasn’t resisting due to believing that this was the only chance to see her mummy and daddy again. Years later she still didn’t resist. There was no point.

Her schedule was hooked up in her room. 7am – breakfast, 7:30 – studying session (Maths, Russian, History); 13:00 – lunch, 13:30 – time to understand about your physical and psychological condition (that was how they called all the experiments they did to her, all the pain she felt and the indifferent from the doctors); 19:30 – dinner.

Each day was the same. The only different things were the subject they were teaching. This way of living ended on this day.

This time the experiments were two hour long and the other time was occupied with trainings. The remained children were getting a 4-hour long infernal torture. They began with learning how to use cold weapons. The first lessons were on dummies but the next week they began practicing on each other. Nobody wanted to hurt the friend opposite them. Some of the kids refused and got punished in front of all. They had to see that not obeying leaded to pain, not doing you best was leaded to torture. Since then (Y/n) was coming to her room all in blood, bruises and a hell pain that troubled her movements in the next day. Every night she was finding a first aid kid which she used to heal the wounds. Nobody was showing the kids how to use them, they had to learn on they own. Three kids died because of losing too much blood, from exhaust, from going nuts. Even those events didn’t stop Hydra with her experiments on their ‘rabbits’.

17th October, 2014

“Everything you’ve gone through was to get you ready for the cruel world out there, for the humanity. You are the one that would change the story. You will lead the planet to a better place and will do it with the cost of your life. Wars will be won by you and your names would be taught in the books.”, a tall beautiful woman was standing in front of the 14-year-old boys and girls who were formed in a perfect position. They looked willowier that the Russian army (Y/N) had seen 7 year ago. They were more dangerous with their killing skills. They were the perfect built weapon for Hydra’s plans.

“All the tasks more of you managed to survive had to unlock your powers which we gave you when you came. Everyone has different skills and now you should show us what you are capable of!”, after a cold smile the lady went away. They were in the usual training hall that was transuded with the blood of innocent kids who had lost their self. There was a hidden room where the people were looking at them, to see how they cooperated, how better they were becoming.

In the first day of this new training almost all of them found their power. One was able to get invisible, another one had the strength to break through a wall with his bare hands. Only (Y/N) was standing there not knowing what she can do. She tried several different positions but nothing. Once she got panicked she knew the result would be zero.

Two days had passed and (Y/N) was at the same conditional – no powers found. As she was putting all her efforts in understanding her abilities three soldiers stormed into the room. Two of them caught the girl by her hands and a voice filled the room.

“Ms. (Y/L/N) why aren’t you training?”, the words were spoken slowly and cold. They sent shivers down her spine and she stuttered an answer.

“I-I am doing my best, mister. I-I just don’t think I have powers.”

“Bullshits! You are considered as a rebel Ms. (Y/L/N) and I am sure you know what we do to them.”

“No, no, no!”, the girl began protesting, she kicked them all down in seconds and tried to run but other five soldiers came. She was doing well, observing, kicking, showing no mercy as she was thoughts until one of them punched her in the head. For a moment she lost balance. They took her hands and chained her. One of the soldiers kicked her in the ankles so she wouldn’t be able to stand. Her body weight had to be hold only by her hands. She took a breath and looked up seeing the red symbol of the organization. As soon as she did so, she felt an indescribable anguish in her back. The sound of a whiplash tearing a skill echoed through the room. Her so called friends were looking trying to show no sorrow or empathy.

Ten whiplashing later the familiar voice spoke again.

“I hope you learnt your lesson. If not, the whiplashes will increase with each disobey from you side.”

What was said had been done. The torture had increased and (Y/N) had been whiplashed in front of everyone.

“She is going to die!”, a woman spoke in the hidden room as she and some others people were watching ‘the show’.

“No, she won’t!”, said the leader – a tall woman with short brown hair.

“But it doesn’t change anything. We observed her. She definitely shows no signs of anything supernatural in her.”

“Why the others have and she doesn’t?!”, screamed the leader.

“Her powers are probably connected with her emotions. We raised those kids teaching them to hide, to forget about having feelings. That’s the problem.”, explained one of the doctors.

“So we should provoke her?”

“Yes.”

23th November, 2016

“Don’t you feel pain, Ms (Y/L/N)?”, the voice asked her for a hundredth time.

