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#guess who's basically hyperventilating over this man

evaneddiebuckleydiaz · 3 months

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so i had a dream earlier during my nap, and i really need to write it down or something because when i woke up i went feral (i really should be asleep 'cause it's 12 am and i have to get up at 6:30 but here you go).

It's been a week for Eddie. Work, Chris' school schedule, and these odd, reoccurring dreams about all of his loved ones dying, one by one. First Chimney, then Bobby, Athena, Maddie, Hen, Chris, and just today, Buck. And what do you know, Buck was right outside of Eddie's room on the couch, and had to be awake when Eddie awoke at 3 am, screaming 'Buck!' and hyperventilating. And that night, Eddie really was thankful for the fact that his kid was somewhat popular, being at a sleepover with his best friends. And, to be honest, Eddie didn't really know what to do when he woke up. He was either gonna go get Buck, cry, or have a panic attack, he guessed, although Eddie Diaz "wasn't one to panic".

______

"Go get 'em cowboy." Eddie said, patting Buck on the shoulder. The other man turned around and smiled at him that beautiful, bright smile, showing off all of his pearly whites. God, did Eddie love that man. He was just so perfect, so sweet, so handsome, so...Buck. A few minutes later, Buck was at the very edge of the ladder, looking up at the sky. Eddie couldn't hear or see Buck say anything, but he saw the sky turning blue in that one spot above Buck and thought, "What the heck is that?" It's like Eddie blinked and Buck was dangling in the air and he was on the ground. His back hurt and was probably bruised, but he didn't care. He only cared about Buck, who wasn't moving. Buck, who looked lifeless by the way he was being put on display for everyone on the ground like some kind of animal. "Buck!", was the next thing Eddie heard coming from himself. His throat was gonna be wrecked later, but he didn't care. He had to make sure Buck was okay, even though he probably wasn't by the looks of it. "Buck!", he called out again, now climbing up the ladder at his highest speed, which was pretty difficult with the fact that it was raining. "Buck!", his voice cracked, he slipped, didn't fall though. "Buck!", he kept going, finally reaching the top of the ladder. "Buck! Can you hear me? Buck!", he yelled, trying to pull Buck's rope up to him, trying to get Buck back on the ladder. But the rope started going down, started lowering. "No, Buck! Can you hear me? Buck! Buck!", no response. He kept pulling and the rope kept falling, falling, until- SNAP! The rope broke and Buck fell. For a moment, Eddie wanted to follow him. Throw himself over the railing too. "Buck! Buck! No, Buck!", he yelled, screamed for his best friend. Even with the loud noises and rain pattering all around him, he still could hear the heavy thud when Buck's body hit the ground. "Evan! Evan, no!", Eddie screamed, voice cracking, grip on the rail weakening. He felt his knees buckle, and felt his body hit the ladder. He was sobbing now, rain mixing with tears. "Buck."

______

Eddie awoke with a loud gasp, immediately bursting into tears. "Buck!", he sobbed, calling out for his best friend. He heard a thud hit the floor and heard mumbling, then loud, running footsteps following after. "Buck.", he whispered, tears rolling down his face and sobs taking away his breath. Eddie was shaking now, on the edge of his bed. His door burst open, and he fell with a loud thud. Buck basically leaped over the bed, trying to get to Eddie as quick as possible. "Hey, Eds. Eddie. Eddie! Listen!", but he couldn't. Eddie couldn't move, couldn't breathe. His chest felt tight, heart beating too fast for his liking. "Eddie, you're having a panic attack."

Buck automatically knew what to do since Eddie wasn't cooperating. He grabbed Eddie and placed his head over where his heart was to get the man to listen to it, to match it, to breathe. Eddie had stopped crying now, but the panic attack was still going. "Eds, I need you to listen to me, okay? I need you to breathe." Eddie took in a shuddering breath, and a few more, finally calming down a little. "Good. Good, just breathe, baby. You're doing so good." The pet name slipped out, but Eddie couldn't help but smile. After a few more minutes, Eddie was calm, Buck now holding Eddie safely in his lap, rubbing his back with both hands.

"Wanna talk about it?" Eddie shook his head. "Okay, but what happened? Did you have a bad dream about me?" Eddie nodded. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"You died."

It was quiet, but loud enough for Buck to hear it.

"We were back at the call where you got struck, and I tried to pull you back up on the ladder, but you fell, then..."

Buck only squeezed Eddie tighter.

"I'm sorry. But you know that it was just a dream, right? I'm right here, baby. Right here." Eddie was so giddy and warm now, but he was enjoying this moment too much to move, so all he did was smile to himself.

"Baby, huh?"

Buck froze, the hands on Eddie's back stopping. "Buck, if you like me, just say that."

"I love you, Eds. In that way."

Buck lifted Eddie's chin with two fingers, locking their eyes. "I love you too, Buck."

And oh, my God, Eddie was kissing Evan Buckley. The man he'd been pining over for more than two years.

The kiss was soft, tender, passionate. It was everything Eddie thought kissing Buck would be like. Buck pulled back, Eddie definitely not being bothered one bit. "Yeah. I love you, Edmundo Diaz."

"Well I love you too, Evan Buckley." Eddie kissed right over Buck's heart where his head rested and got up, reaching a hand out. Buck got up as well and they both got into the bed, immediately tangling themselves up in each other like it was a routine. Eddie kissed Buck's birthmark, then smiling into Buck's neck. "Talk tomorrow?" Asked Eddie. "Yeah. Talk." They shared another kiss and were out after that.

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #eddie and buck #eddie and buck being in love #buddie pining

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reallyromealone · 1 year

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FORTUNE TELLER 11

Part 10 🔮 current 🔮part 12

Warnings: sexual abuse, panic attacks, drugging, self harm, cross dressing

🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮

Koko smiled as he and Sanzu were left alone with their little dove, poor (name) fiddling with his fingers and tried to make himself as small as possible under Sanzus piercing gaze "you can't go out today but that doesn't mean we can't have fun in here" Koko said almost lovestruck as he sauntered over to the seer "and we can have fun, can't we?" His question was rhetorical but (name) nodded in fear of what could happen and Koko just grinned "good boy"

Surprisingly, Kokos version of fun was fairly tame.

Fortune telling with cards.

(Name) was just thankful it wasn't him doing the fortunes.

"You can't tell your own fortunes so let me tell you yours!" Sanzu wanted to put a bullet through his skull but didn't say anything as he glanced at (name) who looked a little curious about the tarot cards before him "you never got your fortune read before?" Koko asked as he saw the look of confusion that was painted on (name)s face "well who knows, your fortune could be fun!"

(Name) didn't know how that could even be possible given his current situation but who knows.

Maybe this place will burn to the ground with them all in it.

Koko seemed giddy as he let (name) shuffle the cards "now pick three cards and set them face up the way you lifted them"

(Name) tentatively placed the cards from the top of the deck onto the table"w...what do they mean?" He asked softly, jolting slightly as Sanzus hand made it on his hip, rubbing circles and teasing the others waistband.

"Hmm let's see... Oh my" Kokos eyes were wide as Sanzu rested his head on (name)s shoulder, breath tickling his ear "what is it?" He asked with a raised eyebrow "his future will basically freedom of the unknown... Oh no wait it's a future of bondage and tragedy" Koko said passively and Sanzu grinned, his scars reminding (name) of devil horns "bondage... How fun"

All (name) could think of is that this fortune basically spat in his face that he could never be happy.

He could never be free.

Sanzu recognized the look that washed over (name), that was the look he had before he freaked out.

Tears rolled down (name)s cheeks as his nails dug into the palms of his hands to the point of blood shed "don't worry starlight, we will make it all better"

That made it worse.

(Name) began hyperventilating as Sanzu pulled him close and in one fell swoop used pressure points to (name)s body to force his body to relax, in his hazed and panicked state be could hear Sanzu tell koko to grab the cocktail.

Shit.

He had to be calm, fuck fuck fuck!

He could feel the needle press into his neck and within minutes his body felt numb "you were doing so well too..."

Sanzu was surprisingly gentle as he cleaned up the wounds on (name)s hands, wrapping them "now, Koko has a surprise for you" Sanzus grin was manic as he lifted Bontens beloved up up and over to the sitting room where Koko had a bunch of expensive bags and such "don't worry, we can still have loads of fun!" Koko said pulling out something (name) definitely not agree to with a sound mind, Sanzu grinning at the piece.

RIIIING

"Speak" Sanzu hissed into the phone as Koko took his sweet time taking off (name)s shirt, the white haired man kissing (name)s temple as (name) swayed around to a non existent song.

"Koko, the king wants (name) at Bonten headquarters"

Koko sighed and out (name)s shirt back on "I guess dress up with have to wait till later"

(Name) never touched sunlight, the two making sure no cops could even get a glance at (name).

It would ruin the surprise after all.

The other six Bonten men looked happy, even Mikey looked less...well Mikey.

(Name) was placed in Mikey's lap, head lulling on the others shoulder as Ran walked over with dental putty "open wide angel" ran said as Mikeys fingers opened up (name)s mouth and the sight had no right being erotic to Ran but it did.

Mikey pressed (name)s jaw closed to get the imprint "you stole my mouth...." (Name) slurred with furrowed eyebrows once ran removed the putty and plastic piece "don't worry starlight, we just copied your teeth"

"Why...?"

"Don't worry about it, here have a macaron" Kakucho pressed the cookie to the others lips and watched (name) munch on it "so what did the little stoner do?"

"Koko read his fortune for fun and he lost his shit at the fortune" Sanzu said simply "he was doing so good too, well at least now he is more compliant"

"Hey, (name)" Mikey said softly, catching the others attention and (name) sluggishly turned to look at him "sleep" he said kissing the corner of (name)s mouth before applying pressure to a pressure point and watching him go limp.

The summer air felt nice around (name) as he stood on a balcony looking out to the street.

"What are you doing out here?" Mikeys voice rang out behind him and wrapped his arms around (name)a waist in a loving embrace and (name) gently touched the man's white hair, the strands soft between his fingers before gripping tightly and in one fell swoop pulled them both over the railing.

(Name) smiled as his body made impa---

Naoto wanted to vomit as he looked at the charred body before him.

All the markers fit (name).

But... Something wasn't right.

It didn't add up, why go through all that effort just to kill him.

"The tests came back, it's not a match" the mortition said to the detective "the teeth are fake, it almost fooled me but it's resin"

"Then that means he's still out there"

He would save (name) or so fucking help him.

(Name) no longer left the building, they kept him locked away like a decorative doll.

Something for their eyes only.

(Name) expected them to use him again, why wouldn't they? He's practically a cheat code for them.

They brought people to him, had them bound and gagged as they did mundane things like eat breakfast and Bonten acted like it wasn't tense, talking away as if a beaten man wasn't half conscious at the table with Rindō tasing him every so often to keep him awake.

(Name) tried not to make eye contact with the man whom he had yet to be introduced to, trying to think of anything else.

They dressed him in traditional women's clothing, high quality garments and had him sit either in their laps or on a cushion on the floor as they did things.

It was incredibly dehumanizing and it took everything not to throttle Mikey, he had witnessed Mikey's strength when someone tried attacking the blond.

It was horrifying.

"It's time starlight" Rans voice rang out once they finished eating, practically forcing (name) to eat these days.

Ran held (name) seemingly with so much care and love as he led him to the victim, (name) was no longer allowed to wear gloves after scratching Koko in a fit of panic.

The headaches post reading got worse.

He thought his head was going to explode at this point.

God he just wanted it to end.

Naoto had people watching the building he's seen Bonten frequent the most, waiting for any sign of (name) so he could get a warrant.

He was so close he could feel it.

It was never going to end, was it?

(Name) had done three readings today, now he lay on Mikey's bed, the silks freezing as Mikeys room was always cold.

The drugs made it impossible to fight back with anything, including Mikey's advances.

Nothing could get rid of... Of what Mikey's done to him.

What they all had done to him though they hadn't...done that yet.

Thank god.

They had a makeup artist come in, doing (name)s makeup pretty and making him unrecognizable "were going somewhere special, to many eyes in Tokyo trying to gaze upon you" Kakucho said softly to the semi drugged man, (name) staring at him with a cold expression as he wasn't drugged enough to be giggly and loopy.

He just struggled to formulate proper sentences and was very hazy and wavy.

There was an issue in the garage, a cop tried bugging it so they had to disguise him to take him outside, making him look like a beautiful woman to throw people off.

It was pretty convincing too.

"So behave, good boys get a reward"

Bonten had a compound Osaka, having it converted to be an ornate cage for sweet (name).

(Name) was brought down via elevator, Takeomi keeping a hand on his hip and Ran had an arm aroud his shoulder.

Naoto knew his plan would work.

He knew what he did would force Bonten to bring (name) outside, the criminals dressing (name) up as to smuggle him without issue as (name)a face was plastered on missing posters around Tokyo and besides...

Naoto could recognize those eyes anywhere.

That was (name).

Rindō noticed Naoto speed walking closer and sighed, pushing (name) into the first car as he, Mochi Sanzu and Koko stared down the detective "can we help you detective? We're quite busy" Koko said condicendingly as he clicked the car door shut.

"Who was that?"

"Who was who?"

"That person!"

"Detective, I don't have time for these games" Koko said with false exhaustion "we have places to be, now if there's nothing more to say" Koko said shutting down the conversation and Naoto gritted his teeth as they drove off.

Rushing to his car, Naoto wasted zero time following the two black SUVs that contained (name).

He wasn't going to lose him again.

He owed him that much.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #bonten x reader #male reader #bonten x male reader #angst #abuse

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frankiensteinsmonster · 5 months

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VENT POST About my Job don't mind me

🥰🥰🥰 reporting my dickwad manager for fucking yelling at me for rules I did not know and causing me to have a panic attack so bad my entire body hurt and I almost passed out

All he had to do was be normal and tell me to put my phone and headphones away even though I had worked basically my whole shift, meeting multiple Other managers and having zero fucking problem

But instead this man who's never interacted with me before. Ever. Decided to fucking yell at me with no context and then when I had a panic attack, hyperventilating and nonverbal, has the fucking Audacity to crowd around me and try to ask me what's wrong and shit?? Eat shit.

And when some other managers (??) came over to help me, bc I can't fucking breathe and I'm shaking and shit. THEY have the fucking nerve to vouch for him and be like "ohhh he's not usually like this! Ohhh he thought you were trained and knew the rules, we have some people who are really stubborn and so blah blah blah" and I was like?????? I've never spoken to this man in my Life, I don't even know his Name. If this is the way he treats people that needs to change across the board. That's Not how you talk to your employees!!!!!! I told them I was incredibly disappointed with the treatment I received from this dude and asked them if they had training on how to handle disabled employees and they said they didn't know like HUH?? That was supposed to be rhetorical but now I guess you should suck my dick because that's Fucking Bullshit what do you mean you "Don't Know"??

And tHEN these people start trying to warn me about another guy who's particularly stern and I'm like??? So this is something that happens often enough that there's specific people you can point to and good These Folks Are Rude and they're In Charge Of You. Fuck off! I'm reporting that I'm not going to sit here making a dollar and change under the living wage where I live getting treated like shit at a basketball game where I was Doing My Job Just Fine. Fuck you I'm NOT doing this shit. Fuck you, I literally don't know what else to say. You don't get to treat me like this, you don't get to treat Any employees like this. You don't own any of us. I have a panic disorder. And maybe?? Make sure you ask someone something more than once before you decide you're fucking pissed off that them. You dick.

#vent tag #vent post

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itsapeterthing · 3 years

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Green || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: three times bucky realized you were more than a friend and the one time he finally admitted it (based on events from tfatws)

a/n: finishing this in time for the season finale tomorrow! reblogs and/or replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of reader wearing a short dress, jealous bucky

masterlist || request || taglist

“Nice of you guys to call me.”

Your hands in your jacket pockets, you announced your presence as you strolled up to the group of four men standing outside of the police station. You could basically feel the tension in the air as each man had a resolute expression written on all over their faces.

“What’s going on here?” You asked, slipping your hands out of your pockets and gesturing towards the group.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked.

You might have been nicer about the situation if you weren’t utterly pissed that the two men hadn’t informed you about the mission that they had gone on.

“Incase you forgot, Sam, you’re not the only one who’s had to pick up where someone else left off. It’s my job to keep track of you guys.” You said. “... Also I’m Bucky’s emergency contact.”

“Well,” The blonde man leaning against the police cruiser said. “You’re a little late. I handled it.”

Looking up at the man in front of you, you gave him no inclination of defeat.

“You must be John Walker.” You said.

“So you’ve heard of me?” He smirked.

You crossed your arms, stepping away from the man who you had seen on television playing the role of Captain America. You had heard about the decision moments before the government had first displayed the impersonator on screen, but it had been too late for you to do anything about it or to inform Sam or Bucky in time for his appearance.

“I’ve heard of everyone.” You deadpanned.

“Yeah?” He asked, standing up straighter. “And who are you?”

Just as you were about to open your mouth, you felt Bucky’s hand land on your shoulder. Turning to glance at him, you watched as he shook his head, giving you a serious look. Despite the fact that you were now tasked with keeping track of the former members of the group of Avengers and were one yourself, you had been able to keep your identity a secret. Although to the world you were “Sorceress”- the Avenger with magical powers similar to those of Wanda Maximoff- to members of the team such as Bucky you were Y/n Y/l/n.

He didn’t trust John Walker and he didn’t want to bring you into their own mess. Although Bucky had been avoiding Sam’s text messages, Bucky had kept in constant touch with you since you first met him after he had come back from the Blip six months ago- even going as far as spending time together multiple times a week in person- not because you had to keep track of him, but because the two of you genuinely enjoyed spending time together.

You were the closest thing he had to normalcy and he didn’t want the knockoff version of his best friend messing it up not only for himself, but for you too.

However, you didn’t see much of a way out of it. You weren’t going to just leave Bucky and Sam to handle the situation on their own, but you also didn’t see a way that you could work alongside them and not have John and Lemar figure out your identity sooner or later.

Gently taking Bucky’s hand off of your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before dropping it, you reached out your hand to John Walker.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” You told him. “Sorceress... and I guess the current caretaker of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier.”

Later, after the group had dispersed and you followed Sam and Bucky as they walked in the opposite direction, you were surprised when you heard Bucky’s tone of voice when he finally spoke up again.

“You shouldn’t have given him your name, Y/n.” He said.

You shrugged, hands tucked into your pockets once again. “It’s fine, Buck.” You assured him. “There wasn’t much else I could do. He was going to find out eventually-”

“Don’t act so casual about it. This is your identity- your life- and you’re just going to share it with some asshole like John Walker?”

“Woah!” You exclaimed, stopping in your spot. “What’s your problem, Buck? Why do you care so much?”

Noticing how both you and Sam were staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to comprehend why he was making such a “big deal” about it, Bucky grew embarrassed, not understanding himself why he cared so much. Rather than admitting defeat however, Bucky threw up his hands, scoffing.

“Forget it, Y/n. I don’t care. Do what you want.”

And with that he picked up the pace, walking in the opposite direction of where you and Sam stood confused in your spots.

“I couldn’t have worn something- I don’t know- a bit longer?” You called to the three men ahead of you, following them into the club as you tugged on the hem of your short dress.

“This a club in Madripoor, Y/n.” You heard Zemo say. “If you wore anything else you would be giving us away.”

Groaning you steadied yourself in your heels following behind Zemo and Sam. You slowed your pace to walk besides Bucky who had insisted on being at the back of the line behind you- telling everyone that it would be safer for everyone if he kept their backs covered.

“How are you feeling?” You asked as quietly as you could in the loud club.

“What?” He asked.

“How are you feeling? With the while Winter Soldier thing? If you don’t think you can handle it we can find another way-”

“It’s fine, Y/n.” He said. “Don’t worry about me.”

Instead of letting it go, you gently placed your hand on his exposed, vibranium arm, causing him to stop in his spot, looking at you.

“Bucky, I’m serious.” You said. “You matter too. If you can’t handle it, I’ll find a way to get the information without all of this, okay? I care about you, Buck. Just say the word.”

He almost couldn't focus on the words coming out of your mouth as he tried to keep his eyes focused on your face, rather than trailing down your body, finally noticing just how short the dress that was adorning your body was. As good as you looked in green, he swore he would kill Zemo once he got what he needed from him for dressing you in that.

As gorgeous as you were, however, your words meant everything to him and he hung on to every single one- no matter what you were saying. Hearing the sentiment that you had for him and that you would stick your neck out for him of all people made him speechless.