“No”, she asked calmly as the whip went along her back for one more time.

“Don’t you feel anger towards us for torturing you like an animal?”

“No.”, and with that the action was repeated. The girl was lying. She’s been tortured since two years. They did give her months to recover, to gain strength but two months weren’t enough for her body. The big letter ‘X’ was carved in her body, bleeding almost every night. But that wasn’t the worst. They had begun to manipulate her. Giving her pills, playing with her mind they had tried to made her show any sign of emotion. The girl thought this was some kind of a task that she had to pass. She never let them know she was suffering. She never let her anger out, not even when she was alone.

“Do it how many times you want!”, the girl spoke though her teeth as another whiplash hit her. This time she screamed. She made the mistake to let her feeling out for a moment and when she did, she couldn’t stop, “Do it! You won’t break me! YOU WON’T BREAK ME!”, she shouted and at the same time the windows in the Hall busted. She looked shocked as the people who had now been exposed.

“Finally”, said the leader with a smile on her face, “She showed her spark. Let’s see what her true power is.”

13th April, 2017

(Y/N) was led to a new premise. They made her sit on a chair and tied her tightly to it.

“We saw you have qualities for becoming the best soldier we have ever created.”, the girl didn’t answer, “But something is stopping you from revealing your full potential. Well, for you fortune we came with a decision how to remove this obstacle.”

The room had nothing else expect the chair she was tightened to. One of the walls was made by a Plexiglas or a common material. It was definitely showing another room and when the voice finished his statements a light from the other room showed what was there. The girl’s eyes widen at the view in front of her. There they were. Two well known faces the girl never forgot through her life here. They were the only thing giving her strength, courage to continue, to get through the Hell. Only the hope of seeing them is the reason she was still alive. She smiled for the first time in years.

“You missed them didn’t you?”

And then she came back to reality. Hydra wasn’t going to bring them to her so easily. They were going to do something to them and that scared her.

“Don’t hurt them!”, she screamed, “Mummy! Daddy! I am here! We will get out of here!”

“They can’t hear you.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Show me your powers. Revile them!”

“I-I can’t! Don’t you understand, I CAN’T!”, she shouted, tears rolling down her face. She didn’t want to lose them, not now.

“You don’t give us another option. Enjoy the show.”

(Y/N) tried to untie her but her body wasn’t that strong as before. The tortures had weakened her. She screamed as loud as she could in order her parents to hear her. The girl was raging by now. She had to help them, she had to save them.

“Nooooo!”,she screamed as the way her mother did 10 years ago. With those emotions the ropes fell down on the ground black. She looked at them confused. Somehow she managed to burn them but now it wasn’t important. She ran towards the Plexiglas wall and started hitting it but nothing happened. Suddenly two soldiers appeared next to her parents. Her mummy and daddy were about to ask what was happening when out of a sudden they got shot in their heads. The girl fell on the floor at the same time her parents did.

“No!”, she was soaking quietly while looking her parent’s blood spread in the floor, at their eyes, which never saw her again, “Nooo! No! NO!”

Her rage unlocked. She fell the air getting hotter. Closing her eyes she let her feeling overwhelm her.

Part 4

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Persistence

content: Dean feels uncomfortable with the flirting attempts by the cashier at the grocery store, but thankfully Castiel comes to his rescue – though seriously not the way Dean expected.

word count: 2,174


Dean really doesn’t like visiting the small grocery store in Lebanon right at the town’s center.

And thankfully most of the time he’s got other options – mainly the big supermarket next to the highway –, but once in a while he’s got no other choice due to time issues or saving gas or whatever else might come up.

And it’s not like the store itself is crappy or something. No, not at all. It may be small, but it’s got everything they need, even Dean’s favorite brand of beer. Hell, they even sell those awesome chocolate brownies you can’t find nearly anywhere anymore!

So yeah, it’s a nice enough store.

But there’s a big problem – the cashier who seems to live in that stupid shop!

At least Dean’s got that impression since she’s always there when he walks through the door, smiling at him so broadly as soon as she spots him as if the only purpose of her life is waiting for Dean to arrive at the store.