Just as he was about to open his mouth however, the two of you began to feel the eyes of other partygoers staring the two of you down. As soon as you noticed, you quickly snatched your hand away from his arm and continued your pace in front of him, Bucky quickly following behind.

“Distracted?” Zemo asked as Bucky stopped beside him at the bar.

Rather than answering, Bucky remained silent, falling into character with the thought of your shared interaction still playing over and over in his mind.

Coughing on his hands and knees, trying to process what had just happened, all Bucky could hear was the obnoxious sound of the alarm blaring. When he opened his eyes again he saw the shipping container now consumed with flames and illuminated with a daunting red light. Recalling what had just occurred, he scrambled to his feet, calling out for you.

“Y/n?” He called. “Y/n!”

When he didn't immediately hear your voice, he began to feel his heart race in his chest. What if something happened to you? What if you were too close to the explosion? He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if something had happened to you. Just as he was beginning to start hyperventilating, the smoke catching in his chest causing him to double over and heave, he felt your hands wrap around either of his biceps.

“Buck?” You asked. “I’m- I’m so sorry. It happened so fast I couldn’t get a forcefield around everyone. Thank God you’re okay. I was so afraid something happened-”

Cutting you off, Bucky shook your hands off of his arms, instead pulling you into his arms. Although you and the super soldier had spent more quality time than you could count together prior to starting this mission, you had never hugged before, but being in his arms you couldn’t find a single complaint, instead silently wrapping your arms tightly around his torso, running your hands up and down his back.

“Hey it’s okay, Buck. I’m okay.” You said. “Let’s go, okay? Before this thing collapses on us.”

After that the two of you had followed Sam and Sharon into the area of shipping containers, taking out hitman by hitman along the way, when you had finally gotten through all of them, you watched as Zemo pulled up in a car besides the four of you.

“Nice ride.” You said as Bucky slipped into the front seat of the vehicle, yourself sliding into one of the seats in the back row.

“Thank you, Y/n.” Zemo replied, patting Bucky on the chest. “She’s a woman of taste.”

Bucky swore to himself for the second time within the past 12 hours that when given the chance he was going to kill the man beside him- with or without his therapist’s approval.

“You’re not going to move your seat up are you?” Sam asked.

“Nope.” Bucky said.

“That’s fine.” Sam conceded. “I guess I’ll just chill back here with Y/n.”

You laughed as Sam laid his arm against headrest of the backseats of the car.

“I’m fine with that.” You said. “Just me and my favorite person.”

Now Bucky knew that you were kidding, only teasing him to get a rise out of him, but glancing at the backseat and seeing Sam’s arm practically around your shoulders and you calling him your favorite person... just didn’t sit right with Bucky. Just as Zemo’s foot was about to hit the gas, Bucky shifted the car into park, swinging the door open and stepping out of the vehicle.

“What-”

“You can have the front.” Bucky said, swinging Sam’s door open.

“It’s really okay, Buck-”

“You said you wanted more space so you can have the front.” He said. “Go sit in the front.”

You watched as Sam turned to you, quirking his eyebrows before shrugging and stepping out of the car, switching to the passenger seat. You almost wanted to laugh as you watched Bucky squeeze into the backseat behind the passenger seat, his knees practically up against his chest.

“You good?” You asked.

Despite the groan that had involuntarily escaped his mouth from the discomfort of the front seat digging into his knees, Bucky nodded, stretching his arm out across the backseat, behind your shoulders.

“I’m great.” He assured you. “Now drive, Zemo.”

Although you didn’t catch it, the two men sitting in the front seat- despite their differences- couldn’t help but throw each other a knowing look before the car took off for their next destination.

“Hey!” Torres called. “I see you got your sleeve back!”

You chuckled as you turned to glance at the man stood beside you. Despite it being a joke, not a single hint of a smile cracked the man’s hard exterior. The only reason he didn’t walk out of the room on the spot was because you were standing beside him.

“He’s just in a bad mood today.” You said, reaching your hand out to shake Torres’. “I’m Y/n.”

Taking your hand and shaking it in his, he furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you doing hanging around these guys?” He asked. “...Not that you can’t handle yourself! Sam just won’t even invite me on these things.”

Pulling your hand away from his, you smiled. “Think you can keep a secret?”

As soon as you asked the question you watched as the confusion written all over his face grew even more and you could hear Sam chuckling in the background.

“I’m Sorceress.” You said. “Like the Avenger? I just try to keep my identity pretty secret, you know?”

As soon as you revealed your identity to him, you watched as the man’s face dropped and he turned to look at Sam who was standing behind him.

“Wait- she’s-” Torres stuttered.

Sam nodded, laughing.

“Yep.” Sam said. “She’s the one you’ve been hounding me about setting you up with.”

Although you weren’t paying attention to him, Bucky had already disliked how the conversation was going- finding Torres to be a little too friendly for his liking and not loving that you exposed your identity to him immediately- but when he heard Sam’s confession, he stiffened in his spot, hands balling into fists at his side.

“What? Dude!” Torres exclaimed, glancing back and forth between you and Sam before finally turning back to you, chuckling nervously. “He's just kidding! I would never have a crush on you- wait! That came out wrong! Not that you’re not pretty because you are- I just think you’re cool-”

You continued laughing as the man stumbling over his words in front of you, finding it endearing until you heard the super soldier scoff beside you. You glanced at him only to see him cross his arms while rolling his eyes before making his way out of the room.

Turning back to Torres you gave him a quick smile, pulling a card out of your pocket. “I have to go, but it was nice to meet you Torres. If these boys get in trouble again, make sure to call me first thing, okay?”

He took the card from your hand, nodding. “Uh yeah- yeah! Of course!”

With that you waved to both him and Sam before following the path Bucky had taken out of the room seconds before.

Seeing his figure pacing across the room, you threw your arms up in the air.

“What’s your problem?” You asked.

Stopping in his spot he turned to face you.

“What?” He said. “I don’t have a problem.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, crossing your arms.

“Uh yeah. You do.” You said. “Did I do something to piss you off or something? Are you mad at me for coming on the mission? Because I’m sorry if I wanted to help save the world and make sure you guys didn’t get killed in the process.”

Bucky just stopped and stared at you standing across from him with your arms crossed. He hated to admit it, but you look pissed at him. It hurt knowing that you were upset with him, but it hurt a little more knowing that you felt as though he was mad at you when in actuality that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Y/n.” He said, stepping closer to you. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why did you just storm out of the room?” You asked.

He couldn’t think of a reason besides the truth. He could lie and say that he was mad at you, but that wouldn’t solve the situation for anyone and could possibly strain your relationship farther- and that was the last thing he could possibly want.

The two of you stood there in silence, staring at one another as Bucky attempted to find the words in his head to ease your concern without exposing himself in the process.

But you were never one to back down with him.

“Bucky,” You said. “What’s the problem? What did I do? Why are you so angry-”

“Because I don’t like the way that guy was talking to you!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air.

“What?” You asked. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky realized he was in it now. He couldn’t see a way out of it.

For the past week, Bucky couldn’t help but notice that he cared for you a bit more than friends should. Maybe he always did. He thought back to the times he would eagerly await your weekly lunches or the comfort he felt when you took him furniture shopping after seeing his empty apartment for the first time. He thought back to the times you would show up outside of his door when he was upset because you were the only person he trusted there with him in those intimate moments- he knew that you were more than just his colleague, but he realized now that you were more than his friend.

Recently it became more obvious, the burning in his chest he felt when others became a little too comfortable with you- he attempted to mask it with just wanting to protect you, but he knew you could handle yourself. He was protective over you so he wouldn’t lose you.

Just when you opened your mouth to speak again, he cupped your face in his hands. He watched as your eyes widened, but didn’t make any move to stop him. When he caught your eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips, he pulled you towards him, meeting your lips in the middle.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t kissed anyone in eighty years, but he had never felt the way he had in that moment before. He was so utterly consumed in you- the feeling of your hands reaching for his jacket, tugging him closer as you deepened the kiss, your soft lips against his, your warm breath against his face- he was lost in it.

When you finally pulled away, he didn’t want to let go, but leaned back anyway, staring at his world- you- that he now held in his hands.

“Buck...”

“I think I like you more than a friend.” He confessed.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face at his words. You had always cared for Bucky as more than just your former fellow Avenger, but knowing that he felt the same as you was something you could hardly believe.

“I think I do too.” You laughed, then recalled what you had come in there for in the first place. “James, were you... were you jealous?”

Thinking back over the past week the two of you had spent together on the mission, he could almost laugh at the question you had just asked.

“You’re joking, right?” He chuckled. “Yeah. You could say I was a little bit jealous.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes drabble #bucky barnes blurb #Bucky Barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes angst

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divinerulerluvr · 3 years

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The Evan's With a S/O Who is Uncomfortable With Sex

Warnings - sex mentions, the title is self-explanatory pretty much

Tate, Kit, Kyle, Jimmy, James, Kai, Jeff, Colin included :)

A/N - As an S.A survivor who hates the idea of extended contact, I figured I'd write this for people like me. This is also kind of just uncomfortable with touch in general, too. GN!Reader, btw.

TATE LANGDON

- Wouldn't understand why at first. - And probably think it was just because he was the problem. - Would apologize profusely while under the idea that he was the issue.

"I'm sorry. I-I didn't know," he rushes out, stepping back from you as his cheeks flush red.

"It's not you, Tate. It's just... i don't like it,"

He stares at you for a second, basically hyperventilating as he gets over the rush of fear that he messed up.

- In the end, would comfort you. - And is totally respectful of your boundaries.

KIT WALKER

- After telling him, he'd quickly understand. - Very mature about it, too.

"It's not you, i just hate physical contact like that," you finish explaining to him. He nods, taking his hand off of your thigh. "I know. I get it, baby," he assures with a smile.

You sigh in relief, having known he was going to be respectful but still appreciating how kind he was about it.

- Would do anything in his power to learn your boundaries and not cross them. - Doesn't pressure you or anything, of course. - A stand-up gentleman about it.

KYLE SPENCER

- Another one who wouldn't get it at first. - He had the notion that all girls liked to be touched so it took a few minutes to sink in.

"I really like you. I just... i'm not ready for that kind of stuff. At all," you tell him, afraid he would react negatively. He shakes his head, placing his hand on yours.

"It's okay. I understand. You don't gotta explain anything to me," he says.

You smiles, comforted by his hand on yours.

- Holds back from all contact unless you give approval of it first. - Treads very carefully with that, too. - Always afraid he'd do something wrong at first. - But soon gets it.

JIMMY DARLING

- He's just a gentleman. - Asks your boundaries the moment you tell him about how you don't like sexual things.

"So what are you okay with?" he asks with genuine care. "Um, hand holding, brief hugs, platonic touches, kisses obviously," you list off for him, glad he cared this much.

He nods, making a mental note of what you had just told him. "I'll try," he says with complete conviction.

- Easily obeys these boundaries. - Remembers what you like and dislike easily so he doesn't mess up. - Makes sure you're always comfortable with touches before doing them.

JAMES PATRICK MARCH

- Is completely lost at first. - Asks a ton of questions. - Crap like "Why?" and other intrusive questions. - But not in a negative way, he's just curious.

"Bad experiences, i guess," you answer nervously, not sure if his questions were out of the good of his heart or if he was mad that you wouldn't have sex with him.

He nods, his brows drawn in subtle confusion. "Did somebody do something to you?" he asks.

"James," you say, wanting him to stop with the questions. "Sorry, dear. I let my invasive curiosity get the best of me," he says, kissing your cheek gently.

- Tries to obey your boundaries but fumbles up sometimes. - When he does do something you don't like, he freaks out and apologizes like crazy.

KAI ANDERSON

- Let's be honest here, he wouldn't care. - Kai is a dick. - Therefore, wouldn't even bother respecting you. - But you deserve better. - Never let a man disrespect your boundaries no matter what they may be. - There's always a man out there willing to treat you with care.

JEFF PFISTER

- Would be confused. - Him loving sex, he doesn't get why you wouldn't be okay with it.

"It's just my preference. You aren't mad, are you?" you say, looking at him with a careful gaze. He shakes his head. "No. 'Course not. Just kinda confused, you know?" he replies.

"But you're fine with it right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he says, almost offended by why you thought that in the first place.

- Even if he can be a little too careless, he's always careful to not break your boundaries. - Treats you amazing, though.

COLIN ZABEL

- Immediately understands. - Doesn't even question it.

"That's fine," he says, sitting back from you. You smile, happy he could be so okay with it.

- Always asks if something is okay before doing it. - Makes sure you're always okay with something. - Doesn't make you feel bad about not wanting to have sex, either. - Rare find, right?

Taglist: (ask to be removed if you would like) @just-some-lesbian @evanmybeloved @sallyscigarettes @arsenicbruise @auricgold @billyhxrgrove @liandav @peanutbutter-y-jams @ellamaianderson @mossybank @kaiscumrag @spookybitch @anisabb @xmaximoffic @copy-of-a-cheeto @cursedandromedablack @marynlangdon @tatesimper @mrspetxrs @im-verysad link to be added to the taglist here https://forms.gle/CfYyEsXsvTJAFpDf9

#ahs #evan peters #kai anderson #tate langdon #american horror story #kit walker #james patrick march #fic #headcanons #fluff #kind of

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byunbaekby · 4 years

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title — a clouded fate pairing — badboy!mark lee x female reader featuring — lucas wong/wong yukhei, johnny seo, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta (mentioned), lee donghyuck (mentioned) word count — 17.2k overall warnings — extreme drug use, drug dealing, alcohol use, language, religion, addiction, drug overdose, vomiting, one explicit smut scene smut warnings — fingering, protected sex (stay safe, always!), high sex, corruption kink for like 0.2 seconds, degradation collab — bad boy bingo collab, link here lyrics inspiration — “call it quits, call it destiny.” bruno major, easily ; “gotta stay high all the time, to keep you off my mind.” tove lo, habits writing playlist — link here

author’s message — oh my gosh, it’s finally here! this has been a work in progress basically ever since early summer, when i started writing on this blog. this is one of my favorite pieces i’ve ever written, but not because writing it came easy to me; quite the opposite. i scrapped and rewrote this three times, consulted many people for their opinions because i simply didn’t think that it was good. a few thank you’s: my babe @jensungf for reading the first draft when it was at barely 5k, the lovely @ncteaxhoe for reading it at 7k and also the night i finished it, @taempteng the writing god for proofing it for me, and my amazing @starlit-jeno for getting me through everything. also thank you @legendnct for hosting this collab! it’s finally at a place where i am happy and very very proud of what i’ve written. i hope you all read and enjoy!

—DAY ONE.

The ice cold water thrown over him shocks Mark awake from his post-high sleep.

“What the hell, man?” He exclaims, wiping the water from his face as he sits up in his bed, soaked t-shirt sticking to the curve of his clavicles. His eyes meet the source of the intrusion: his roommate and best friend Lucas, holding a now empty pitcher.

“Dude. It’s past noon. Wake up.”

Lucas’ passive words only make Mark furrow his eyebrows in annoyance. “Shut the fuck up bitch, I’m awake.”

“Someone’s feisty today.” Lucas retorts, tossing Mark a towel as he swings his legs over the bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he recognizes his best friend’s chastising tone in his diluted ears. “When did you get back last night? What were you doing?”

“Calm down,” Mark groans, the volume of Lucas’ voice beginning to hurt his head. Running a hand through his now wet hair, he responds, “I was smoking with Yuta. Got back around three in the morning.”

“Yuta,” mumbles Lucas. “You know, I don’t like him. You’re always with him, getting high or something. Exams start soon, and you’re not planning to study at all? You’ve been high every day for what, like, the past two weeks?”

This early morning lecture is enough to cause Mark’s irritation to spike. Since when is Lucas so nitpicky? Last time he checked, Lucas enjoys partying just as much as he does. Sometimes, even more than Mark himself. “Fuck, are you my roommate or my mom?”

“I’m your best friend, is what I am. I’m worried about you. All you do is party, get high, and sleep. When was the last time you even ate?” Before Mark can even think back to answer that, Lucas continues, “You’ve been like this since you broke up with Y/N, and—”

Mark cuts him off. “Don’t say her name.”

“You’re hurting, Mark. And this isn’t the right way to handle it.”

“Oh, so you take one psychology course and you think you’re an expert or something,” Mark scoffs.

This seems to stunt his roommate for a second, before he sighs looking down at the image of his best friend sitting on the edge of his bed, gaunt eyes and all. The last time he saw his friend looking so pitiful was when his dad had passed. “I’m just worried about you. You should let me be, sometimes,” replies Lucas quietly.

“I’m an adult,” says Mark, which causes Lucas to scoff and respond, “Then act like one.” Annoyed, Mark stands and instead takes a seat at his desk chair.

The taller male speaks up once again, starting to tear off Mark’s bed sheets that are now wet. “You need to stop. This isn’t good for you. Stop the drugs and tell Johnny you’re done. Study for your finals. Get your act together, stop acting like an idiot, and go get her back.”

When he finishes stripping the sheets and looks up, Mark’s head is in his hands. “It’s not that easy.”

“You love her.”

“But that doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together,” Mark finally says as he looks up, voice raised in frustration at both the situation and the fact that his best friend is calling him out for it. “We can’t be together,” he declares. “I’m only going to ruin her. She’s good. I’m bad. She has a future. I don’t. She’s everything I’m not and I can’t mess it up for her. Not after... Not after—” Lucas cuts his friend off, sensing that he’s about to start hyperventilating.

“I know. What happened, you can’t change it. It was your fault. But don’t say you’re not meant to be together. Nothing’s going to change the past. You broke up. But nothing’s going to bring you back together but yourself.”

Mark stares at Lucas with tired, red-rimmed eyes, wondering when his tall goofy friend had grown so much. Has everything around him changed, matured, while he stayed the same?

“How do I do that?” He finally relents.

“Make yourself good enough for her. Start with the drugs. Stop doing them.”

He knows the truth in that statement, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it. It’s a lot easier said than done. With no words to say, Mark stands and starts to walk past his friend toward the bathroom. On the way out, he accidentally kicks his guitar, on the floor propped on the wall. “Fuck,” he curses, looking down at the old wooden thing.

Lucas follows him out as he leaves the room, and Mark steps into the bathroom. Opening the mirror cabinet, he pulls out his prescription bottle which shakes with noise. Silently he pops a pill into his mouth and swallows it with a handful of tap water. It’s probably a bad idea on an empty stomach, but he’ll eat whatever Lucas is making right after.

“That includes the Xanax, Mark!” Lucas’ voice calls from the kitchen.

“Baby steps,” he responds, staring endlessly into the pitiful character watching him in the mirror.

—THE FIRST NIGHT

It isn’t his first party, but it’s his first college party. There’s a big difference.

The scale is larger, the alcohol more plentiful. And more importantly, the shame of being under the influence is nonexistent. His ziploc of kush feels heavy in his pocket, but he knows he’ll feel lighter with its effect later on. School’s only been in session a week, yet Mark’s already decided he likes university more than high school.

He hasn’t smoked yet, but clearly others have, from the haze wafting from room to room. The music is loud, the air is musty, and there’s a cloud of visible smoke surrounding a group of people in the corner. He can smell it now, the familiar scent relaxing him in a new environment.

He’s about to venture out to said group, catching Lucas’ ashy gray hair (a horrible decision, really) sticking out from its inhabitants, but then something catches his eye.

In a room of dark gray smoke and purple LED lights, a white dress catches his attention. He turns his head and, faded by the blurred intensity of the smoke, there you are. Leaning with your back against the wall, alone. You’re not doing much, just standing there in your awkward lonesome looking entirely out of place while swirling the contents of your red cup in your hand. With seemingly no move to drink it, you’re staring blankly into said cup, and Mark stares blankly at you. The white fabric of your dress seems to vividly attract the iridescent purple lights of the party, leaving you to stand out in the massive crowd. Though from the way you stand out from the crowd, it seems that that’s the last thing you want to do; you’d rather blend into the scene.

But you don’t. You’re a beacon of white light in the gray bleakness of the party, and Mark contemplates his next action. He had promised Lucas that he’d be his wingman to try and win over Yuqi. But there’s something about you that pulls him.

Oh well, he muses to himself as he slides across the room toward you. It’s not his fault Lucas needs a wingman to talk to girls, and he doesn’t.

“Hey,” he starts, trying to make himself heard above the music. “You’re staring at that thing like you need a refill.”

At the sound of his voice you look up as though suddenly startled. Then your eyes land on him and Mark’s not entirely sure if he’s sane, but you relax. “No thanks,” you respond politely. “I don’t drink.”

“Really?” Mark glances at his red Solo cup, half filled with some sordid mixture of vodka and Fanta that Doyoung had given him earlier.

“Is that strange?” You ask curiously as he makes move to lean on the wall next to you. Except rather than lean his back to it, he presses his shoulder to the wall to face you.

“A bit.” Mark says as he tilts his head back, pressing the red cup to his lips as he downs the rest of the liquid in his cup.

“Maybe. I’ve learned that there are more people who drink in college than people who don’t… I guess I fall into the second category.” When he finishes his drink, he tosses it over his shoulder.

“Nah,” he says in response. “I don’t really drink either. Only occasionally. I’m already a mess with the weed, imagine how much I’d be if I was an alcoholic.” He nearly expects you to laugh at his lame attempt at being playful, but he’s met with silence. Still, he doesn’t miss the way your eyebrows quirk slightly upward at his words. Right now, dark hair tousled and dark ripped jeans decorating his legs, Mark thinks he looks pretty good. But you don’t seem to be as interested as girls in the past.

“You smoke…” Your words trail and Mark finds himself enraptured by the form of your lips as you talk. His mind flies, but you continue, “How’s that like?”

He shrugs. “It’s nothing, really. Just fun. I have some right now if you want,” he says, patting his jean pocket.

“Oh, no,” you immediately recoil, as if it were preposterous. Immediately your eyes widen and you shake your head at him. “Not-not that people who do it are bad or anything! It’s just… not my thing.”

If you didn’t drink or enjoy any substances, what were you doing here? He asks this aloud.

“My roommate dragged me,” you explain. “We’ve only been living together for a week since the year started but she’s… something else. I’ve seen her smoke more than I’ve seen her study.”

You almost sound scared. This causes a laugh to leave his lips, and yours. He’s finding, in the mere two minutes of conversation you’ve made, that you are very different from the girl he thought you were across the room. You were indeed like your dress that attracted him: bright, pure, and comfortable.

And he wants you.

Your silence brings about Mark’s introduction. “I’m Mark, by the way.” His hand stretches out to you and you stare for a second.

“Y/N.” You place your hand in his, and from the jolt he feels in his heart, the first of its kind, that is the first time that Mark Lee believes in the existence of fate.

—FIVE HOURS CLEAN.

If someone had told Mark in his freshman year of high school that he would become a drug dealer in college, he would have directed them to his father’s church and told them to pray a bit.

Yes, prior to his entrance to adulthood and the cruel, cruel world, Mark Lee was a church boy. A good boy. He did well in school, dedicated his weekends to church and playing basketball with his boys. Up and down the high school halls, his signature laugh could be heard at any moment he wasn’t in class.

Then the summer before his senior year, Pastor Lee passed from cancer and Mark’s boisterous laughter became a long forgotten sound.

It was two weeks after his dad’s funeral that he met Donghyuck, a boy with shady eyes who offered him some kush. Just want to try it, Mark had tried to reason with his conscience when he took that first hit behind the school. Then he fell into the fatal world of drugs and partying. Lucas had been there since their junior high days, sad to see his friend fall so poorly, and he had forced Mark to get his shit together for graduation that year. Barely.

So yes, he was once the bright eyed boy he always wanted to be, who read the Bible front to back and wouldn’t have known how to roll a joint, but that was fantasy. He wasn’t that anymore. He’s a college student trying to get along with the little money he can make from selling weed and other things. He had first gotten into this when he met Johnny Seo, two years above him who could tell that Mark was struggling to make tuition and rent with a job at McDonald’s. Now Johnny has graduated and Mark is still doing his dirty work for him.

That’s exactly what he’s doing now, standing outside Taeyong’s house a little past 6PM with a pouch of kush in his bag.

It’s easy money, but that never calms his nerves.

Even when the door opens to reveal Taeyong, shirtless and red hair in disarray, Mark doesn’t stop bouncing his foot in worry. His restlessness isn’t lost on Taeyong, who had obviously just woken up. “It’s 6PM,” Mark says, eyebrow raised at his appearance.

“I was up all night working on a track.” Taeyong’s eyes flicker to Mark’s bouncing foot. “You’re bouncier than normal,” he comments as he counts his bills in his hand.

“Haven’t had my fix today.” Mark explains simply as the older male hands over a wad of cash. As he counts it silently, Taeyong points his thumb over his shoulder to his living room.

“Wanna come in and hit some?”

Mark looks up at his offer and sighs inwardly. It would be rather easy to just give in and smoke a bit with someone he trusted, and he wouldn’t even be paying for the weed. He’s tempted. After weeks of being stoned nearly every day, he’s starting to itch for a fix. But Lucas’ gruff voice rings in his mind and he knows that if he gives in, only five hours in, he’ll never be able to live with himself. So for now he does it for Lucas, but maybe in time he’ll see that it was for himself after all.

“I’m good.” Mark nearly shoves the pouch of green into Taeyong’s grasp, wanting to be away from it as soon as possible. The red-haired recipient only blinks.

“You’re giving it up or something?”

“Or something,” mumbles Mark sullenly, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“That’s good,” Taeyong declares after a short silence. Mark looks up, meeting Taeyong’s suddenly sincere eyes. “Good for you. I really couldn’t believe that you got into that stuff with Johnny’s crowd anyways.” Mark only shrugs in response. He’d long since stopped deliberating over that. This is his life now. “Still doing music?”

“In name, yeah, I’m still a music major. But I don’t have time to play.” The last time he touched his guitar was this morning when he had kicked it. The last time before that… he doesn’t know if he can’t remember due to a marijuana induced haze or if it’s because it really has been that long.

Taeyong continues. “You know, you don’t have to do this stuff. You’re a talented guy, you’re strong. If you could dedicate yourself to your music like you do to dealing, you wouldn’t need to deal.”

This brings about a sigh from Mark. Who is Taeyong to tell him what to do, anyways? Last time he checked, he was the customer, not Mark. “You all make it sound so easy.”

“Trust me. You can do it.”

—THE FIRST KISS

The first time Mark kisses you, it’s cold outside.

He’s walking you back to your sharehouse, down the streets of town, when he asks, “Be honest with me and tell me if that date sucked.”

It’s been a couple weeks since the two of you first met that fated night at Doyoung’s party, and you’ve only now allowed him to take you out on a date. He doesn’t know that it’s your first. Well, in some ways, it’s his also.

Mark’s been on a few dates, sure, but those all ended up with him getting his dick wet in the dark parking lot of a Burger King or something. He’d normally take them out for fast food, and finish with the usual fun stuff in his back seat. This time it’s… different. Not only does he figure that you wouldn’t be down for that type of date, but something in him wants it to be different. The only problem is he doesn’t know how to plan a good date.

He still took you out to get McDonalds’, but instead of retreating to the backseat, he drove the two of you to the movie theatre. It was probably a dumb choice of him in hindsight, deciding to watch an action movie, but something about the way you hid your face into his neck when one of the characters got punched out made him smile.

“No, it wasn’t… bad,” you respond, swinging your interlaced hands. You had surprised him earlier when you had grabbed his hand upon exiting his car, curling your fingers together.

“You’re lying,” he sighs.

“No, I’m not. Really,” you reassure him as the two of you approach the door of your home. After all, how can you have a bad date when you’ve never been on a date before? You have nothing to compare it to. “I had a good time. Actually… it was my first date.”

Mark blinks, having not expected that to be so. A groan leaves his lips as his free hand comes up to run through his hair. “Oh god, and I ruined it.”

“No, no, it was perfect. I wouldn’t change it for anything.” You smile a sickeningly sweet, charming smile at him, and he sighs. You’re too good for a guy like him.

He’s beyond surprised actually—even though you know of his habits, his hobby of wasting time and rolling joints, you haven’t run away like others. And he likes you. A lot. Even though everything tells him that what he does is bad for you, he still wants you. You’re a comfortable presence in his life.

“You know,” you suddenly start. Mark looks up, intrigued. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

He wonders if the surprise on his face is painfully evident. “Really? Like, ever?”

His question is met with a shake of your head, and he blinks. So you’ve never drank or smoked. That, he can believe. But the fact that you’ve never kissed anyone? Sometimes… you shock him with your boldness. Like earlier when you grabbed his hand and at your first meeting when you had asked for his phone number before he could. But in some moments like now, he realizes just how the duality of your personality comes into play.

“Why’s that?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, it never really felt right,” you explain as the two of you approach your doorstep. As he escorts you up the steps and to your front door, he furrows his brows deeper. Why were you telling him this?

“Does it feel right, now?” He asks softy, gaze flickering to your interlaced hands as he turns to face you. His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek, the touch soft despite the callused skin of his hands.

“Yes,” you respond gently, simpering smile on your roseate tiers.

The smile on your face is sweet and pure, two words that Mark isn’t.

A flood of relief shows on Mark’s face, and you bite down on your lower lip as excitement bubbles in your stomach. “Can I kiss you?” A response quickly follows. For some reason he can’t quite figure out, you let him into the maze that is you. Despite the leather jacket, his messy hair, and the lingering smell of weed on his clothes, you want him just as much as he wants you. Even though you both know that he isn’t the type of guy that you normally like, the type of guy that your mother would approve of, you trust him. It’s bewildering to him.

Then he guides you to him. Within seconds his lips are on yours, and you melt into him. It’s surely not Mark’s first kiss but it feels like it. The initial awkwardness, then the heat on his cheeks as you both fall into a rhythm. It feels right, like it was meant to be, just as Mark had hoped.

You’re like the kind of irreplicable drug that Mark has sought after for years. The kind that brings a euphoric high which burns his lungs and twists his stomach, but in all the right ways.

—29 HOURS CLEAN.

The smell filling the kitchen leads Lucas to scrunch his nose in distaste when he exits his room. “Dude, what the hell is that smell?”

His answer lies in the pan on the stove and Mark standing in the kitchen, wielding a wooden spoon. Clad in only basketball shorts, he looks absolutely foreign to the environment. Lucas sighs. “Please tell me you’re not boiling crack right here in our kitchen.”

The face the Korean makes is scandalized. “What—no, what the fuck? It’s mapo tofu. I’d be insane to try and make crack cocaine.” He adds under his breath, “In the apartment.”

Lucas leans back against the counter, cocking an eyebrow. “Then why are you cooking mapo tofu of all things? I haven’t seen you eat anything but ramen and eggs probably since we moved in here. And—put on a shirt if you’re cooking, or an apron at least. You look like a caveman.”

“Well,” sounds Mark with a roll of his eyes at his friend’s expected lecturing. “I had a shirt on, but I spilled some spicy shit on it and took it off. And I,” he pauses, turning off the stove. “I thought we could eat your favorite food together before we head out to Hendery’s party. You know, as a… sorry for being a bitch yesterday apology.”

The taller man narrows his eyes, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of his best friend’s words. “So you… decided to make my favorite food because you felt bad that I had to wake you up and take care of your shit?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Lucas laughs, a deep sound, whilst shaking his head. “Dude, I’ve been doing that since middle school and you’re only apologizing now?”

Mark purses his lips, making a face of annoyance. “Better late than never.”

“I guess. But sorry, I wouldn’t want to eat your mapo tofu anyways. Smells more like my week’s laundry than food. Maybe next time just order from that Chinese place around the corner that I actually like,” advises Lucas.

A pitiful laugh leaves Mark’s lips. “Duly noted.”

“And anyways, I’m not going to Hendery’s party. I have plans.” This causes Mark to finally take a good look at his friend. He’s normally well-dressed, but tonight he looks even better, a little too fancy for the typical college frat party. Before Mark can even question what these other plans are, Lucas explains, “I have a date with—”

“Yuqi,” finishes Mark for him. “Figured.” Lucas grabs his wallet on the counter, nodding before tucking it into his pant pocket. “Is that why you haven’t been partying with us? Or why you’ve suddenly been on this, ‘Mark, sobriety is key’ rant?” Mark questions, lowering his voice to imitate that of his roommate’s. At Lucas’ silence, Mark scoffs. “Dude, your relationship is so fucked up, how many times are you guys going to try to make it work when it doesn’t?”

All that leaves Lucas is a sigh, but Mark continues. “This is what, your third breakup so far? And fourth time trying to make it work?”

“Some things are worth the effort,” replies Lucas easily, slipping on his shoes. As he reaches to tie his laces, Mark continues, “She takes up all of your time now, you haven’t hung with us in months, and all for a relationship that’s destined to fail.”

“Nothing’s destined to fail, Mark. It’s all about how hard you’re willing to work for it.” His voice is calm, but there’s something building beneath it. To this, Mark sighs, and says, “You’ve changed, man.”

Lucas grabs his keys, clearly at the limit with Mark’s prodding. “Sometimes people are worth changing for, Mark. Yuqi forgave me for what I did, and I forgave her for what she did. We’re trying, okay? We’re not walking away. I’m sure…” The taller male pauses on his words, as though contemplating them, before continuing. “I’m sure Y/N would’ve forgiven you for what you did, but you walked away. And that’s where we’re different.”

It hits him, and Mark tightens his jaw. Yes, his relationship with Y/N was destined to fail too, there was no denying it. To fight with his friend who he had just tried to make amends with, or apologize? He goes with the latter, only because he’s too exhausted for a yelling match right now. “Lucas, I’m sorry, okay? I’m a little… on edge.”

“I know. I’ve known you for years,” chuckles Lucas softly. “I know how you get.”

“Yeah. Have fun on your date, though.”

His best friend nods tightly. “Yeah, I will. But if you care about what I told you, don’t go to the party tonight. You know you won’t be able to control yourself.” Mark nods, sighing. “And throw out that mapo tofu while you’re at it. It stinks, and not in the good way mapo tofu’s supposed to smell.”

Mark rolls his eyes while Lucas’ laugh fills his ears. “Just leave already.”

With a few smooth movements he’s already slid out the apartment door. A sigh leaves him, alone in the apartment. He does as Lucas says, tossing his attempt at dinner in the trash. It’s gonna be a long night.

—THE FIRST TASTE.

The first time that you kiss Mark, however, it’s hot inside his apartment and sweat sticks the fabric of your tank top to your stomach.

That doesn’t stop you from cuddling on his couch however, and you gaze up at him from your position under his arm to watch as your boyfriend, focused on the TV, lifts his blunt to his lips and takes a long drag. Underneath his arm, you observe how his lips wrap around the circumference of it, sucking in a sharp breath before releasing it into the air. He knows that over your time together, you’ve come to accept the smoking. It’s obviously clear to him that you don’t particularly approve, but Mark’s responsible enough to control himself. Now however, as you gaze up at him, you realize just how attractive your boyfriend is. Dark hair tousled and arms bared through his tank top, he looks so, so good. Somehow, he looks even better with the cig in his hand.

You never would have thought you’d fall for such a guy like him, but you keep falling. He’s not the good guy that you dreamed of, but that’s okay, because you make him good.

“Mark?” You ask, still looking up at him.

He hums in response, turning to look at you.

Your voice is soft as you ask, “Do you believe in destiny?”

Your boyfriend blinks at the sudden question. “Define destiny.”

“That like, we all have a predetermined fate. That everything happens for a reason, and every challenge is just a small piece in a bigger puzzle. That we all have soulmates we’re destined to be with.” Mark’s lips purse, pouting just the slightest in thought, a habit of his.

Does he?

It’s a question, because he used to. He used to be a good old Christian boy, of course he believed that God had a plan for everyone. Every tribulation was just something that would make him stronger in the end. Unfortunately, the last time Mark can remember being at church, he fucked one of the choir girls in the Bible study room.

He can’t really pinpoint when he stopped believing in fate. God? Yeah, sure he still believes in him, though the big guy upstairs will probably send him south for his irrefutable sins. But fate? Not really. If fate was real then it was really messed up to make him such a failure.

But, he realizes, gazing at the strands of hair matted to your forehead as a result of the hot summer weather, and the pure adulation in your eyes as you gaze up to him, that perhaps because of you, his destiny isn’t too bad. Sure, he’s a fuck up with addictions and demons, but he does pretty well by keeping you happy. Because you make him happy. A smooth, suave smile spreads across his lips like butter. “I didn’t before, but I do now.”

Your eyebrow perks up. “Now you do? Why’s that?”

His arm wrapped lazily around your shoulders allows him to pull your face close. With the same smile, he presses a number of kisses to your cheek (much to your sweet protest, complaining about his sweat and smoke). As though he attempts to mask his words against your skin, he mumbles, “Because I found you.”

Mark has never told you that he loves you; it’s a bit too intimate for him, who’s never been vulnerable in that way, and you, whose every first is him.

But he doesn’t have to say it, because you know it.

Your lips break out into a flustered smile, though you try to hide it from him. His quiet, unsaid confession fills you with glee and more importantly, confidence.

“Babe,” you tell him. This grabs his attention, because you rarely use such sweet nicknames. He attempts to respond, but you’re already sitting up and swinging yourself over to straddle his lap. Your movement brings about confusion on his features, and you take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this position with him, but the first time you’ve made the initiative to do it yourself. Mark was always leading you. So you lean forward, placing your hands on his shoulders, and you kiss him.

You can probably taste the smoke on your tongue, but you’ve grown accustomed to that. Mark kisses back and grips your waist with his free hand, both shocked and amused by your sudden courage. Everything feels right, it’s like it’s destiny. He’s about to slip his tongue into your mouth but you break the connection, choosing instead to linger your lips over his. Your breath is hot on his as you finally speak.

“I want a puff.”

“Are you sure?” He looks up at you, nearly breathless at the sight of you atop him. Lip gloss smeared from your heated kiss, you look delectable. Your wide eyes, once depicting innocence, are now focused and curious. He knows you don’t necessarily approve of his habits, but here you are, sitting on top of him looking irresistible and asking for a taste.

“Yes,” you confirm, as though reassuring yourself. Mark had always liked you, been attracted to you because of the notion that you were innocent, pure, bright. Everything he was not. He had never wanted to taint you, yet his confession still hangs in the air.

But as he lifts his blunt to his mouth, taking a long drag before blowing the diluted smoke into your waiting cavern, he starts to worry that this would be the beginning of a long downward spiral which would place no blame anywhere but on him.

—44 HOURS CLEAN.

The withdrawal forces him from his sleep at 5AM.

Mark wakes in a cold sweat, itching for a fix. That’s when he realizes how deep he really is.

Shit.

His fingers are shaking, so he moves to occupy them with the only thing he can think of. He drags himself out of bed, grabs his guitar, and makes his way out to the living room. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a window, he attempts to refamiliarize himself with the strings that he had abandoned. Lucas is still asleep, so he plucks quietly.

He has long since forgotten what it was like to lose himself in the sound.

There was once a time when he was passionate for something other than haze. It was music. The first time he touched a guitar, magic sprung through his fingers and he knew: he was made for this. Somehow, majoring in music composition and being forced to take so many theory and history classes had caused his passion to simmer. Now, it slowly burns again.

He doesn’t realize how the hours pass and the sun begins to shine between the blinds.

His mind brushes over what Taeyong had told him two days ago. Is this what he had been missing all this time? All the hours he spent blinded by a foggy smoked haze, had he been neglecting his own love for music? It’s amazing what he can accomplish when he takes a break from that life.

He starts to feel like the old Mark again.

For a second, he stops strumming and directs his gaze to outside the window. There’s not much to see except the college town, with the glimpse of the university itself just atop the hill, but he stares and relishes in the sight of the sunlight casting a glow over the town.

A knock on the door interrupts his deliberations.

A glance to the clock tells him it’s barely 9AM. Who would be here so early? There are two options, he decides as he stands from the floor to stretch his legs, resting his guitar on the wall. It’s either Yuqi, Lucas’ renowned off-again on-again girlfriend, or Johnny coming to deliver the week’s set.

When he opens the door, the visitor’s face is blocked by a box, but he knows those shoes. Those white ballet flats with purple bows were always your favorite.

Suddenly the box lowers and Mark is finally face to face with you, his ex-girlfriend. He hasn’t seen your face in the months since you’ve called it quits, even though he’s spent countless moments just staring at the leftover pictures on his phone. You look surprised to see him.

“Oh—Mark. Lucas said you probably wouldn’t be awake.” So you had been keeping in touch with Lucas? This is news to him. Had his best friend been sharing that he had been basically wasting away the past few months without you?