Her name is Stacy and she looks like seventeen although she reassured him many times before (by emphasizing Every. Single. Word.) that she’s old enough to drink – while at the same time giggling like she just shared a juicy secret and fluttering her eyelashes in a way she probably thinks seductive. Her flirting attempts are countless, clumsy, awkward and leave Dean highly uncomfortable.

But she never stops.

Dean can’t help admiring her persistence a bit. Not even hints that he could easily be her father age wise made her back off. Dean tried being nice and polite about it and used grumbles and grunts a few weeks later when his maturity hadn’t been very effective, but nothing seems to impress that girl. Every time Dean starts to talk and attempts to make himself clear she simply sighs deeply and gazes into his eyes or checks out his ass, not at all interested in what he has to say.

It’s infuriating.

Even the apocalypse hadn’t been that annoying.

Keep reading

Not An Athlete (3/?) *Lance Tucker x Reader*

Originally posted by talkinboutmyimagination

Summary: You’re forced by your Athlete parents into taking a summer job, which becomes your full-time job as you balance university. Only the asshole you work for and help realises how much you do for him. He don’t like that, he don’t like you. Welcome to the world of Athletes, Lance Tucker is your tour guide. (I suck at summaries.)

Warnings: Explicit content, later on. Swearing, body shaming/ degrading language from Tucker. Asshole Tucker (I’m talking straight up rude.)

Part One - Part Two


Your mum once gave you advice, it wasn’t exactly handy advice at the time and you didn’t really understand why she gave it to you in the first place but you still took it in, still often think about it because it’s some good advice. She once told you that if you ever have an argument with your partner, you should go for a long drive, no destination and no one else just you. It’s meant to help clear your mind, let you drive your feelings out and really think about what was said and what you want to say. You’ve done that, many times, over mostly friends but it worked.

You can’t say it’s working well for Tucker. The closer you got to Las Vegas the angrier you become, the more irrational your thoughts got, you were white-knuckling the steering wheel as you glared at the welcome sign to Las Vegas. You have no idea, how in the hell, Lance got your number and what possessed him to phone you; doesn’t he have friends? A girlfriend? One of his booty-calls that could’ve picked him up?

You pulled up to Caesar Palace, it was a little much. The fountain, the valet that gave a judgemental look at your old Volvo. The outside, although grand, couldn’t compete with the interior design of the palace. The marble floors, the gold lining and decor, and the columns: it was breathtaking. You walked to the reception, oil paintings behind the gold-mirrored desk, everything just screamed pretentious but yet, it was impressive. You pulled the denim jacket you wore closer to your body, the woman grinning from ear-to-ear at you.

“Hello, welcome to Caesars Palace, what can I do for you this morning?” Her name tag stating that her name is Sara.

“Hey, I’m here to pick up a guest, I don’t know what room he is in or if he’s under his name,” she nodded as you looked utterly dumbfounded, “the name is Lance Tucker and he requested me for pick-up, for some reason.” She nodded as she typed onto a keyboard, looking at a screen.

She picked up a phone just beside her and dialled a number, grinning at you as she waited for whoever to pick up the phone, it’s a few short, awkward, seconds of silence. “Hello, Mr Tucker. This is reception calling, a guest is here for you, a young female.” You tap the counter absent-mindedly. “Should I send her up?” is the next question, “she said you were expecting her, okay, I’ll be sure to do so.” Sara puts the phone down, “he’s in one of our penthouse suites, in the Palace Tower, I’ll have someone escort you.”

You followed a young male, a bell-hop, through the building. You had only ever seen pictures of Caesars Palace, it was bigger than you expected, at every turn, there was something to look at and admire. Pools and spas, plus showrooms and obviously, casinos; no wonder Lance came all the way here. You were shown right to the door, where he swiped a keycard and let you in, telling you to enjoy your stay.

The penthouse, well, it was bigger than your entire apartment. It had a balcony the size of your kitchen, bigger from where you were standing. Black marble floors, the furniture looked brand new, and it had its own kitchen; not that you expected Lance to be cooking whilst here since they have Gordon Ramsay’s Bar & Grill. You could see it went off in three different directions; you looked down one hallway, seeing a door slightly ajar, hoping that Lance was somewhat decent you walked down towards it. 

You pushed the door open, it was dark with the shutters down and a body was laid in bed, you assumed it was Tucker. 