“Couldn’t sleep,” explains Mark almost sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. For a moment he’s glad he had the mind to put on a shirt before coming outside.

“Oh…” You trail, your gaze traveling down to the box absentmindedly.

He doesn’t mean to be rude, but the surprise at seeing you on his doorstep makes him a bit gruff. You’re still the same as before: same face, same shoes, same bright eyes. But there’s something about you, about your aura that’s different. More mature. More independent. Because you don’t need him anymore. “What are you doing here?”

If you’re taken aback by his coarseness, you don’t show it. “I brought a box of your stuff. It’s just... stuff that was left at my house.” You gesture to the box in your hands, and Mark is quick to take it from your arms. He prays you don’t take note of the way his hands shake.

Slowly he places it on the floor next to the door and when he stands again, you’re leaning back and forth on your heels looking rather awkward. He doesn’t ask for an explanation but you give one anyways. You had always had a habit of talking too much when you felt nervous. “I’ve had it since...” Your breakup, but neither of you want to say it. “I put it together a couple months ago but put off bringing it over. But I figured, uh, the school year’s over in a couple weeks so I should just do it. I texted Lucas, he said he’d be awake to grab it but..”

“He’s still asleep,” Mark completes for you.

“Yeah,” you say simply. No longer having a box to occupy your hands, you hold them behind your back which only furthers the idea that you’re uncomfortable in his presence. It makes him sad almost, how much things have changed.

He thinks back to what Lucas had told him at the start of the weekend. Maybe it was possible to change things back to the way they used to be. “Do you want to come inside? I have some coffee, or some—”

You look at him with blinking eyes. “I don’t dr—”

“I know.” He knows you don’t drink coffee. Of course he does. “I have tea. It’s even peppermint, your favorite.”

“You drink peppermint tea?” You look at him, incredulous.

“I don’t. It’s leftover from when I bought it for you. I just... haven’t thrown it out yet.”

That’s what your love had done to him: turned him from a brooding boy into a softened man, so much that he was willing to keep your favorite drink around just in case you’d ever come back and want it.

“Oh,” you sound. Your teeth bite down gently on your bottom lip, gnawing it in contemplation as you look away from him momentarily. When you look back, he can see you’ve made your decision. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mark. I’m sorry.”

He expected it, but it doesn’t sting any less. “That’s okay. I understand.” An attempt at a smile is displayed on his face, but it doesn’t reflect any of the radiance in the smile that you mirror back at him. It’s small, the tips of your lips barely lifting, but it’s enough to remind him that you are indeed all that is good in the world, and he needs you. He loves you.

Maybe he can’t love you right now but one day, he’ll be good enough to deserve you. That day isn’t today, but it’ll come eventually. “I’ll see you around,” you say to him.

“I hope so,” is his response.

You give him another small smile before turning to leave. “I hope you’re doing okay, Mark.”

He is, or he’s trying to. When you leave, he closes the door and returns the box to his bedroom before opening it up. Inside, numerous hoodies gifted to you because they became too small for him but were still huge on you. Old songbooks from his high school days that he no longer needed. A teddy bear he had gifted you on your first anniversary.

Pushing the box aside, he grabs a notebook and his music theory textbook. Maybe it actually would do him some good to study.

—THE FIRST TEAR.

“What the hell, Mark?”

You don’t curse often, so when you do, it wakes him. When you find him in his room, he’s knocked out with his body half on the bed and the other half slung over the edge. His hair sticks out in numerous fluffy tufts over his pillow, but you can still smell the weed off of him.

“He only came back like, three hours ago.” He hears Lucas’ voice selling him out, and he groans into the pillow, only lifting his head to grumble at his roommate.

“Snitch bitch,” he says, his voice groggy and scratched.

“Don’t get mad at him,” you suddenly speak up. “At least he answered my calls when I was calling, worried where you were because you hadn’t texted me since,” you stop to check your phone. “5PM last night!”

“I told you, I was going to Johnny’s party,” responds Mark, sitting up in his bed, head still spinning. Rubbing his eyes, he sits up, looking rather disheveled and hungover.

“Yeah, and you never texted me to let me know you were home. How would I have known if you had overdosed, or passed out drunk, or got in a car accident? Or just died?” As your voice rises, reaching a volume you’ve rarely ever employed, you clear your throat to calm yourself and turn to Lucas. “Thanks, Lucas. I appreciate it.”

“Any time,” he responds, giving a nod before walking away, likely disappearing into his room.

When you turn back to gaze into Mark’s room, he’s slipped on a shirt. “What the hell were you doing out so late? 9AM is when you should be waking up, Mark, not falling asleep. Finals are next week, you were supposed to meet me at the library an hour ago!”

He makes an annoyed expression at your chastising, and you gaze at him with expectant eyes, awaiting an explanation. All he does is grimace and say, “Babe, can you like, quiet down? I’m hungover, your voice is too loud.”

Your jaw drops.

For a moment you stay like that, until you continue speaking, words coming out faster than Mark can understand them. “I’m just trying to help, Mark. You’ve partied more than you’ve studied this year, and I’m not going to let you just get away with it. Almost every weekend I have to stay up worrying about you, wondering when you’ll get home, unable to sleep until you text me that you’re home and okay.”

“Maybe you should stop worrying then,” he retorts.

“Maybe stop giving me reasons to worry?”

He rolls his eyes, laying back in his bed. “Maybe you should come with me then.”

You quickly reply, “Maybe you should stop partying.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to control me,” he finally spits.

Once again, you’re rendered speechless. And when you turn your head away, focusing your gaze to the hallway instead of at him, Mark thinks he’s won. But then you sniff, an indication that your sensitive heart has once again been touched with tears. “Please,” you finally say, voice weak. This is the timbre Mark is used to hearing from you, not the tone you had used earlier when yelling at him. In this moment, he’s not sure which one he hates more. “Please stop this.”

In a swift movement you reach forward, gathering yourself on your knees before his bed. You grab his hand, pressing your lips to it as a tear makes its way down your cheek. “Please, please, please… please stop the drugs, Mark. It’s made you this… this terrible person and I know you’re not like this.” Suddenly, you’re crying into the palm of his hand while he gazes at you in surprise. “Missing dates, staying out late, yelling, I know that’s not you.”

“Y/N—”

“Please, just call Johnny and tell him you can’t do this anymore. Tell him you’re done. Please, for me.”

Your begging causes Mark’s jaw to tighten subconsciously. What you’re hoping for is a better Mark, a different person. He’s not that person that you want him to be, he can never be that way. This is how he is and how he’ll always be. This is his fate, to be a lowlife drug dealer barely passing college, and if you can’t handle it then—“You know I can’t do that. You promised you’d be here through everything, all the good and the bad.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you destroy yourself like this, Mark.”

He rips his hand from your grasp, causing a slight squeak of surprise to leave your lips. It’s almost as if he’s not in control of himself, because he blows up. “Can’t you just be like a good girlfriend and love me through the bad shit? I’m trying my best here.”

But is he really? Suddenly, as though empowered by some kind of intangible strength, you rise to your feet, the sadness in your eyes now quickly replaced by anger. “I do love you, that’s why I’m acting like this, you asshole!” You wipe your tears furiously with the back of your hand before glowering down at him. “But if you can’t keep your mind sober long enough to see that then call me when you can.”

He registers the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, causing it to ring in his ears. Within the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Fate is a really messed up bitch for this.

—1 WEEK CLEAN.

It’s been a week.

A week since the last time he touched anything, though he had been tempted when Yuta invited him over for some sativa. The drinking and partying isn’t hard to let go of. It’s the weed, because it got him through the hardest days.

A week in, and he’s pretty proud of himself.

Nowadays, he tries to occupy his shaking hands with guitar or studying but he’s started playing so often that his hands are now raw and in pain. Today, because the weather’s nice outside and his fingers hurt like hell, he decides to take a walk.

It’s aimless at first, just exploring the streets around his apartment on foot. But then ten, fifteen, thirty minutes pass, and without knowing it, he’s arrived at his destination. Johnny’s place. Standing in front of the door, eyes boring into the bright red paint of the front door, Mark feels himself start to slip. No, he decides, he has to do this. This is the right thing.

A shaky knock on the door is followed by another stronger one. He waits a minute before trying again, yet as his hand lifts to place another knock on it, it slides open to reveal Johnny himself in casual wear. “Hey,” greets Johnny, giving Mark a nod. “What’s up? I told you I’d drop the next batch off at your place, you didn’t have to come out here.”

At Johnny’s question, Mark feels his breath caught in his throat. Not only is the guy taller than him and towering over him in every aspect, but he could definitely throw Mark under the bus for his own crimes. But no… he wouldn’t do that, right? He had done enough for Johnny over the past three years that he would let him off easily, surely? A gulp is heard in Mark’s throat as he straightens his position in front of Johnny.

“That’s the thing. I… I don’t want to do this anymore.”

For a moment, Mark thinks that the taller man will be angry. Johnny stands before him, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“I just need to.”

Johnny immediately starts to argue, tilting his head. “You know you’re my best seller, though. No one sells as much as you, and I trust you with all the big deliveries. Who am I supposed to give the heroin to now… Ten? As if, Mark.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

“I…” Mark starts, though he stops. “I need to stop. I’ll finish the batch from this week, I promise. I only have like, two deliveries left but I just, it’s not healthy for me. And it’s not because I’m planning to sell you out or anything, or find someone else but I just can’t do this anymore.” He finds himself ranting, finding more interest in anything but Johnny’s face. “I’m not happy, I’m angry and anxious all the time, and being around the drugs only makes me want to do it more, and I just… I just can’t, John.”

When he finishes his unfiltered rant, he looks back to the taller male and tries to read his expression. Will he be angry? If his earlier debate was anything, he definitely wouldn’t let Mark off without a fight.

But instead, the older nods. “I get it. Just finish your deliveries for this week and call it done.”

Mark blinks at Johnny’s easy acquiescence. “T-That’s it? You’re not going to fight more?”

“You want me to?” Johnny asks, cocking an eyebrow that’s almost mocking.

“No, but I…”

“Thought you’d be worth the fight?”

“No, that’s not it.” Mark shakes his head. “I just…”

“Mark,” sighs Johnny, standing straight from where he had been leaning rather casually against the doorframe. “I’m not stupid, okay? I know that drug dealing is hard for you. And I’m also not oblivious, I know that you and your girlfriend broke up, okay? Yuta told me what happened with the coke, and I wasn’t surprised when you refused to sell it anymore.”

Mark frowns even deeper at the mention of it, but Johnny continues. “I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do. If you say it’s not good for you, then it’s not good for you.”

“But…” Mark starts, but doesn’t find the words to continue. It was… that easy. “Okay. Uh, thanks, I guess. For everything?”

“Sure. Just don’t come crawling back when you can’t make rent on your McDonalds’ salary. Male strippers make pretty good money, if you’re interested.” It’s clear Johnny’s joking, so Mark rolls his eyes and laughs, though the sound is somewhat tight.

“I’d love to talk to you some more about ways to get a hustle going, but I have to go find a new dealer, and teach Ten how to stop giving weed to everyone he meets because he thinks they need a pick-me-up.” Johnny sighs, as though the life of a drug dealer is the most difficult of them all, which in Mark’s experience, it might just be.

“Alright. Uh, later, John.”

Johnny nods in acknowledgement before shutting the door. Mark breaths out a heavy breath.

That went… surprisingly well. Maybe Lucas was right, maybe it really was this easy all this time. Perhaps he had always just been the one believing that it was difficult, because he had made it so. He had been stressing over it all this time, but Johnny was more easygoing about it than he’d thought.

As he walks the path home, he thinks he deserves a reward for his endeavors. It’s a bit selfish maybe, but he opens his phone, and you’re on his speed dial.

“Hello?” You ask, voice bright as always but clearly a bit guarded from the name that had flashed across your screen.

“Y/N,” Mark breathes out. It’s only been a few days since you had swung by the apartment.

“Hey, uh… what’s up?”

He doesn’t quite know either. He had quite honestly been a bit impulsive in pressing on your contact, and now that you truly rest across the phone from him, he has no idea what his purpose was. “Um, nothing much, I just wanted to tell you…” A soft breath leaves his lips. Will you be happy for him? “I told Johnny that I quit, that I’m done.”

There’s a momentary pause on the line, and Mark begins to worry that you’ve hung up when you finally breathe out, “That’s good, Mark. I’m… I’m proud of you.”

Proud. He had only been hoping for a “good for you,” at most, but to hear that you’re proud of him, it makes him smile to the ground as he walks the trail back to his apartment. Fuck, you’ve made him weak. “Thanks.”

“I guess you really are doing well then,” you say.

When he gets home, riding the high of his successes from standing up to Johnny to calling you, he flushes his Xanax pills down the toilet and watches as they swirl away into oblivion, as if they had never existed in his life in the first place.

—THE FIRST CRASH.

Mark connects his lips to your neck and suckles on it softly, drawing a moan out of you. The sound you make goes straight to his dick, and he releases a breathy groan against your skin. “Fuck, you sound so pretty, princess.”

Princess—that’s the name he’s given you, because all he wants to do is treat you right. And he does, especially in times like these, where you feel the heat of his body on top of yours and he devours your moans in his mouth.

He currently lays between your spread legs, your combined figure lost in his bed sheets as he softly grinds his hardened core against yours. He’s still got his jeans on while you’re laying only clad in your panties, yet the feel of the denim is enough to have you moaning. You tilt your head back as a light mewl leaves your lips, your body subconsciously grinding down on his.

It had been complete heaven for the both of you when you had given him your virginity, your purity, at the beginning of this year, and since then you have been basically insatiable. You had never felt such desire for anyone before him. Now as his hands rub small circles over your clothed clit, you want him once more.

You’re shaking your head, so needy for him but he doesn’t relent, only smirking more while he continues rubbing sinful circles on your clit. “Tell me what you want.” He wants to hear your beg.

Voice soft and breathy, you say, “Please, Mark, I—”

The doorbell rings. It’s heard through the apartment and Mark groans, rolling his eyes while attempting to keep you going. “Keep going. It’s probably just Lucas forgetting his key again.”

Though the mood was momentarily killed, you both try to fall back into place. Now his fingers have left your clit, instead pulling your panties down to your midthigh. “Shit, you’re soaking,” he moans out in amazement, running a finger through your wet folds. As much as he wants to dive in and fuck you until you’re cumming all over his cock, he needs to hear your sweet voice dripping dirty words for him first. Easily, he slides a finger in, to which you groan at the stretch. But it’s not enough.

“Don’t tease me, please.”

He smirks, slowly sliding his singular digit out of your sensitive core whilst he thumbs your clit. “Go on then, princess. Tell me what you need.”

“Fuck,” you curse and he finds it so hot. “I… I want you to—”

The doorbell again. This time, Mark audibly curses. “Fucking hell,” he sighs, removing his fingers from where you need him. Instead, he moves up and places a sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll be right back.”

He’s still fully dressed, so he simply opens the door and slips outside before closing it again behind him. As he’s walking down the hall, the doorbell rings once again, causing him to roll his eyes. God, how many times was Lucas going to lose his keys?

The person at the door, however, isn’t his roommate. It’s Johnny, holding a black gym bag. Mark already knows what it is. He runs a hand through his hair, already crazy from how you had been running your hands through it. “Hey, John,” he says, taking the bag clearly in a rush. It’s Sunday, which means Johnny’s dropping off Mark’s deliveries for the week.

“Hey, man,” greets Johnny, handing over the list. Mark doesn’t even bother to check that everything’s there, so the older man raises an eyebrow. “Busy?” He asks, eyeing Mark’s disheveled clothes and the fresh hickey on his collarbone.

“Kind of.”

“Nice. See you next week,” says Johnny with a click of his tongue and a wink, then Mark closes the door and he’s gone. Now, back to what’s important. He slings the strap over his shoulder and makes his way back to his bedroom. As soon as he enters, you look up at him with wide, anticipating eyes.

You’ve pulled your undergarments back on, much to his displeasure. Mark drops the dark bag on the floor in the corner, and your eyes find it. “Johnny came?”

“Yeah. Just dropping off for the week,” replies Mark, his mind not exactly on it as he takes off his shirt, tossing it somewhere. He moves back over your figure on the bed, lips on the curve of your breast fully intending to return things to the intensity they were at just earlier.

Though his lips trail up to meet yours and his hands begin tugging your panties back down, he can tell from the way you’re kissing him that you’re not fully there. So when you moan his name, he knows it’s not out of pleasure. “Mark,” you say softly against his lips.

“Hmm,” he responds, callused hands gripping your thighs and leading them open. He’s about to slip his hand inside your panties, but your hand stops him.

“Can I have some?” When he looks at you, your eyes are not focused on him, but the bag in the corner. Your eyes are faded, clouded as your both ascend to a place of pleasure. You… wanted drugs? Sure, he’s blown a few times in your mouth but in your relationship spanning over a year already, you’ve never directly asked for any.

His dark eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure?”

You bite down on your lip. “What’s in it?”

“I don’t know,” reveals Mark truthfully as he gets off of you and makes his way over to the package, picking it up and placing it on the bed. You’re sitting up now, peering over the bag with interest as he unzips the gym bag open. Though the exterior looks unsuspicious, the bag opens up to reveal bags of white powder and green kush.

Cocaine.

It’s dangerous. Mark gazes down at it, biting down on his lip.

“Is that… cocaine?” You ask, not unaware of the extreme drug sitting in your boyfriend’s room.

He nods, almost ashamed. “Yeah.”

A silence falls over the two of you, both just staring at the white bags. It’s almost unbearable, how much Mark wants to throw the bag away and just resume your activities, but you’re still gazing into the bag with contemplation, fear, and even… curiosity.

“So, can I have some?” You ask again.

Mark sputters for a second, blinking. “Babe. I—are you sure?”

You nod, eyes dark and curious. “Yeah.” At your confirmation, sounding like it was more to assure yourself than him, Mark stares holes into the white substance. It’s filling the bag to the brim—surely whoever he has to deliver it to won’t notice a line’s worth missing.

So it’s with steady yet hesitant hands that he pulls a pack from the bag, directing you. “Grab your credit card,” he says, walking over to his nightstand. Unzipping the bag just the slightest, he pours out a small amount. Just a little bit, he swears.

When you return to his side with your said card in your hand, he takes it from you and lines up the coke on the table. In a neat little line, it’s set up for you. “Okay,” he starts, looking at you. “Just hold down one nostril and—”

“I know how to do it. I’ve seen it at parties.” You interrupt him as you kneel, finally head level with the nightstand. It’s true; the few parties you have attended alongside your boyfriend, there’s more than enough depictions. He watches with interest as you lean forward, holding one side of your nose closed, and snort up the entire line in one go.

First, you cough into the nightstand. When you turn and look at him, you’re wiping the remaining white dust from your nose. “You okay?” Your boyfriend asks you, to which you nod. “It takes a few minutes to work.”

Again, you nod silently, sitting down on the bed and gesturing Mark to come to you. When he approaches, you lay back in his bed, looking up at him with lustful eyes. “Now, hurry up and fuck me.”

The words are so rare from you. It’s all he needs to hear, unbuckling his belt and dragging his jeans to the floor in two swift movements. Within moments he’s back on top of you, feeling your heat once again. He starts slow, pressing kisses to your stomach, breasts, and neck while waiting for the drug to take effect. He knows the exact moment that it begins to work; your pupils immediately dilate, and suddenly you’re a loose, moaning mess underneath him.

Your muscles relaxed, Mark immediately presses a long kiss to your swollen lips while dragging down your panties. He would usually opt for more foreplay, but he’s waited long enough. He pulls away for the shortest moment to slip on a condom, but before you know it he’s already flush against you again.

It feels so good, even just his touch on you. You’re so sensitive, senses heightened by the drug that you feel everything: his large hands on your breasts over your tips, his lips marking your neck. When he leads his dick to your dripping entrance, you watch in anticipation, though you’re shaking.

As he finally slides in, finally filling you up, you tilt your head back and let out a loud moan, the loudest yet. It just feels so good, you feel so full, and he’s so, so deep.

Everything is…. so good. Euphoria creeps into your headspace.

He pulls out, and you moan again. “Ah,” you gasp sharply, feeling every ridge, every muscle stretched as he slides out, only the tip inside you. Then he slams back in, causing your back to arch and your toes to curl. “Oh, fuck,” you moan out again, eyes closed tightly, lost in the pleasure.

Mark’s hand grips at your hips, eyebrows furrowed in focus as he falls into a rhythm. He would have taken some himself, but he wanted to watch you fall apart under him. Suddenly you grab at his free hand, and he intertwines your fingers. You’re squeezing him, his hand and his dick altogether, so tightly as you’re lost in your pleasure.

“Fuck, princess, you feel so good,” he moans out, closing his eyes. He immediately opens them again, not wanting to miss a second of you. “You love my cock, huh?”

Breathless, you nod without words.

“And to think, just a year ago you were an innocent little prude. Now look at you, taking my cock like the slut you are. High on my drugs, fuck—” Mark taunts, moaning aloud as you suddenly clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so tight.”

When he adds his hands to your clit, rubbing the nub in circles the way he knows you love it, the pleasure is heightened for your sensitive body. Your temperature rises, your heartbeat uncontrollable—all the telltale signs of that euphoric high.

A few minutes pass like this, you completely out of it and moaning at the top of your lungs whilst your boyfriend fades in and out of your vision. You grasp onto his arm, tilting your head back. “Mark, I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he musters out, never stopping his hips. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are.”

And you do, losing it as you tighten around his length, walls clenching repeatedly. This brings him over the edge, cumming into the condom with a shaky breath. He keeps the rhythm going for both your sakes, though his thrusts go erratic as he comes down.

You do the same, your thirty minutes of elation coming to an end soon. As soon as you’ve come down from your orgasmic high, you immediately relax. Your breathing is labored as you relax into his sheets.

Mark pulls from you with a low groan. By the time he’s tossed the condom off into the trash and returned to his bed, you’re already asleep, chest rising softly. A post-cocaine high can do that to you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he slides into bed with you, slipping a hand over your waist.

With the way your body fits right into his, one could say you were made for each other. In Mark’s mind, maybe you were.

—3 WEEKS, 6 DAYS CLEAN

His hands shake as he curls the wrapping paper, giving it a soft lick to secure it.

Tomorrow will be four weeks, a whole month since the last time he had done anything. He had passed his exams. After he had thrown the pills away, he was sure that everything would be smooth sailing. But he was wrong.

He’s disappointed in himself, he is. He wanted to be better, but it’s harder than it seems. Lucas would be disappointed in him. You would be too.

Luckily, neither will find out.

Right now he’s tucked in his bedroom away from Lucas with the excuse that he was napping, but he’s not. Instead, he’s wrapping a joint with the leftover weed tucked in his nightstand.

It’s not because he wants to, or because he’s being peer pressured by anyone around him. It’s for one person only—his dad.

On this day, five years ago, Pastor Lee passed away.

The first three years, the hardest ones, he had Lucas. The past two years, he had you.

No—the first three years weren’t hardest to face, this one is. He still has Lucas, but not really. Had he swallowed his pride, had he just told his best friend that he wasn’t okay when he had asked about his father’s death anniversary, things would have been okay. Lucas would have nodded in sympathy, then dropped everything he had to be there for Mark. They’d chill and drink a couple beers—no, not drink, not anymore—but maybe watch a movie and play some games until the day had passed. That would have been bearable.

But that hadn’t happened.

When Lucas had asked Mark how he felt about the day, Mark had lied and blubbered out a, “Oh, was that today? I totally forgot.” Why had he done that? He doesn’t know.

Because he had had too much pride to admit to his friend that he was struggling… Now he’s here, trying to take care of his pain in the only way he has left.

He lights it, fingers still shaking, and his body relaxes into the mattress as he finally gets a taste of the clouded, sinful smoke once more. The only downfall to this is that he knows, oh he knows well, just how much pain that it causes for him and those around him.

—THE FIRST BURN.

Over the years, Mark has grown accustomed to the warmth.

It’s what you do to him, what he associates you with. Your first kiss, despite the cold winter air, warmed his soul from the inside. Whenever he looks at you… there’s a feeling of espousement that explodes within his chest. Yes, he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it often. He doesn’t need to. You know. You’ve opened his eyes to the beauty of love, the exhilaration of showing yourself to someone and being fully accepted. In his life once frozen over with the loss of his father and the death of his innocence, you showed him warmth.

When he wakes, you’re burning up.

More than you should, even with the two of you naked beneath his blankets. You’re sweating, he realizes as he slides his hand, which he had slung around your waist as the two of you drifted into dreamland, over your skin.

You must be hot underneath the blanket, so he starts to slide it off the blanket from your figures. Then he hears it: you cough, the choked sound coming out scratched and labored. Though you’re turned away from him, he can hear the struggle in it. It’s as if… there’s something blocking your throat.

His eyes immediately widen, adrenaline spiking as he sits up, grabs your shoulders, and turns you around. No, no, it can’t be. Where you had been laying, facing the wall, there’s remnants of your vomit, though some had gotten lodged in your throat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. His fingers grab your wrist. You’re still breathing. You’ve still got a pulse, but it’s fast, too fast. So fast, he can barely count it. “Shit,” he curses. You’re overdosing. You’ve overdosed. Fuck.

It’s the cocaine.

“Y/N,” he calls, voice already loud enough to make the house burst into flames with the amount of desperation he puts into it. Shaking your shoulders, he tries again. “Y/N, baby, fuck—wake up!” When you don’t come to, he turns his head over his shoulder, screaming, “Lucas!”

It’s only the early morning, will he be awake? “Lucas!”

“Mark…?” Your voice draws him out from his panic, and he turns to you with wide eyes. Your eyes, pupils dilated and shaky, fly all over the room. “W-What’s—” You don’t finish, because immediately you’re flinging yourself over the side of his bed and throwing up the remainder of what’s in your throat out on his bedroom floor.

The door slams open. Lucas’ worried face appears. Mark is trembling, breath shaking, and you’re still vomiting over the carpet. At the moment, Mark doesn’t care that the both of you are naked in his bed. “What the hell happened?”

Mark feels himself start to slip away, only a moment from hyperventilating, but he speaks. “Hospital… cocaine—overdose, I—”

“I’ll go start the car.” Lucas is immediately out the door, loud steps running down the hallway to grab his keys. At least somebody is in a stable state of mind. Mark starts to move, standing to dress the two of you, but you grab his arm as he steps out, perhaps using the last of your energy. Your eyes are wild, your mouth parted as you heave heavy, labored breaths.

“I… I can’t breathe—Mark, I can’t,” you start between hurried breaths, but don’t finish. Immediately you go slack, falling back in his bed with closed eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“Fuck,” he curses, immediately throwing on his jeans and sliding your dress over your sweltering body. Though he’s stumbling and racing to gather things, his phone, his wallet, and your’s, he picks you up into his arms bridal style, racing out of his bedroom into the living room.

Flying out the front door, the cold morning air greets him in an unpleasant fashion, only making your perspiring body seem even warmer, reminding him of his faults. Lucas is already sitting in the front seat, ready to go, but Mark throws the two of you in the backseat. At this point you’re completely gone to the world, head thrown back against the cushion as he struggles to put on your seatbelt. It seems like an arbitrary precaution in this case.

As Lucas starts to drive, moving as fast as he can possibly go, Mark clutches your hand. “Baby,” he finally breaths out as reality begins to set in. This is his fault, he did this to you. He doesn’t deserve to hold your hand, so instead he lets go, placing it in your lap before leaning forward to place his head in his hands.

“Oh my fucking god,” he finally lets out, exasperated.

—1 WEEK, 2 DAYS CLEAN

“My name is Hyunjoon, and I am addicted to alcohol. It has been… six weeks since my last drink.”

Mark bounces his leg erratically, glancing around the room. There’s some people he knows, recalling their faces on campus or around town, but some people he's never seen in his life. He’s supposed to reveal himself to these people? He doesn’t belong here.

Or maybe he does. After his last breakdown, it had taken him three days to fess up to Lucas. His friend, though disappointed, was more than understanding. “It’s a long road,” he had told Mark at the time. He said that he knew of an addiction support group in town, and encouraged Mark to attend. He’s right; Mark knows he can’t do this alone.

“Glad to see you’ve gone another week, Hyunjoon. Happy to see you back.”

He’s next, so he stands. “Um,” he starts, rubbing his nape and feeling awfully out of place. “I’m Mark, and I’m addicted to…” he sighs. “A lot of things.”

The kind looking leader of the meeting offers him a smile. “You can share if you’d like.”

He takes a deep breath. There’s so many people, so many eyes. “Mostly weed. I drink a lot, or I used to. I… I was trying to stop everything then I had a—” How to describe it? “Relapse, last week. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“We commend you for your courage, Mark.” There’s a soft round of applause in the circle. The smiling leader then continues, “We ask everyone who is new to this group, ‘why.’ Why do you want to stop your addiction? Why do you seek help? Besides the obvious reasons that it’s bad for you.”

This question doesn’t take long for him to answer. “I hurt someone. Someone that I really loved, and honestly… I hate myself for it. So I have to stop.”

There seems to be a couple of nods around the circle as Mark sits back down. He releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. This will work. Things will be okay. He will get better. He will get you back.

“Thank you for that, Mark. Welcome.”

—THE FIRST REGRET.

Mark finds himself in the same position he had been in earlier in the car, except this time he’s sitting on the floor right outside your room on the hospital floor, hiding his head in his hands. What is wrong with him?

What had he done to you? What had he allowed you to do to yourself?

God, he’s fucked up.

Lucas is inside with you. He had wanted to be there when you woke up, but he couldn’t. He could barely look at his face in the hospital bathroom mirrors; how was he supposed to face you, IVs hooked up to your arms as a result of the drugs that he gave you? It was supposed to be fine, it was just a little bit! It was supposed to help the experience you two were having. But instead, it almost ended your life.

He looks back now. Just two years ago, when you had first met, you didn’t even drink. You’d never been kissed, never been touched. Now he’s… done this to you. He’s despicable. You don’t deserve him. You deserve better.

The door opens, and Mark finally pulls his head up to see Lucas step out with a somber expression. It’s a stark juxtaposition that saddens him, for Lucas is so often the light hearted joking one of the two. “She wants to see you.”

Mark parts his lips, shaky breath exhaling. “I can’t.”

Lucas takes a seat next to him on the floor, sighing. He probably looks crazy, shirtless and puffy eyed on the floor, but his best friend moves next to him anyways. “I know. She’s not angry, you know.”

“That’s the worst part,” mumbles Mark, staring out at the bleak white walls of the hospital in front of them. He doesn’t say much, but Lucas understands him it seems.

“Something’s gotta change, Mark. Something’s gotta give.”

He knows, with a soft nod of his head. Of course, he knows what Lucas means, but what it means to him is different. He has to give something up, and it’s going to be you. Not because he can live without you or because he doesn’t love you, but because it needs to be you. You can’t be around him any longer. You’ll only continue to be hurt.

When this thought finally occurs, and he accepts it, it becomes a little easier to face you.

He rises to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll see you later,” he finally says, twisting the doorknob to your room open.

—1 MONTH, 4 DAYS CLEAN

He doesn’t know why you asked to see him for lunch, but he does know that you look good. You look healthy, you look better than you did that day when he slipped into your hospital room and saw you there, laying lifeless and gray. But that day, you still smiled when you saw him.

You look rather happy, like you’re doing okay without him, though he hopes that’s not that case—no, that’s not a good thing to hope for. He hopes that you’re doing okay, but that you’ll be even happier when you’re together again. Again, you smile at him over your food. Even after all this time, you still look at him like he’s the center of your universe.

Though you had made small talk about your lives, what you were both doing, how your mom is, how Lucas is, and other unimportant things, it’s at the end of the meal when your voice finally sobers, though you keep a smile on your lips.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you out here.”

“I…” Mark starts, blinking, before nodding. “Yeah.”

You laugh, causing the slightest smile to break out across his lips. It’s still the same laugh you had, that fated night when you met. “I just wanted to see you again. And talk. We haven’t talked in a while.”

Mark’s smile turns into a bittersweet simper. “I thought that was because you didn’t want to talk.” Though you had spoken to him on that phone that one day, he had chalked that up to you being polite when he suddenly called.

“Well, at first, yeah, but you know it’s been almost a year since we broke up and… I had some things I wanted to tell you.” Him too, but he’s not entirely sure he’s at his best just yet. Nevertheless, he smiles and nods.

“I’m listening. You know I always am.”

You take a moment or two to simply stare at him with thoughtful eyes as you think over your words. All the while, your sweet smile never leaves your roseate tiers. Finally, hands folded over your lap, you start.

“Thank you.”

Mark blinks, but you continue. “I know that we didn’t end off on the best terms but I wanted to make sure you knew that I was thankful for you. For having you. You’ve done a lot for me. You’ve taught me a lot, and I can’t thank you more for everything you’ve done.”

You blink repeatedly, eyes fluttering before you continue, which leads Mark to think that these words might be just as emotional for you as they are for him. “Thank you for teaching me love. Because of you, I’ve grown a lot and become a better version of myself. A stronger one. I’m really thankful that you were my first everything: my first real date—” His mind flies back to that night. That movie really was a horrible movie.

“My first kiss.” Does it feel right, now? Yes. Can I kiss you? Yes.

“My first time.” It was awkward, but it felt, as it always did, right.

“Thank you, for being the first guy I loved. I really… really loved you, Mark. But most of all,” you say, gazing at his wordless figure with those eyes of yours. They’re not as innocent and naive as they used to be. They’re matured now, hardened, but still, the sparkle is there. The same sparkle that had attracted him that night, three years ago, with that damned white dress.

“I forgive you.” Mark releases a shaky breath. “For everything. I don’t want you to blame yourself anymore. It’s not your fault, really. I’m better now, I’m healthy. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore because of me.”

“Y/N, I—”

“I met you in my first year here. We’re going to be seniors, Mark. We’re going to graduate and be thrown into the real world, where there’s real consequences. I don’t want the consequences of what happened to weigh you down. I just want to move on, and you deserve to move on too.” From the glint in your eye, it’s clear how long you’ve pondered over these words.

He wants to reach out to you, to grasp you and bring you back to him. Because he’s trying to let go of the past so that he can focus on loving you fully as you are.

Sure, you can forgive him, but he needs to forgive himself first. He’s not quite fully well yet. He has to be patient.

A soft exhale leaves his lips. “Thank you. For forgiving me.”

Yet another sweet, beautiful smile spreads across your lips. It’s the smile that haunts Mark’s dreams. “You’re welcome. And thank you again for everything.” As the waitress appears, returning Mark’s credit card that he had graciously used to pay for the meal, you stand with your bag.

No, you can’t be leaving just yet. “Stay in touch, okay, Mark?”

But he has to let you leave. The day will come when it’s right. “Yeah,” he manages, swallowing the lump in his throat. Yet as he watches you walk away, he can feel that that string of fate he had always believed tied the two of you together slowly wearing, twisting, breaking.

—THE FINAL TEAR.

“What do you mean we should break up?”

Your voice is scandalized, angry. Mark simply keeps his gaze to the living room floor, eyebrows furrowed in complete unhappiness. He never wanted it to end like this, but he’s run horrible with thoughts that the things he did brought pain to you. It’s time to end it. Not because he wants to, but because he should.

“We just should,” he responds bleakly. “After what happened, I think it’s clear that we’re not good for each other.”

It’s been a month now since you’ve been discharged from the hospital. After you had convinced your doctor that you weren’t addicted to drugs and in need of rehab, you had gone home. Mark had luckily had enough saved to pay off your hospital bills; neither of you wanted your parents knowing. “Mark, it’s okay. I told you it’s okay!”

“No, it’s not. It’s not just because of the overdose. Things have been like this for a while now.”

You attempt to grab his hand. If he allows himself to bask in just one moment of your kindness, he’ll give in. You beg, “Mark, please, hang on for me, for us. I promise things will get better, things can change.”

He snaps, pulling his hand from your’s. Your eyes widen up at him, shocked and appalled at his sudden movement. “No! Can’t you see? You didn’t even take that much. I took more coke in my first snort than you took in that entire line. The overdose shouldn’t have even happened, but look, it did. This is wrong.”

“What, the drugs? I’ve been telling you that. Please, we can get better. We can find help.” The fact that you’re still pleading him with kind, gentle eyes, makes this all worse. It only further proves that you’re good. He’s not.

“No, not the drugs. Us.”

“Us?”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head in frustration. “We’re not right for each other. This isn’t working.”

“What do you mean? Tell me why.”

“We’re just not… destined to be together. What happened, it was God’s way of telling us that this is not right. We’re not right for each other,” he explains, voice exasperated as he tries his best to explain the mess of his thoughts.

This seems to take you aback, your voice finally rising. “Oh, so now you care what God thinks?”

No, not really. But sometimes he has to listen. He doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I’ve been more than willing to make this work for two years, Mark. You think any of this was easy for me? My first boyfriend and he’s a freaking drug dealer for God’s sake. I tried to take it all because I loved you! I took care of you when you were hungover, I waited around shady areas at night so that you could drop off deals, I stuck with you for everything. Fuck,” you shout, causing Mark to tense. You rarely curse, and based on your usage of it now, he knows just how upset you are. “I even overdosed and I’m still here. Yet it’s always you pushing me away, making it difficult. Why are you running away from us?”

He’s not running away. “I’m not running away,” he declares. “I’m letting you run away.”

“And what makes you think I need to run away from you?”

“Because! You heard yourself, don’t deserve those things. You should have someone to take care of you when you’re sick, not always be the one fixing me when I’m sick. You should have someone to walk with you through the shady areas. That’s not me. I’m not… right for you.” He finally spits it out, eyebrows tightened together as he releases the thoughts that have been on his mind for a month now.

You’re silent for a moment, taking in his words with your arms crossed over your chest. When you speak, your voice has returned to its normal speaking volume. “You told me that you believed in fate, that you believed in us. Is this fate? Fate that we met, and fell in love, and broke up? Is it fate that you hurt me over and over again and I came back, every single time? Because if that’s fate…” A single tear falls from your eyes, though you wipe it away so it’s as if it never even existed. It seems even you have some pride now, not to cry in front of him. “It seems like your idea of fate is pretty messed up.”

Mark takes a large breath, looking away to gather his thoughts before looking back to you. You’ve both come so far since that night, the image of her clouded by the purple lights, the energy of the party. Now, all that glamour is stripped away. It’s just you and him, as you are. “You had to meet someone like me, so you can know what you deserve.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to call it quits, and blame it on destiny?” Your tone is mocking, questioning his reasons and probably his sanity.

“I’m not calling it quits,” he immediately retorts, responding sharp and quick. “I’m letting you go.”

“No,” you say as you approach him. “You’re giving up. On us, on everything we worked hard to build. Our trust, our relationship, everything.” Your finger digs into his chest, pointing an accusing blame. “I broke up with you,” you emphasize. “Not the other way around. I broke up with you because you tugged me around, you pushed me away, and you never listened to me. I got tired of it, and broke up with you.”

With that, you pull away from him, though when he finally comes to realize the weight of the conversation you just had, he sees you grabbing your bag and slipping your white ballet flats with purple bows on. “Y/N.”

He wants to say he’s sorry, because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He hadn’t planned for the conversation to go up in flames.

Whenever you walked out during arguments, there was always a promise to call later, to talk when your minds were stable. But now, as you turn over your shoulder, walking out of his apartment and life, you muster a goodbye.

“Don’t call me.”

—3 MONTHS CLEAN.

“Senior year!” Lucas yells as he throws open the front door with the power of the Hulk, startling Mark who’s still unpacking some boxes of cookware in the kitchen. “It’s our time, time to shine!”

A soft laugh leaves Mark as he places some cups in the cupboard. He and Lucas had left their apartment for two months for the summer to return to their homes, but here they are, back and ready to take on their final year. They had finished middle school and high school together, and now they’ll graduate college together. It makes Mark smile.

As he leaves the kitchen to greet his best friend in the living room, he sees that the guy has already brought in a number of his boxes. “Hey, man,” calls Mark, who leads Lucas in for a dap.

“Hey yourself, you barely talked to me this summer,” Lucas chastises playfully. “Ignoring me, I see.”

Mark laughs, shaking his head. “Not ignoring, just… working on myself.”

“Good,” responds Lucas, turning to bring in the rest of his boxes. Yes, Mark had spent the entire summer dedicating himself to the lost cause that was himself. He started working out again, got a job, and even worked on rebuilding his relationship with his mother. Things were looking up for him.

He feels ready. Lucas’ voice interrupts his thoughts. “Hey, wanna take a break and get some food?”

His question meets a raised eyebrow from Mark. “You just got here, like, two minutes ago.”

“And?”