“Tucker, wake up!” You yelled and heard him grumble his reply, a muffled ‘fuck you’ being thrown in. “No, get the fuck up, I didn’t drive all the way here for you to treat me like shit. Get up now!” You flicked the light switch on, you could just see his brown, messy hair from under the plush duvets before you walked back out of the room calling his name again.

You sat on the barstool when Lance finally emerges, eyes still half shut and squinting against the bright lights, his hair a mess and only grey sweat pants that were hanging low on his hips; how the hell was they staying up was a good question. His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at you, he blinked rapidly as he sat on the cream sofa.

“Why the fuck are you here?” He asked, voice still hoarse from just waking up and scratchy from whatever drinks he consumed last night when he texted you.

You sighed with annoyance. “Of course, drunk texts, I shouldn’t have bothered. You text me asking for me to come get you, you threatened my job.” He was still frowning before he sighed, head falling into his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. “Why did you call me? Don’t you have friends to come get you? Aren’t they here with you?” You glanced around, looking back at the hunched over Lance.

“You’d be the only one that would actually show up, you need your job,” he muttered, “it was an easy bribe.” He lifted his head, hands covering his mouth as he stared right at the blank flat screen TV. “I drank a lot last night.” He sighed to mostly himself.

You crossed your arms, “I’ll bite the bait,” he looked at you with an unreadable expression. “Why did you need me to come pick you up, you’re in Las Vegas, isn’t this your ideal hunting ground?” His lips curved up at that comment but set back into a frown; he slouched against the back of the sofa, arms crossing over his chest.

“…I came here for an event, it’s kind of a big deal but…” he trailed off, a look you haven’t ever seen on Lance before, well, he never really showed anything but a smirky confident idiot. This was different, by far, it was shyness and embarrassment. “My parents are here, celebrating my father, forty-six years of being in the sports industry.” An edge of bitterness harshened his words, he wasn’t looking at you but you could tell he felt vulnerable; exposing a side of him like this.

“Isn’t this meant to be a fun occasion? A party?” He rolled his steely blue eyes at you, chuckling lightly at that.

He shakes his head, “You haven’t met my parents. You hate me, you would loathe them, I can’t stand the bastard and my mum isn’t any better. I guess, last night it got to me.” It’s silent, “You should probably go. Before they get back, don’t speak of this, to anyone. Got it?” 

Before you can answer that the penthouse’s front door opens. A couple walks through, talking amongst themselves, the older male looks a little like Lance but the woman looked a little young to be his mother, maybe his sister? 

The male had slicked back, dark hair, and piercing, hooded eyes with a grey suit. He was old, obviously but he was tall and very lean, clearly he still kept in shape despite his age. The woman beside him was small, tanned and young, you could say, younger than you! She was skinny, really skinny but had great… assets. You weren’t one to judge but you felt insecure in front of this girl. 

Lance’s P.O.V

“Harry, you’re up.” Lance froze on the spot at the sound of his father’s voice, he glanced to you for a moment before turning swiftly around and meeting his father’s piercing gaze. “I’ve come to collect you for lunch, your mother has arrived and insisted we all gather,” he didn’t sound to keen on the idea, not that Lance was but, at least he could stand to be around his mother.

It takes a few seconds for Lance to remember how to speak, “Uhh yeah, it must’ve slipped my mind,” he runs a hand through his hair messily before turning back to you. “I was just saying goodbye to my…friend, then I’ll get dressed.” He nods for you to stand up, beckoning you quickly to the door before you could be roped into his messed up life.

“And here I thought you’ve changed,” Lance’s father began and made you stop in your tracks, Lance sighs heavily. “Why can’t you find a nice girl, instead of these groupies, life isn’t about alcohol and fucking, Harry.”

“Spare me the lecture, you’re the one that cheated, not mum.” Lance snapped back, “she isn’t a groupie either, she’s… working for me,” he doesn’t have to look at you to know how uncomfortable you are, he can feel it.

Harry Senior, shakes his head. “Hookers don’t work for you, Harry.” Lance hears you scoff at the mention of the word hooker, he wants to laugh, he’s been with and seen hookers; you were definitely not one of those.