A laugh leaves Mark’s lips, and he shakes his head. “Nothing. But, uh, I can’t. I was going to go… see Y/N.”

“Oh?” asks Lucas, leaning down to tear the tape on one of the dark cardboard boxes filled to the brim, probably with Lucas’ pillows; the man was like a giant baby, sleeping with ten pillows. “You called her and asked to meet up?”

“No,” responds Mark, who follows these words with a deep breath. “I’m going to go see her.”

Lucas stands straight once more, his playful expression from earlier now serious. He shoots Mark a soft smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Nice. I’m happy for you. Are you leaving now?”

“Uh, yeah, I was planning to go after I put all the kitchen stuff away.”

Lucas’ grin grows even wider, stretching from ear to ear as he gives Mark a little pat on the bum, which is supposed to be encouraging. “Well, then go get her, tiger! Good luck, man,” he yells supportively as he pushes Mark out the door.

As he shuts the door, Mark blinks. “Dude! I don’t even have shoes on! Or my car keys,” he laughs, banging on the door.

Some time later, Mark finds himself hesitating as he parks his car a block down the street from your sharehouse, the same place he had kissed you, that many years ago. He doesn’t even know if you still live here. You had been broken up since the beginning of your junior year, who knows if you had decided to move out?

He contemplates this as he walks down the sidewalk to your place, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor. Surely, if you’re not there, one of the girls will point him in your direction? Hopefully.

Oh, but you are there. As your home comes into view, he sees you. You’re there on the front porch, dressed in a simple white skirt and the same white ballet flats with purple bows that you can never seem to grow out of.

But you’re not alone.

There’s a man with you, though his back is turned to Mark’s view. He blinks. His steps stop completely. Surely it could be anyone right? A neighbor? A classmate?

But that’s impossible. Not because class doesn’t start for three days or because you and him met the neighbors on all sides of your house, but because you lean up on your toes, the way you always did with Mark himself, and kiss the stranger’s cheek.

It would have been easy to lie to himself, but then it’s much too clear. He realizes it then as he stares, only a few steps away from the path that would have led to your steps, the steps he took when walking you back on your first date, intertwined hands swinging between the two of you.

He’s too late. Maybe much too late.

He was a fool all this time. Thinking that he could be better for you, that he could defy fate with his free will and urge the universe into letting you be together. Lucas was wrong; life isn’t free will, neither is love.

This is his fate, there’s no use denying it.

He stands staring for a few moments, simply gazing in complete desolation at the sight before him. This is it, this is the end. He’s ready to submit to his poor fate, the internalized idea he’s housed that he’d never be able to find a love like yours ever again, but then you see him, probably because he stands out like a stain of black paint on the green canvas of your lawn.

He doesn’t hear you, but your lips form his name, “Mark?” and your eyes blink in confusion.

He doesn’t wait too long anyways, for he’s already turned on his heels back to his car. Fuck fate and its tendencies, giving hope where there will only be heartbreak.

—SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FIRST TEAR AND THE FIRST CRASH.

The smell of you invades his senses, but he doesn’t care. It’s one of the first nights in a long time where you’ve agreed to go to a party with him. Though other girls beg for his attention, he’s still only got his eyes on you. Your outfit tonight is much too nostalgic.

“You know,” he whispers in your ear, dancing against your backside with a hand on your waist. “You look best in white.”

“I know,” you respond, chuckling whilst dancing back against him. He had taught you how to dance a while ago, and you just keep getting better and better.

“You wore this dress on purpose, didn’t you, you little minx,” he teases, though a playful laugh leaves his throat. His words draw a knowing giggle from you, and Mark feels as though he could get drunk on the sound alone.

“Maybe,” you respond back, turning and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. This is when Mark gets a good look at you.

It’s so easy to remember the way you first appeared to him, standing awkwardly in a corner of a party just like this. This time the lights decorating the aura of this party are not purple, but his heart is all the same. You’re wearing the same outfit now, definitely at this point to tantalize him and tease him; you loved to make fun of him after he told you that he had fallen for you because of that dress alone.

But you’re different now.

You’re brighter, taller, more mature. Now you are not just your person carrying your own thoughts, but his as well. You know him, know his thoughts and his feelings, know his worries without asking. Your smile is bigger, it reaches your eyes more now than it did that first night, a forced simper at the strange guy coming to flirt with you. You dance with more confidence, you carry with yourself a quiet strength despite your hesitant nature.

He loves you. God, he loves you. He tells you just as much.

With a hand over your hip, he pulls you close. You think he’s going to press another tipsy kiss to your lips, but he doesn’t. Instead he brushes his lips to your ear and he whispers, so softly you would have missed it if you hadn’t been purposely filtering the party’s music to focus on his voice: “I love you.”

You blink, and stop your dancing. It’s the first time he’s ever said this to you.

“Mark…” you start, lips parting in surprise, but he’s pulled away to smile sweetly at you. It’s not flirtatious, the kind of smile he gives you before attempting to pull you in the bathroom for a quick one. Nor is it the knowing grin he shoots before guiltily asking you to go refill his drink. It’s a small one that barely touches the tips of his lips, and the look alone makes your heart melt in espousement. “I… I love you too.”

You had told him, of course, the other month when you had tore him apart in his bedroom after finding him hungover. But this time it’s real, and in the future you both will choose to remember this as the first time.

Some might think that it’s unorthodox to confess such strong feelings such as love in the middle of a party, sweltering with the heat of dancing bodies and the musky smoke in the air. But for the two of you, it doesn’t matter. It’s just you two in here; you only see each other.

—3 MONTHS CLEAN, ONE HOUR LATER.

Mark’s currently in his room, completely bare except for his bed and desk, sulking away. When he had returned home with a bitter lilt in his steps, Lucas didn’t need any explanation, stepping out to “meet Yuqi.”

Of course, it had been Lucas who had put him in this place of thinking he could get you back but in the end, it was only himself that he had to blame. He never had the chance, it was his fault for thinking he ever did.

He’s learned his lesson.

It’s only an hour later when Lucas knocks on the door again. Fuck, Mark thinks inwardly while rolling his eyes. It’s only the first day back, has this giant managed to lose his keys, again? He makes his way out to the door, already preparing to give Lucas hell for being so irresponsible, but Lucas never makes his appearance at the door.

“Y/N.”

“Mark, I’m sorry, but—”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up at your place uninvited.” He’s quick to interrupt you, shaking his head. It’s easy to pretend to be strong; he just needs to maintain a strong front until he shuts the door again.

“It’s not that, I—”

“I won’t do it again, I promise. I know you said you wanted to move on and I shouldn’t be surprised, it just hurts to see it, and so, I’ll—”

“Mark—”

“I hope that you’re very happy, and that he can make you happier than I di—”

“That’s my brother, you daft idiot!” You finally cut him off, voice rising to a volume louder than his. He had flinched at your sudden peak in volume. You give him a pointed look, and when he doesn’t dare speak again, you continue. “That’s my brother, Mark. He helps me move in every year, you know that!”

That’s true, he does know that. And he’s met your brother many, many times. Shit, he realizes.

“... Oh.”

“Mark Lee, you think I could move on from you that quickly? It’s been like, two months!” You scold him, as if the idea is preposterous.

“Well,” he reasons. “Technically we broke up a year ago.”

You seem to have the energy to argue back. “Okay, but I only really let you go when school ended this year.”

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment following your words, before you both start to laugh. You crack first, trying to remain serious when all you want to do is envelope him in a hug, for how could you ever love anyone else? You can’t even imagine trying to date anyone right now. He follows right after, shoulders relaxing as you start to chuckle.

“We look insane right now, you know,” he says, sighing as his chortle comes to an end.

“Yeah, and I’m insane because I drove like a madwoman chasing after my ex because he saw me with my brother,” you say with a pointed tone, to which Mark sighs.

“Okay, in my defense, I saw him from behind, and you are awfully touchy with your brother!” He starts, when you begin to laugh again, pure amusement breaking out across your visage. Wow, just five minutes ago he had been regretting all his life decisions, yet here he was with you again, making conversations like you had years ago in your relationship.

When the laughter dies down, the two of you are left staring at each other, and reality sets in. Yeah, he had run away when he saw you with your brother of all people, and you had chased after him, your ex. Where does that place you?

Mark speaks first, breaking the short silence. “I’m sober now, you know. I haven’t done anything, anything at all, in three months now.”

Surprise seems to claim your face at the revelation, and he’s not sure if he should feel proud that he managed to shock you with his success or saddened that it seems to be that much of a surprise. “Oh?” Your surprised expression is replaced with a smile. “I’m proud.”

He nods, unsure what to say next, but luckily you add on, “What made you decide to stop?” You’re undoubtedly reminiscing on all the times you had begged him to give it up, to which he would stubbornly resist.

“You.”

Your features contort into an incredulous expression. “Me.”

“Really,” Mark urges. “I…” he pauses, preparing himself for the words about to leave him. He had long pondered over this moment, wondering if it would truly happen. “I lost you, and I know that I said it was because we weren’t meant to be together but somewhere along the line I realized, I can live without weed, and parties, and alcohol but I can’t live without you.”

“Mark…” You start, lips parted as you grow silent.

“No, please, let me finish, I don’t want to take all the credit because it was Lucas who had to come and knock some sense into me and make me see: sure, fate can be real and that soulmate shit might be real too because I believe you’re mine, but I know that everything is a choice, including love.” His mention of Lucas has you smiling, and he has no doubt Lucas has talked to you recently, attempting to be the middleman once more. “I love you, there’s no doubt about that, I love you more than I love partying, my friends, or anything. And if I love you that much, there’s nothing that can keep me from you.”

He grasps at your hands, and thankfully, you don’t pull away. “Not God, not fate, not anybody. Only me. I was the only thing keeping us apart. I want to be with you, I want to make things better, and I promise… I promise I’ll do everything in my power to be the best for you.” Mark takes a deep breath, taking a moment to glance down at his hands holding yours before looking back to your eyes. “I can’t promise that I won’t have relapses. But I promise that as long as you’re there for me, I will be there for you. I’ll walk you through the shady areas, I won’t run away.”

“Mark—”

“I don’t know if my words will be enough for you to take me back but I swear to you on my entire being that I will be here—”

“Geez, Mark does sobriety make you extremely prone to interrupting, or what?” You butt in, but you laugh, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. Whether it’s you natural shine or tears building in your eyes, neither of you know. “Don’t even go there, or explain anymore. Of course I’ll take you back, you idiot. You think I would chase after you like that if I didn’t think about running back to you every day?”

This causes him to laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I was waiting until I was good enough to run to you.”

“You ran away earlier,” you point out teasingly, and he rolls his eyes, pulling you close over the threshold of his apartment.

“That was the last time.”

Your hands find his chest, resting upon the expanse of it as you look up at him with a cheeky smile. “Better be, mister.”

“Oh,” he muses, as you wrap your fingers around the fabric of his shirt and all feels right again. “You’re bold.”

“A year apart does that to you,” you smile, still a hint of shyness on your lips as you finally tug him in, kissing him. You melt into him and his hands immediately find themselves on your hips, just where they belong.

Oh yes, there it is again, that feeling of euphoria. You’re the only drug, the only high he needs.

#NCT-WRITERS #mark lee angst #mark lee smut #mark smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee fanfic #nct angst #tw: smut #tw: drugs #tw: drinking

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waithyuck · 4 years

Text

cold

pairing: vampire!huang renjun x reader (f) *halloweenie special*

genre: smut, supernatural au

word count: 3k

warnings: blood, biting, blood drinking, brief descriptions of gore (I guess idrk), explicit language, degradation, sexual content (oral, facefucking), no aftercare, mentions of being killed, renjun is a mean dom :/, reader is kinda weirdly into the whole vampire thing **unedited**

a/n: this was kinda written in a rush but I tried my best to produce it in the best quality I could! I hope y’all enjoy 💕 (I also wanna add that yes, it was already planned that there wouldn’t be any penetrative sex in this)

< previous | next >

~10/24/2020~

~~~~

walking home from work at eleven o’clock at night was probably the worst mistake you could have made. even worse, you thought it would just be such a great idea to take the back alleys, since it was faster and all you wanted to do was lay down on your bed and go to sleep.

you were an idiot, straight up.

you were walking with your head down, too preoccupied reading something on your phone to notice and be alert of your surroundings. you didn’t notice the creeping shadow coming up on you from behind.

when it grabbed you, you weren’t even able to scream; it covered your mouth immediately and shoved you against the brick of the building next to you. when you looked to see what it was, your body froze in horror.

this man–thing...no, creature, was standing before you grinning sinisterly, his sharp canines bared to you as he drank up your figure with his glowing, blood red eyes.

well, this was it. you were going to die in the hands of something you were pretty sure classified as a vampire. you didn’t stand a chance, not with the amount of strength, speed and stealth this man had already showcased to you.

you couldn’t make a sound, the fear inside you suffocating your lungs and making it hard to breathe. the man didn’t utter a word to you, and as he inched his fangs closer and closer to the vein pulsating in your throat, you squeezed your eyes shut and awaited to feel your death.

but it never came.

the weight of the man-creature-vampire thing was lifted off of you, his cold presence gone in an instant. you heard blood curdling snarls ringing out in the darkness of the alley, and you were too afraid to open your eyes to see what was happening.

you imagined that it was basically a fight between two vampires, and the victor would claim you as the meal. you should have run, but your legs were weak as the fear still consumed every cell in your body.

you were basically dooming yourself.

the wild growls finally ceased when you heard a loud crack of bones snapping, followed by a cut off yelp.

you assumed one of them was now dead, and finally you opened your eyes to take in the sight before you.

there stood another creature; much younger than the previous one by the looks of him, standing over the body of the now dead vampire. it’s head was severed from its body messily, the neck snapped clean off to where you could see the spine poking out in its place.

you wanted to throw up.

when the younger vampire looked at you, his blood red eyes squinted, and he moved closer to you in seconds, using his super speed to crowd you back against the brick wall. you whimpered, but didn’t feel as much fear as you did before, and you managed to keep your eyes open as you stood before him.

his nostrils flared as he sniffed around you, and it surprisingly didn’t weird you out as much as it should have. truth be told, even in the dim light of the moon, you could tell that this man was highly attractive. you cursed yourself for thinking this way about a creature that could easily tear you in two.

you were torn from your thoughts when you saw two fingers snap in front of your face, making your body jolt in return.

“the fuck are you doing out this late?” he suddenly questioned, his voice not at all like how you were imagining it to sound. it was soft…it wasn’t a voice you would have paired to be with a vampire. “it’s dangerous as fuck out here, you know.”

he was speaking so casually, like he didn’t just rip the head off of one of his kind. you sputtered out of cheer nervousness (and a little bit because he was so dazzlingly attractive), not knowing how to respond. his blood red eyes practically rolled out of his head at your pathetic attempts to speak.

“humans are so pathetic, seriously.” he spat, looking you up and down. “I don’t even know why I saved you. you smell good enough to devour.” his smirk, paired with the last part made your spine straighten, your hair prickling at the sense of possible danger.

“n-no!” you finally managed to blurt out, your hands coming up to instinctively cover your vulnerable throat. you wracked your brain to try to figure out how to negotiate with him; to get him to leave here without draining your body of life and blood.

unfortunately, only one thing came to mind, and you hated yourself for thinking it in the first place.

...you couldn't deny that you kinda had a thing for the whole undead, blood sucking, super strong creature shit he had going on. a million and one flashes raced through your mind, showing you different scenes of this stranger taking you up against the brick wall right here, and even biting you just to have a little taste.

it was fucked up, but you could stop your thighs from clenching at the possibilities.

he quirked an eyebrow at you, his smirk never leaving as he leaned into your space even further, flattening your body to the wall with his own.

“no what?” he practically purred, his cold breath fanning against your skin, causing goosebumps to form instantaneously.

“I’ll…” you started, weakly meeting his strong gaze. “I’ll d-do anything...j-just don’t kill me.” you tried to sound strong but there was a shiver in your voice, your chest trembling as you tried to speak. you saw his eyes flash with mischief before he pulled away entirely, giving you your space back.

“okay.” he nodded, his lips still presented in a smirk. “I’ll come find you whenever I need a favor.”

you couldn’t even ask him to elaborate or question him on exactly how he would find you, because in an instant he was gone from your sight, vanishing away and leaving you in the darkness with the still laying dead body of your first attacker.

with a quick shake of your whole body, you practically ran home, slamming the door shut and locking everything, including the windows.

you weren’t sure when to expect to see the vampire who saved you again, but you didn’t think it would take him two weeks to show his face.

you were minding your own business in the safety of your home, throwing your dirty clothes into your bedroom hamper when you heard a soft thud come from your window.

turning around, your eyes met the same red ones from that night two weeks ago, and you had to fight yourself not to shriek. his face was stoic as he stared at you, decked out in all black from his hoodie to his jeans, lowkey making your mouth water.

“hey there,” he said, slithering closer to your form. once again, he cornered you against a wall, not caring to give you any personal space. he inhaled softly, his nose living closer to your neck. “you smell absolutely delicious, darling.” his sharp canines were on display as he smiled mischievously at you, your heart racing in your chest at not only the fear, but the proximity of this attractive man as well.

“um, h-hello.” you muttered out stupidly, wringing your hands together in front of you.

“let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” he stood up at little straighter as he spoke, his eyes glinting as he looked at you. “you owe me a favor, and I’m being generous enough to let you choose what you want to give me.” he looked down at his nails, feigning disinterest as you were practically hyperventilating before him.

you nodded your head to acknowledge that you were hearing him, and he took that as a sign to continue.

“so, what will it be?”

you thought back to the thoughts you were plagued with that first night, and you almost immediately clenched your thighs. you really wanted this vampire to have you, all of you, even your blood for fucks sake. it’s like the sight of him cast a spell on you, and all you wanted to do was have his cock shoved down your throat as he did his best to ruin you completely.

you knew he was capable too; there was an aura around him that screamed dominance, and having the extra factor of being a vampire did nothing to extinguish your lewd sexual fantasies.

it was really fucked up, but you made your mind up in less than a minute.

“you can bite m-me.” you squeaked, looking anywhere but him. you swore you heard his breath hitch, but he nonetheless crowded you once again as he nosed into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“hmm, tempting.” he allowed the tip of his nose to graze softly against your sensitive skin, causing you to shiver as it tickled you. his sinister eyes flicked up to meet yours. “are you sure?”

with a small nod you agreed, your brain screaming at you to run and never look back, but your core telling you the very opposite.

his hands found your waist as he grounded you, holding you steady as he finally began to scrape his teeth along your flesh.

“I won’t take too much,” he muttered, almost like a reassurance to you. before you could even nod, he quickly plunged his fangs into your skin, and the pleasurably painful sensation immediately had you moaning out loudly.

you gripped his shoulders tightly, your eyes glazing over as your whole body pulsated with a sudden need, the burning hot pleasure running down from where he was currently biting you to your core, instantly causing your panties to flood with your desire.

he took a few large gulps, and once you began to feel lightheaded, he pulled his fangs from you, moaning at the taste of your blood.

not being able to hold yourself back, you spoke very through that came into your head.

“I w-want your cock,” you breathed out desperately, not sure exactly where the statement came from. it was so sudden and out of the blue, but he didn’t seem fazed for one second.

“oh really?” he questioned playfully, his blood stained lips quirking up in amusement.

“”yes, please,” you begged in response, gripped at the fabric of his hoodie tightly.

he hummed, his throat vibrating with the sound.

“get on your knees.” he demanded, his demeanor changing as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. he pointed to the ground in between the both of you and at first you were shocked at his words, even though you were the one who admitted you wanted him in the first place. you pressed your back against the wall even tighter as he gazed upon you with his blood-red eyes, your woozy head spinning.

“h-huh?” you managed to sputter out stupidly, causing him to sigh in annoyance. he shot his cold hand up to grip your throat, his nails squeezing into your skin slightly as you squeaked in surprise.

“you said you wanted my cock, right?” renjun growled, getting closer to your face with each word. you managed to nod shyly in his hold, your eyes wide and glassy as you stared back at him. he smirked, “then get on your fucking knees. don’t make me tell you again.”

he let go of you neck and returned his hand to his side, your eyes watching his every move before you finally shook yourself out of your stupor and lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. you didn’t really know what to do with yourself at that point, so you looked up at him with wide eyes, waiting to see if he would say anything else.

he rolled his eyes, scoffing as he reached for the button and zipper of his black jeans.

“dear fuck, do I have to fucking hold your hand through all of this?” his voice was icy and biting, but you still felt a warm shiver crawl up your spine as your core clenched at his words. he finally was able to undo the button and zipper and he then pulled down both his pants and underwear, leaving his almost fully hard cock out in the open on display for you.

he gripped your hair suddenly, forcing your face toward his crotch roughly. “put it in your fucking mouth, slut.”

you didn’t hesitate then, opening your mouth while using a hand to guide him past your lips, immediately swirling your tongue around the sensitive head. he groaned out above you and reached a hand to rest behind your head, not pushing on you just yet.

this wasn’t your first rodeo, so you were able to almost instantly take him all the way down your throat, only having to work up to it about three times. when his cockhead hit the back of your throat, you gagged a bit but it paid off to hear his moan cry out above you. you looked up innocently at him, bobbing your head up and down with your cheeks hollowed, drool dribbling out of the sides of your lips, adding to the messy look.

“that’s a good girl,” he breathed, his hand rubbing the back of your head almost tenderly before he shoved you completely down on him, your nose pressed against the skin of his pelvis.

your eyes blew wide and tears were prickling, but you willed yourself to relax, your throat slightly constructing instinctively around the intrusion in it.

“can I fuck your pretty face?” he growled out, finally letting you up for air. you pulled off to breathe, spit connecting your lips and the head of his angry red cock.

you managed to croak out a rough “yes”, your voice already hoarse from the few minutes of action it had been through. he gave you no time to prepare before he reached down to cup your chin and jaw in one hand, opening up your mouth before he roughly thrusted inside.

it sounded so filthy; the sounds escaping you were not cute and you were a bit embarrassed, but you were enjoying every second of the abuse to your mouth and throat. your panties were most definitely ruined at this point, and you could feel your pussy pulsating with every rough thrust of his cock down your throat.

“fucking take it, slut,” he grunted, his hips never ceasing their movements. you tried to breath through your nose as best you could, and were grateful for the small breaks he would allow you before going to town once again.

you braced your hands on his thighs as his pace quickened, his hips sloppy as he chased his high. there were no words shared and no derogatory comments spit at you as he grew closer and closer, his growls and snarls only growing louder with each passing thrust.

the sounds he was making were almost enough to get you to cum untouched, the mental stimulation almost overbearing as you felt your core tingle in need for him.

there was a nagging precense in the back of your mind that told you he wasn’t going to fuck you like you so desperately wanted him to, and there was a part of you that was perfectly okay with that.

the vampire let out a loud growl before he coneoktelt buried himself to the hilt down your flexing throat, your head knocking into the wall behind you as his cum shot directly down your esophagus.

it was uncomfortable, but you managed to swallow what you could before he pulled out and shot the rest of his hot cum all over your awaiting face.

you basked in the feeling of each shot landing on your skin, and you closed your eyes. your body felt as if it had no energy left, and you barely noticed him pulling his pants back up and fastening them closed in one swift movement.

you were right about him not fucking you or returning the favor, which was fine considering the lack of strength you currently had. the burn in your core was slowly fading along with your physical and mental strength.

as you lay slumped against the wall, his cum painted on your face and mouth, you mustered up the strength to look at and found him perched on your windowsill, ready to leave.

“what’s your n-name?” you croaked, your eyes barely open.

you could make out a smile forming on his lips.

“renjun,” he quickly responded, a lightness in his voice that you hadn’t heard before and that was a complete contrast to his earlier tone.

“and don’t worry, darling. I’ll be back for you.”

and in a quick flash, he was gone, and it was like he wasn’t ever there in the first place.

#renjun smut #nct-writers #neothestars #neowritingsnet #huang renjun #nct smut #nct #nct dream #nct dream smut #renjun #nct scenarios #renjun scenarios #nct dream scenarios #halloweenie special

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fandomtookoverlife · 3 years

Text

Spiral

Pairing: Hotch x fem!reader

Summary: you received some life-changing news the day before, now you’re trying to keep focus and get a confession out of an unsub. Keeping focus has never been so hard, with your mind spinning and Hotch sending you further down the rabbit hole. Somehow things get even worse when the psychic unsub announces your news for all to hear.

Note: italics are reader thoughts

Warning: anxiety/panic attack, break down, swearing

Word count: 1.7k

Category: angst(?)

A/N: this is not based on the cm with a psychic. Def channelling my own breakdowns while writing this, I hope it comes off how I intended.

I might do a second part where we learn of Hotch’s and reader’s relationship and we then jump to his reaction

Back story: in my mind the reader and Hotch like each other fucked, it became awkward and here we are

Other blog: @mac99martin

Masterlist

---

Fuck psychics, sitting there all-knowing when everyone knows they’re full of shit, you don’t like psychics on normal days, when they’re unsubs, you hate them even more. Fuck psychics.

Ok maybe your new found hate for psychics isn’t totally about them, (although the one in front of you definitely plays a part in it) you may have found out some very stressful, very shocking, life-altering news yesterday and you also may not be dealing with it very well. And by not dealing with it well, you mean not dealing with it at all. You've been avoiding and ignoring it, the rational part of your brain is telling you that this is not something you can ignore, but the other part of your brain is absolutely terrified and is using the case as an excuse not to deal with it. And you are using your dislike for psychics as an outlet for your emotions, is it right? No. is it healthy? No. but it’s helping and you’re freaking out so what are you going to do?

Speaking of not helping, Hotch is with the unsub now. Not only is he not getting anywhere with her, but he is also so horribly distracting. You seriously need to focus but looking at him, all it’s doing is sending you into a spiral. All you want to do is put this unsub behind bars but your mind is fighting with itself: one part actively fighting to keep your brain far away from the topic that will remain nameless and unthought about. The other going in circles of panic and anxiety and terror. The unsub is helping the first, she’s a handy distraction. Hotch is helping the latter, you so much catch a glimpse of him and you revert into the frenzy that is your mind. Fuck, this fucking sucks, ok come on can’t focus on that, you can’t cry or stop breathing that can wait till later, now you need to focus.

And that’s where the loop starts all over again: Focus-Hotch-Spiral-Focus-Hotch-Spiral...

-Focus You’re so lost in the war going on in your mind you completely lose all sense of reality only noticing that Hotch is not only no longer in the integration room when he calls your name.

You try your best to snap out of it and control your breathing, but looking at Hotch, Hotch looking at you, you feel like you're shaking while your body remains perfectly still, your heart is pounding and you stop breathing. Okokok-breathe, focus, what’s going on right now.

“Sorry, what was that?” Ok not bad that sounded pretty normal if you do say so yourself.

“I asked what you thought.” His voice was stern and annoyed but his face looked worried.

Snap. The. Fuck. Out. Of. It. “Oh um,” wait who’s said what, shit I really should have been paying attention. “Well clearly she wasn’t responding to you,” ok pretty good, actually now that you think about it she wasn’t responding to any of the male officers when they arrested her, “and she didn’t respond to the male officer earlier, anytime she talks to a man she becomes confident and flirtatious” Flirting: Hotch-Spiral, Focus “we should see how she reacts to a woman.”

Ok, so you had your ups and downs but all in all that went pretty well. You avert your eyes from Hotch’s, focus focus focus focus… “Ok you’re in.”

“Wh- me?”

“Yes… you.”

You know what? this can be good, small room, nothing to focus on except the case, no Hotch, ya I can do this. You give a nod, pick up your file and walk into the room.

“Hello Ms.Shaw, I’m ssa Y/N Y/L/N.” you look down at your file making a show out of opening it while also keeping an eye on her.

When Hotch entered earlier, doing something similar, she straightened her back and leaned forward, making a show out of her breasts, she half smirked and half-smiled when she looked up at him.

When you introduce yourself she sat back in her seat, crossed her arms and glared at you. Unlike when she saw Hotch, she looked very displeased with you.

You sat down across from her and gave her a smile, she narrowed her eyes and furthered her glare towards you. She eyes you up and down for a second before practically sneering at you, “what do you want”

“I just want to talk” you put simply

Maintaining eye contact she leaned forward “Bet you do”

At this point, with Hotch, she had a smile on her face, enthusiastic to speak with him. Right now, she’s almost challenging you, she’s even getting defensive.

“Probably want to talk about those murders you think I did”

“The murders you did do” you respond all while having a sweet smile on your face. Won’t that just piss her off, and it does.

She just hums in response, her face stone cold, staring you up and down, and then, she smiles, “I think we should talk about you.” She says it almost sweetly but you can tell that there’s mischief behind it.

“Oh?”

“Ya, you’ve been… busy lately…”

you really couldn’t guess where she was going with this at this point, nowhere good so, “as have you” you retort back.

“Hmm, but in different ways,” she smirks

Hell ya in different ways, I’ve been working my ass off and you’ve been murdering people.

“See I’ve been busy working, as a psychic, I use my power to help people, it’s very time-consuming-”

Right power, helping, you don’t have and you don’t do shit

“While you,” she looks you up and down again, “have been getting a very different sort of busy, haven’t you?”

….wh- what is she- what is she even implying right now?

Busy like- and that’s when you’re reminded of your… state. Remembering hits you like a ton of bricks, solely because you had forgotten, the thought has your mind clouded again and your anxiety spiking.

You’re back down a spiral, get back on topic this isn’t the time, “I’m not sure what you're getting at.” Breathe, “Oh come on, you know,” and she looks down again, if the table wasn’t in the way, you would say that she’s looking at your stomach, no no she’s not why would she- how could she- your mind is biased, it was already thinking about that and it jumped to conclusions, get back on topic. You can’t be thinking about this now. -focus.

She leans in but doesn’t lower her voice, glancing up at the mirror, she’s very aware that people are listening in, and she doesn’t mind, “you’re pregnant”

Wtfwtfwtfwtf no no no no, how could she possibly know that, you just found out, it’s not like your showing, she can’t know, how the fuck did she know that?

She can see it all over your face, your mind is jumbled with thoughts again and you’re freaking out.

She just sat back and smiled watching you break down, but she wasn’t done yet.

The people behind the mirror couldn’t see your face to see how bad you’re freaking out, that mixed with their own shock, they weren’t helping, not that they nor you would know how they would help.

“You looked surprised that I know that, you doubt my skills” skills- what- psychic- whatever

“Or maybe you’re just in shock, you just found out recently right,” she clicks her tongue, “must be quite the surprise.” You feel so overwhelmed, this was supposed to get you away from all of that, your spiralling again, unable to pull yourself out of your break down that has been going on since you found out. Once again just the thought, the reminder, has you feeling like you can’t breathe, like you're going to be sick, like your head is spinning. “I can see this is a lot for you, but I think you’re forgetting one thing,”

Spiral-spiral-spiral forgetting? Wha- wh- spiral-spiral-spiral-Hotch

Your heart stops, you look her dead in the eye, you can see it, the mischief, she knows, she opens her mouth to say something- “SHUT UP” you stand up and yell at her. You’re panicked and desperate,

Your outburst shocks everyone behind the mirror, but it only makes her smile wider, “what you don’t want everyone to know?”

“STOP” your losing it

“Or you don’t want him to know?”

(ok fine, maybe she is psychic)

“SHUT UP” you scream, your voice is cracking and your breaking

“What you don’t want everyone to know your pregnant and that one of them got you-”

“STOP!” You slam your hand on the table and your eyes are watering.

Morgan busts through the door, taking you into his arms and steering you out of the interrogation room and into the viewing room, only giving the unsub a glance as he slams the door behind him.

Once you are in the viewing room you turn away from your team, your eyes still glossy, you’re shaking, you can barely breathe, that panic attack-mental breakdown you’ve been putting off, it’s finally catching up to you, and your feeling every second of the overwhelming… you don’t even know, just everything, and still trying to hold it in as you hyperventilate and remember the people around you.

You do your best to hold in your emotions for a little longer as you go to leave the room, away from people. You hear Derek’s voice, “how much of that was true?”

One more second one more second one more second,

In out, in out, in out, “every word” is all you get out before you lose it and you basically run away.

“Shittt,” the event weighs heavy on the team’s mind as they make sense of what just happened, “well, it wasn’t me.” Morgan, trying to lighten the mood best he can

The team looks around the room “Well it certainly wasn’t me” Rossi horrified at what has just played out in front of him

Spence's face goes absolutely red when Derek looks at him; he doesn’t have to say anything because as hotch speed walks out of the room, it is very clear who the father is.

“Shitttt”

---

Tags: @spencers-renaissance @averyhotchner

(I’ll tag anyone in part 2 who asks for it in the comments😘😘)

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dontcallmecarrie · 3 years

Text

stress + commute + relentless plot bunny = tada, continuation to this!

"Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour.” Director Fury said as he settled down into his chair, eyeing him with a wariness one would normally give a live bomb, while at his side, Agent Romanov remained eerily impassive as she surveyed them both. “We’ve got some questions I get the feeling only you can answer.”

For his part, Justin Hammer merely leaned back into his own chair and steepled his fingers with an easy smile— which wasn’t as easy as he made it look, with the way he’d been cuffed. “Like I told the guards the first time, and the fifth, and the twelfth— if I knew what’s going on, I’d tell you.”

Though he could make a very reasonable guess, between Ivan’s latest experiment literally blowing up in all their faces and the whispers he’d been able to catch from the guards.

“Sure you would.” Director Fury said, no small amount of disbelief in his voice, and he shrugged.

“Take it from me, I’m about as happy as you are. You think I asked to get dropped smack-dab in the middle of some supermax? When I had a shareholder’s meeting coming up?”

“You appeared the same time an energy fluctuation was registered in several locations around the world.” Agent Romanov said, and Justin blinked.

“Oh?”

“Your existence is being kept classified, on pain of risking an international incident. Several countries’ systems and power grids were apparently caught up in whatever it is you’re a part of, and they’re not nearly as nice about getting their answers as we are.” She continued, the picture of reason, and Justin couldn’t keep the fondness from his smile because some things never changed, did they?

Of course SHIELD’s shadiness was a fundamental constant. And these guys probably thought they were being so subtle, too; Agent Romanov in particular seemed to think she knew him, which would undoubtedly come in handy in the future but was merely a nuisance at the moment. Not that it hurt to play along for now, but still.

Come on, give him some credit here.

“Which is all well and good, but the fact of the matter still stands: I. Don’t. Know. All I know is, one minute I’m caught up in the middle of some accident, thinking I’m going to be seeing pearly gates a whole lot earlier than I’d expected, and the next, these gentlemen—” Justin indicated, giving a slight nod to the security guards standing just out of earshot, “are giving me a...interesting welcome to Seagate, let’s just leave it at that.”

He’d be feeling it for a while, at the very least. Thank goodness for brief stint with the rugby club had taught him how to roll with the hit, otherwise some of the bruises he had would’ve been even uglier than they already were. As it was, getting changed into the stupid jumpsuit they’d forced him to wear had been a trial in and of itself, when simply bending over stole his breath away with the way his ribs twinged.

“That doesn’t answer our question.” Director Fury said, even as Agent Romanov leaned forward slightly.

“We can only help you as much as you help us, Justin.”

He couldn’t help the snort, at that. “What do you want me to say? I’m not some expert in what, dimension-crashing or whatever? Look, I’m not stupid, I saw my twin— or whatever you call him, anyway, I’m not sure how any of this works. Hey, how’d he mess up, anyway? I know I’ve made some poor life choices over the years, but those were mostly terrible haircuts and all-nighters during grad school, not...nothing on this scale.”

Nobody was stupid enough to alienate the CEO of the Hammer Industries, not when they were number one in the defense industry. Not when Justin had enough connections and favors piled up over the years to render him essentially untouchable to anyone but the heaviest of heavy hitters— and even then, they’d have to think twice before going after him.