“She’s not a hooker, babe.” Sabrina, his new wife smiles, “that’s his girlfriend, obviously. He didn’t want you to know, meeting the parents is always scary, look at how protective he got over her.” Lance watched as his dad’s posture changed, straightening his back as he glanced you over, analysing you and Lance didn’t like that.

“That’s quite the accusation, he hasn’t had a girlfriend in years, is she your girlfriend?” The stare he received after the question had Lance stammering for an answer, apparently, the word ‘no’ no longer existed.

“Yes, she is.” Lance found himself saying in a moment of weakness, “I…-” he’s cut off by his dad, who walks around him and to you, extending a hand your way.

“Harry Tucker, the third,” you look at Lance over his father’s shoulders with wide eyes, raised eyebrows and a look of shock. “This is my wife, Sabrina.”

Lance watches as you shake his dad’s hand in silence for a few seconds, “Uh-I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” His dad stares at Lance, as you hug Sabrina, his eyes are piercing through him almost. He recognised that look, the same look he received when he won that silver once; disappointment and disgust. You weren’t good enough for his son or maybe, that’s just how his dad looks at him, neither answer would surprise him. 

“You should accompany us to lunch,” Lance already begins to excuse you from that awkwardness, “nonsense, I insist. She must meet your mother, get dressed, we’re leaving in twenty minutes.” Harry nods before opening the door and leaving with Sabrina behind him.

It’s silent as Lance watches the door close, not really believing what had happened just now, it only becomes reality when you start yelling at him. He didn’t really have any excuse other than his dad scared the shit out of him, he could never form a sentence around him and he was always intimidated, even as a child; the way his dad would glare if he messed up, you’d think he would have become the perfect son.

“I don’t know what just happened,” Lance admitted quickly, “he’s just really intimidating sometimes, I couldn’t think and… you should’ve left when I told you to.”

Oh, so it’s my fault.” You asked, E/C eyes full of rage, “I didn’t come here to play your girlfriend, Lance, or should I say… Harry!” You poked his chest firmly, he slapped your hand away with a slight glare. “Fuck, Lance, I can’t stay here. I can’t have lunch and meet your parents, this is insane. You have, to tell the truth,” you panic to him.

Lance exhales slowly, biting his lip as he thinks everything over. “Okay, listen, I can’t tell my dad I lied. He’ll give me the lecture, it’s one weekend, one lunch. I’ll… pay you!”

“I’m not pretending to be your girlfriend, Lance Tucker.” He rolls his eyes, “you know how stupid this sounds? One day ago you couldn’t stand me, now I’m here being asked to be your fake girlfriend and get paid…this is ridiculous,” Lance crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “How much?”

“How much do you want?”

Lance watches as you debate a little with yourself. “I’ve got to buy new books, at least, four hundred dollars worth.” Lance frowns, “I don’t want to ask for too much and have you laugh at me for it.”

“I’ll round it up to five hundred, think of it has compensation. You don’t mention this to anyone, got it? Last I need is you running your mouth,” you shrug and Lance finally looks at you for real. You’re in a denim jacket plus blue skinny jeans, your hair up and hardly any make-up, you’re pretty but not dressed correctly. “You got clothes with you? Like a dress?” You shake your head and he sighs.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” You place a hand on your hip jutting it out with a sour expression; your attitude was going to be a problem too but he couldn’t fix that. 

“Everything, you can’t have lunch with my mother and be dressed like that,” he walks off and towards his room. “I’ll have the hotel send something up, what’s your size?” He turns and looks at you, “nevermind, you’re like a ten. Do something with your hair,” he slips back into his room, hearing you follow behind him.

**

Lance paces in front of the walk-in wardrobe doors, hearing you grumble to yourself about the dress and him, mostly him. He hated that you were roped into this, his life, it was embarrassing and humiliating. He tried, so hard, to remove himself from his home life because of his father. The man was cold, cruel and manipulative, everything that Lance tried to not be but ended up being like his mother; competitive, in every sense of the word and egotistical.

Growing up with Harrison Tucker as a father was torture. Lance had to be like him, he had to be a great athlete, the best. Even that isn’t good enough; he wins one silver amongst his many golds and instantly he’s a failure.

“So, you’re name is Harry?” He hears your voice through the doors.

“Yeah, after my dad and his dad, and his dad before him.” Lance rolls his eyes, crossing his arms, “It’s like some stupid tradition, my middle name is Lancelot, my mother liked it and I decided since there’s already one Harry Tucker on the scene.” He explained leaning against the wall as he waited for you.

It’s a few silent seconds. “And the woman beside your dad… guessing, not your sister.”

He laughed loudly. “No, definitely not. My parents divorced when I was sixteen, he was messing around with a young gymnast, of age, not that it mattered. Anyway, Sabrina is his third or fourth wife. My mum always turns up to his awards because she thinks it’s important for us to still be a family, she’s twisted that way,” He shrugs to himself, “she was always better at business relationships than actual relationships; I rarely see her outside her office,” he trails off and stares at the wall ahead.

“That sounds rough,” he hears the doors slide open, “explains a lot about you, to be honest.” He rolls his eyes and glances at you, raising his eyebrows. “What’d ya think? Will this fool them now?”

Shamelessly he let his eyes trail over your body, he may still hate you, but he wasn’t one to pass up the opportunity of appreciating a female’s body. The bodycon dress was a royal blue, off the shoulder and mid-length, it fit you perfectly, a little too perfectly. When he, finally, let his eyes drift back to yours, you were glaring a little, only making his cocky grin grow.

“I’m setting rules,” he raised an eyebrow at that, “No getting too handsy; an arm around the waist is my limit, Tucker. I am not kissing you, ever, even being your fake girlfriend. Are we clear?” You asked sternly, he shrugged a shoulder in reply, “No, are we clear? I can leave, right now and not help you. I guess, your father already told your mother that you have a girlfriend, so are we clear?”

“Fucking Christ, we’re good. I don’t want to kiss you anyway, even faking it.” He watched as you rolled your E/C eyes at him, brushing a piece of Y/H/C hair behind your ear. “Let’s go, they’re waiting for us.”

He leads you out of the door and to the elevators, a nervous fluttering happening in his stomach. He always got like this when having to be around his parents, it was heightened a lot more with you next to him, having anyone meet his parents was sickening. He always avoided it, never told them when he had girlfriends because they’d run for the hills; if it wasn’t because of them getting fed up his arrogant ways, his parents would chase them off, for sure.  

“I’m nervous,” you admit to him and he scoffed, hiding his own behind the facade he built himself. “I’ve never had to meet someone’s parents before.” He frowned and looked down at you, you didn’t look at him, eyes remaining on the elevator doors. “It’s only for lunch, I’m actually a good actor, I got an A for theatre in school.” You mainly told yourself.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked abruptly, you finally looked up at him but the doors open before you can answer, people waiting for you to walk out. He sighs gently and escorts you through the crowd and towards the outside pool, where his parents are meeting for lunch.

The sun shines on the beautiful pool, people splashing and swimming around, more sunbathing on the loungers. His eyes land on a table by the bar, his father and mother sat, not talking as Sabrina yaps away about something uninteresting. His eyes connect with his mother’s, who smiles brightly and she hadn’t changed a day. She had aged, grey hairs that were mostly caused by the stress, blue eyes like his and an infectious smile- like yours- he shook that thought away.

“Lancelot,” she called and waved, standing up and walking to him. He met her with a hug, you trailing behind. “Look how you’ve grown,” she grinned looking at her son, “you look so handsome, of course, my genetics.” He chuckled at that, “I’m angry with you, by the way,” she tells him and he frowns. “I had to hear from your father that you’ve got a girlfriend! Hello, dear, I’m Erin.” He rolls his eyes as his mother pulls you in for a hug.

“Harry wasn’t supposed to meet her, she came as a last minute thing for me,” Lance explained, only being ignored as his mother fusses over you with a happy smile, taking your hand and leading you to the table. He trailed behind helping both, you and his mother, into chairs before sitting beside you.

It was awkward as his mother ordered more drinks, a sly comment of her drinking habits from his father, this was going to be the worst experience of his life. 

“So, how did you two meet? I want details.” His mother grins and Lance chokes a little on his drink, shit, he hadn’t thought about the questions she would ask.

(I had to cut this because it became too long, that’s why it ended kinda choppy. Anyway, I got this idea from my friend Amber, my original idea has altered, meaning instead of ten chapters it’s gonna be around twenty; thank her for that lol. Let me know what you think, so far. - Rosalee) 


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