...in his universe, anyway.

Which begged the question: just how badly had the Justin of this universe fucked up, for him to be in supermax? He needed to know the playing field before he could make any moves, especially if he wanted to secure anyone’s cooperation in getting home.

“You saw him?” Agent Romanov’s brow furrowed for a moment, before leaning back into her chair. “They hadn’t mentioned that.”

Justin let the corner of his mouth twitch up, as he also leaned back and shrugged. “These guys? Yeah, I’ve noticed they’re not exactly the chattiest.”

Director Fury’s frown deepened for a moment, before he gave him a searching look followed by a sharp nod as he stood up. “We’re transferring you into our custody. This matter has gone beyond their pay grade.”

With that, he turned and strode towards the interrogation cell’s entrance, Agent Romanov at his side and Justin rubbed his temples for a second at the impending headache because if this was what he thought it was, he was either going to be dealing with the Avengers, or be disappeared to whatever shady hole in the wall SHIELD had that’d make this place look like the Ritz.

...which also meant the rudimentary plans he’d been working on would be useless. Damn.

He took a deep breath, and let it out, and pretended it didn’t bother him, even as he watched Director Fury get into what appeared to be a very heated conversation with the prison warden. He couldn’t hear anything, not with the inch-thick bulletproof glass that separated the interrogation cell from the rest of the building.

As it was, the warden gestured for the guards to escort him back to his cell with his usual scowl, and Justin was good enough to know a power play when he saw one and oh, it was going to be that kind of mess, wasn’t it.

In the five minutes he’d had the dubious pleasure of meeting him, Seagate Penitentiary’s warden had come across as a jackass who liked to boast about running a tight ship but didn’t actually do anything for it— the epitome of a big fish in a small pond. Which was typically something he could get away with, but if this Director Fury was anything like the one Justin dealt with, then this particular encounter would be the only thing the guards’d be talking about for months.

And then.

The lights flickered for a second, and Justin froze.

So did the guards who’d been about to escort him back to his cell, some of whom were already reaching for their taser guns and he could already feel one of the guards starting to shove him forward when an unholy screech tore through the air and Justin knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what was happening as he caught a glimpse of familiar silver moments before the entire area plummeted into darkness.

Cabal was here.

Victor von Doom was a practical man.

So when his part of the plan had him working with a Winter Soldier who was still in the early stages of recovery from the mindfuck HYDRA was responsible for, he didn’t so much as bat an eye, just made sure he had a few extra backups for if things got hairy.

Which they did, but not for the reasons he or Soldat had expected.

For one, the interference of SHIELD— which had been something they’d picked up some chatter on, but not enough for concrete dates and he was not happy to find that if they hadn’t broken in when they had, Justin would’ve been snatched up and disappeared off to somewhere even harder to reach.

...if not for the fact that their plan required surgical precision, Victor would’ve given into the temptation to shoot something. Or someone, he wasn’t picky.

But needs must, so he gritted his teeth, coldly noted who said what during their eavesdropping, and stuck with the plan he’d formulated because Justin and the others were counting on him.

For his part, Soldat was a great partner for this aspect of their mission; even though he’d never done fieldwork like this before, and was not used to working with a magic user, he rolled with the punches and the guards never saw him coming.

Sometimes literally, because one of the few things Victor had mastered was a basic illusion— the magical equivalent of a flash-bang, sure, but it worked. Sure, it took a lot of focus for both of them to pull it off, but the important part is that it worked and their exit was as clear-cut as they could make it.

So when he and Soldat approached, he gave the signal and Soldat tapped his comm with a muttered, “objective secured,” and Victor didn’t question the odd echo because they had far more pressing matters at hand.

Such as the sight of his oldest friend in a prison jumpsuit, face slightly gaunt and glasses cracked and just like that, Victor found himself regretting telling Soldat about Cabal’s usual ‘no-kill, minimal collateral damage’ MO.

But.

They were on a time crunch, shift change was coming up and it took everything Victor had to stick to The Plan.

One flash-bang later, and Soldat did his part beautifully, a whirlwind of chaos and Justin’d helped him and Winter plan out theoretical combination attacks well enough to know to duck to the side and with that, the most vital part of this entire operation was secured.

“Victor? I’m assuming it’s you.” Justin blinked the stars out of his eyes even as a familiar hand reached over to help him up, and he took it gratefully. “Good to see you too, Winter—”

“It’s Soldat,” the man corrected gruffly even as he ushered him along, and Justin blinked.

“Oh, my apologies. Thank you, Soldat.”

“Introductions later, we’re on a time crunch,” Victor cut in, voice unusually flat and the last time Justin had seen him this angry had been during that HYDRA mess— what was going on?

Seeing his concern, Victor’s expression lightened for a moment and he gave him a quick smile. “Catch you up later, but we really need to go.”

Victor stared.

He couldn’t help it— just.

At his side, his Justin looked at the rest of their allies with concern, even as his counterpart started to pale and hyperventilate and how was this his life?

#No Hero [Downward Descending]#schrodinger's canon #My writing

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writingsbychlo · 3 years

Note

Oh you just put me on a Joel mood with that headcanon! If I'm not wrong I think you did a headcanon or just told us one of your ideas a while ago that involved Joel arriving at the safe place in the mountains and meeting the reader there and she's like this badass chick and he just falls head over heels for her but his a little shy and a bit self-conscious... do you have anymore 💭 about that???

oooohhhh yes yes i have that draft going on still, but it's been there for a while, so lets make it headcanons for the meantime;

no more requests, the sleepover is over! I am just filling out all the ones left in my inbox!

okay, so, joel is a little clumsy

and yeah, sometimes he freezes up

he's come a long way since his days of panicking and silently crying in the bunker, okay?

but, he still isn't epic

and then he meets you, and holy shit, how his whole life changes

because, you're like some kind of superhero. you're like the black widow of the apocalypse

he is simply sent out with a team as a cook. he hates that his only job is to forage for berries and decide which cuts of meat he can work with

and then he sees you in action, and he thinks he falls in love

because you're so fucking badass

and you don't even break a sweat

but, he's scared

because he doesn't know how you could be so badass in the face of danger, and he actively avoids you

in his mind, he's already written you off as rejecting him, and he kinda lives in that hurt that hasn't actually happened yet

the last time he tried to speak to someone as cool as he sees you was before aimee, and he can still hear laughing in his head and the clench in his chest

so he doesn't bother

it's the third time he's sent out on a scavenging and hunting session with you, well over a year after he met you, when you talk to him

"hey, you're joel, right? I'm (Y/N.)"

"I know. I mean, I don't know that. well, now I do, and I did before, but that makes me look creepy, and- shit- uh, hi. I think."

and he is absolutely certain that laugh is coming

and a laugh does come

but not the kind of laugh he was expecting. this isn't mocking. this is just amused, sweet, kinda cute, actually..

"well, I knew you were joel before I came over. you're joel who makes great food out of basically nothing. you're kinda famous, you know."

"oh, about as famous as you are, then? the badass who's scared of nothing."

and then you're blushing, and taking a seat next to him, and he's pretty sure he might hyperventilate, because did he do that?

"those are lies. I'm scared of a lot of things, I'm just good at dealing with it, I guess."

"so, you agree, you think you're a badass?"

"okay, regina george. I am pretty badass."

"I'm so glad you got that. coulda' ruined this whole thing."

and then you do that sweet little laugh again, and he's kinda proud of himself

"I hear you can draw things. can I see?"

he gets to show off some of his drawings, and you sit with him practically all night

until you get sleepy and wander away tor est before the morning, but he can't sleep, because he's practically buzzing

the next day, that really comes back to bite him in the ass

you're almost home, so damn close, and yet so fucking far

because nobody saw it coming, and he fucking freezes again

and of course, he gets himself pretty injured

some bad cuts and scrapes

and he's fucking embarrassed when you inevitably save him

he can't even look you in the eyes, actually

walking in silence all the way back

and sulking off to his cabin, not bothering to talk to anyone

he doesn't really talk to anyone for days, because he's humiliated

the only reason that breaks, though, is because you catch him off guard

"are you avoiding me?"

"yes. everyone, actually. crippling embarrassment and the low-key wish to be swallowed up whole by the ground will do that to a man."

"and, what exactly made you feel like this?"

feeling like he's being mocked, and scoffing, and almost walking away

but then you look genuinely confused and a little hurt, and he feels guilty

confessing that he hates that he can't be more useful, and that he feels weak

and pretty much just pouring out his heart

blushing, like really fucking hard when you run your hand through his hair and tell him it's okay

"y'know, you shouldn't feel embarrassed. it's not like we went through training for this. high school classes weren't biology, literature, monster-killing combat, maths. it's okay to be scared."

getting even more embarrassed when his eyes flick down to your lips, and he's pretty sure you saw it, too

"can you teach me, though? that's a good idea. lessons."

"you want me to teach you what?"

"to be brave."

"I think you're already brave, joel."

getting all flustered again, but he kinda feels like his ego is being built up, and he feels a little better about himself

"but, if you want, I can teach you how to fight."

"yeah, I'd like that."

he hates it to begin with

because that's a lot more physical exertion than he was ready for

which makes sense, because he's seen you do some stuff that would have him floored, without even breaking a sweat

and he didn't realise quite how heavy a sword was, but he struggles for a while

and, it results in a fair few scrapes and injuries

a lot of bruised shoulders as he learns to shoot and isn't prepared for the kickback

and a lot of little nicks from swords and knives

and even trying to sharpen arrows

but, he gets there

he gets a lot less clumsy, and he gets a lot stronger

and he feels a lot braver

"you have to choose something to focus on. I heard about your journey to find aimee. find something like that to focus on again, and when you get scared, think about that instead."

"what do you think about?"

"I think about my mom."

it leads to a deep story, and a lot of confessions by the fireplace that night. really baring your souls to one another.

and he loves it, because he gets to cup your cheeks and wipe your tears away, and you end up falling asleep on his shoulder, face pressed into his neck

he carries you to bed, and when he's leaving, you grab his hand for just a second, and tell him to "stay a while", and he does

so, the first time he really gets to put his skills to the test, it doesn't go so well

he doesn't freeze up, but he fumbles a little under the pressure, and fucks it up

but you weren't there, and you're what he focuses on, and he couldn't think

the next time, though, that goes really well

he's fucking proud of himself

because this was one hell of a trip, you've been away for three weeks and that was three weeks of time together

he got to do some drawing, and lately you've become his muse and you tease him for it but he teases you back and it makes you blush in that way he loves

and the next time he gets to put all his new skills to the test, he fucking smashes it

he doesn't freeze up, and he doesn't panic

he thinks about your pretty smile and his head stays clear and get feels so fucking badass

and when he finally gets back to the little campsite set up, he's still hopped up on adrenaline

it's probably the slight sting of a bite on his shoulder, or the blood and dirt he knows he's somewhat covered in, and the ache of a hard hit to his ribs, but he's practically high on it

and you're worried for him

he finds you with your legs crossed on your bed, drawing in his sketchbook with charcoal and you look so worried for him

he drops straight to his knees, your hands on his shoulders and thumbs pushing under his jaw as you inspect the damage, and he doesn't care

he just pulls you closer, until he can bump the tip of his nose with yours

close enough that he can feel the sharp intake of breath you make

"I'm gonna' kiss you so good you hit the clouds now, m'kay?"

"kept me waiting long enough." and you barely get it out, he doesn't let you, because he can't wait any longer

he's never felt more like a badass than this moment.

#9ksleepover

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childish-ish · 4 years

Text

kismet

pairing: michael myers x reader

soulmate au; soulmates that make choices for each other.

part two!

"Bro. I got this bitch ass pimple on my face - what should I do?"

soulmate chooses: let it do it's thing.

"What a bitch. When i meet my soulmate I'm gonna fucking punch 'em in the fucking neck." You sigh, then snicker right after - "If i can even reach them."

Usually, you start off your day with a huge huff of cocaine and a box of Kelloggs™ cereal with the milk with the purple lid. Just kidding! You don't eat Kelloggs, instead, you eat Lucky Charms! Mostly for the marshmellows. Anyways.

You get dressed. Having been naked and looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror, contemplating on whether popping the 3 pimples on your face - one above your eyebrow, very - not visible. Another on your cheekbone - the other on your nose. You popped the one on your nose and washed your face, yesterday, so two pimples.

Anyways. You dress in regular jeans, pull over a plain grey t-shirt over your head, and slip on some socks, then your sneakers, then a hoodie. You checked over yourself and decide you look hot as fuck, and step to your bed, pull off your phone from your charger, shove that bitch in your pocket - and leave.

soulmate chooses: take a bus to school.

"Awh! They care about me <33."

"Hm." You look over the choices you get to pick - buy a donut or have a balanced breakfast.

"Haha!" You laugh, clicking on the 'balanced breakfast'. "Homeboy gonna eat good tonight. Whether they fucking like it or not."

You exit your home, keys in your pocket, and a lollipop in your mouth. You totally forgot to the brush your teeth, but gurgled some mouthwash hoping it would be enough.

You jog towards the bus, enter said bus, and sat next to your friend.

"Hey, kiddo." She waved. Neon pink hair clashed with black hair as it fell over her left blue eye, a major contrast to her paper white skin. She wore a black hoodie with some red symbol, something to do with creepypasta, black pants with large rips, fishnet tights under, and regular ol converse. Red, to be exact. Converse Chucks, to be exact.

"Shut the fuck up, don't call me that." You pull out your phone and lean down, entering your password as the bus begun to move.

"Ah, babygirl, you know that turns me on, aha - " She bites her lip and rubs her hand together like she was rubbing in hand sanitizer.

"Ah, right. I love you."

"Ew." Cheesebird laughed. Some random ass nickname you gave her because she didn't like her name.

soulmate chooses; go to classes

"Ugh." You roll your eyes - had thought about skipping class.

You look over your choices. steal a car, or walk.

Well. You don't want your soulmates feet to hurt.. so. Steal a car.

After the bus pulls up to the school, you exit with Cheesebird. You're a Senior in highschool.

You enter first period. Homeroom.

You sit in your assigned seat, thankfully, next to Cheesebird. You two discreetly passed notes, never getting caught - only once by a substitute.

"Hey, so, i know a neat place to go trick-or-treating. You up for it?" Cheesebird asked, placing her Gir themed backpack next to her feet, under the piss yellow desk -

You shrug. The day carrying on, kind've. You're in fourth period. Gym, when Cheesebird asked you the question again.

"Honestly, I'm thinking of starting in tonight. I have this fucking weird ass bad feeling.." You rub your bare arms, feeling unusually comfortable in the red booty shorts the gym made you wear.

"I can respect that. After i get all my candy, I'm gonna dip over to your house, is that okay?" Cheesebird asked, fiddling with a lollipop stick. She ate the lollipop already, stealing it from someone's backpack because of her soulmates choice - so the stick acted as a candy cigarette of some sort.

"Yeah, that's chill. What are you gonna be?" You swing your legs back and forth. Ankles crashing against the bleachers, giving you a dull pain.

"I'm gonna be a goblin. You know, if i were to guess what you were going to be, you would be a fucking astomi. Cause like, I'm gonna be a goblin.. and you're basically a goblin.. and i don't like talking.. except like, with you." Cheesebird explained awkwardly. She begun to chew on her lollipop stick.

"Yeah, i got it." You chuckle.

soulmate chooses: apple, water, and chicken nuggets.

"Oh, sick." You nodded.

"Oh, did your soulmate choose something? What was chosen your majesty?" Cheesebird asked.

"I got chicken nuggets for lunch. Want them?" You ask, looking over the freshmen that chose to play volleyball on one side, and basketball on the other.

You turn to Cheesebird, watching her eyes peek up.

Her eyes flick to you, and she nods with a smile, "Thanks bro!"

"Ah, yeah." You breathe, "No problem."

You look over your choices. clever or chef's knife.

You make a look, furrowing your eyebrows and jerking your head back slightly before choosing chef's knife.

"Another? What'd you choose?"

"My choices were clever or chef's knife." You tell her with confidence.

"Holy shit - your soulmate is a cooker! Lucky.. mines a fucking idiot."

You snort. "Lucky you.. mine could also be a murderer." You shrug.

"Hot." Cheesebird wiggles her eyebrows at you. "Oh, dude! Remember that guy - Boogeyman of Haddonfield?"

"Yeah."

"Dude, they say he escaped some institution! They might cancel Halloween cause of his bitch-ass." Cheesebird rolled her eyes and leaned back.

"Ah, what a fuck. If it actually gets cancelled, you wanna come over and watch some movies? Maybe order some pizza?" You offer.

"Oh fuck yeah man! Thanks." Cheesebird laughed, clapping you on the shoulder once.

"No problem!" You say enthusiastically, punching Cheesebird on her bare upper arm.

"Ow! Fuck.. you whore." Cheesebird sucked in a breath.

You laugh, quieting down and patting ehr on the thigh. "Wanna go to the lockers? It's almost time to go. Like, 15 more minutes.." You say absentmindedly, gazing at the red blinking numbers.

"Oh yeah. Let's go." Cheesebird was ready to hop off. You count down to 3 to 1 and jump off the bleachers with Cheesebird, jogging across the court and entering the locker room.

soulmate chooses: wash face

I didn't even do shit, though? You shrug off the thoughts and get undressed after putting in the combination for your little locker. After shoving your gym clothes into said locker, you pull on your clothes, slipping on your shoes easily and picking up your backpack. You jog over to the bathrooms, go to the nearest sink, and splash your face.

You look up - the choices; grab a water or get a beer.

You choose water. Gotta stay healthy.

You wait by the gym doors for Cheesebird. And, hooray! She comes. Don't take that out of context.

Lunch speeds by. So do your classes. After school, you walk home with Cheesebird and say your goodbyes. You pull out your keys, inserting the key and unlocking the door.

You enter, closing the door behind you. You toss the keys on the stand next to the door and kick off your shoes, throwing off your backpack and jogging to the living room. You recieve a call from your mom. Saying that she was gonna be late. Maybe coming in around midnight or even later.

soulmate chooses: order pizza.

"hey cool."

And, you do just that. You call some pizza place with breadsticks, grab some money from your room and jog back downstairs. You watch Adam Sandler movies while you wait for the pizza.

The doorbell rings after 15 minutes of waiting. You jump up and run to the door. Opening it and seeing a cute pizza boy.

"Thanks." He salutes, recieving a tip from you.

You call back a 'no problem' and shut the door, placing the pizza on the table in front of the couch. You lie down, pulling a blanket over you.

soulmate chooses: take a nap.

You feel so.. tired now. Fuck it. Let's go to sl-

You awake. The T.V. off, lights out, and warm-ish pizza. You were obviously disoriented. You go to pull out your phone from your back pocket once you sit up.

The brightness blinds you - you quickly put it at a lower brightness.

You yawn, vision vlurry before it subsides and you quickly look over your notifications. A text from your mom 'hey honey, gona b stayin l8r than usual luv u'. You smile, rubbing your eyes and holding your phone with one hand.

You stand, flashing your flashlight. You drop your phone - gazing at the large figure in front of you.

"Who.. are you?" You take an anxious step back, you can feel a stream of cold sweat stream down the side of your head - from your temple. It was fucking disgusting. So.. so dark.

You see the glint from his hand - a knife. A knife. A knife. A knife. He has a knife. He has a knife. He has a knife. Run. Go. Run. Go. Go. Through the backdoor. Now. Fucking GO!

You turn on your heel and bolt through the living room and through the kitchen. Why did you even fucking ask that? 'Who are you' - like?? You don't know him, and he's in your house. Like?? You should've just pulled a knife. Just kidding! You would've been too fucking pussy to do that :\

You inhale and exhale heavily - otherwise known as breathing. You were really close to hyperventilating - but somehow, you slow down your breaths as you quietly slip through the backdoor.

All you wanted to do - you sob in your mind, was eat some fucking pizza - you heave, as you shuffle towards the backyard entrance, that lead to the front yard. And maybe watch some fucking pornhub.. all my plans.. ruined.

soulmate chooses: go back inside your house.

You choke. Eyes growing uncomfortably hot, your bottom jaw trembled as you clench your arms, hugging yourself. Was this - this fucking stalker your soulmate?

You did have control of your body as you calmly walk back through the gate. Your eyes well up, tears blurring your vision. You wipe the tears away and wipe them on your hoodie harshly. You trace therock trail that lead around the corner of your home.

You enter through the backdoor. Closing it behind you gently. You huff, and turn around.

You immediately make eye contact with large breasts that were covered by a dark blue fabric. A zipper in the middle and a single pocket.

"So.." You begin; voice cracking. You feel your face grow hot out of embarrassment. After clearing your throat and looking into the black holes of the mask that mocked a human face, covering the whole ass fuckin head of the tall, buff male, you instantly feel small. You rub your hands together, clenching your hoodie in your hands now.

"Uh.. what's uh - what's your name?" You come to a realization of how fucking stupid that was. Asking a large scary man what his name was - he's your soulmate! A part of you pleaded for some reason. Anyways, we live for the confidence.

You gawk at the man - wasn't he "Michael Myers? Killed - killed.. four teens back in -" you couldn't remember the year. All you could honestly think about the man that was looming over you threateningly. Where the FUCK was your mom?!?

He painstakingly slowly brought up a hand, and dropped it onto your shoulder. You feel tears well up in your eyes once more as you shake under his hold.

"H - hey.. aren't we uh.. soulmates? Sh - should you really be h - HOLDING me that tight?!" You squeak, now trying to pull away. "I'm - not fucking going anywhere - "

The Boogeyman brought up his other hand and let the hand fall on your other shoulder, the hold gradually getting tighter.

You could barely see his actual eyes, due to the not-so-bright moonlight. Despite this, you see some irises..

"I - i.. I go to school.. " You blurt, "I - I have a f - family."

He didn't respond. You get anxious quite quickly due to the circumstances. You feel your eyes well up as he fucking gripe you tighter before picking you up and throwing you over your shoulder like a dead body. His actions were clear - they said 'you aren't fucking getting away'.

He held you with one arm, caging you in over his shoulder. You sob softly, but couldn't help but admire his nice ass as he walked towards the front door.

what's to become of me?

You thought. You couldn't scream - could you?

You couldn't believe you missed Halloween for this shit. You could still see some kids - they would probably run away due to their fragility.

Fuck this. We are not fucking dying. We're soulmates. But what kind of fucking soulmates does this shit? I wish my soulmate was Adam Sandler.

michael: you the bitch thats been making HEALTHY decisions for me??

you: no..?

#michael myers #michael myers x y/n #michael myers x you #michael myers x reader #slasherslikebeetroot #slasher x reader #slasher #slashers x reader #yandere slashers #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere slasher x reader #yandere michael myers x reader

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Note

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a thirsty thot about one of your favorite fictional babes. Go on and spread those shameless hoe vibes and your legs.

Sooooo this should come as no surprise to you given our recent messages my dear, but your neighborhood clownass hoe is gonna take this as an opportunity to RANT and scream into the void about my absolute filthiest Charlie fantasies right fucking here 📣🤡

**Warnings: 99% of people in the universe should probz never read this. I AM SERIOUS. The shit below the cut contains some hardcore kinks and triggering things (extreeeme degradation etc.) so read at your own risk!!!**

And if anybody tries to kink-shame me then fuck you very much bitch 😤 Ftr irl I’ve never done and probz would never do this kind of stuff (but don’t judge anyone who does) – for me in actuality it seems a little too physically and psychologically rough, not to mention dirty and dangerous. But in theory I desperately NEED Sir Charlie Hunnam to dominate me and degrade me and destroy me all day every day, in literally every way…

So that’s what’s happening below the cut okayyy 💁🏻‍♀️

Also let me just say… what follows isn’t poetry. It’s straight up shameless hoe-etry. I’m gonna type this in a total stream of consciousness, because I need to get this off my chest, bitches I just – *hyperventilates in horny* – even my super kinky fics just barely scratch the surface, and right now I honestly just need an outlet to express the full extent of my sick twisted Hunnam-worshipping idolatry 🍆🛐

With that said though, if anyone does read this and relates to it in any way PLEASE LET ME KNOW?!??! via private message or anon ask or whatever it’d just be so nice to know I’m not alone in being such a hardcore Hunnam hoe!!!!! (I realize I probably am tho and that’s ok I guess lmao 🙈)

Ok so here we go…

Just to mention again:

WARNING that the following is potentially TRIGGERING and sick and twisted and tbh FUCKING DISGUSTING

*ahem*

Oh also to mention again that this is not my usual style of writing at all, I’m just mindlessly blabbing and this is barely even english loll 🤡

Ok so this applies to Charlie Himself but since the ask is about fictional characters, I’m going with my savage sex god king Jax Fucking Teller!

Basically I want to exist only to worship this god of a man 24/7 and be his live-in slave / house pet / fuckdoll / personal motherfucking urinal / whatever the hell he wants like ngl I am his fucking PROPERTY and he owns my whole heart and soul and obviously my body.

I want him to fucking use me and abuse me and treat me like shit. Like I’ll spend all day just cleaning his house or whatever other service he may need or locked up in a cage or a dungeon or something and then he’ll just fuck me and/or torture me whenever he feels like it. I would get ‘Property of Jax Teller’ tattooed onto my fucking chest or my face for all I fucking care. He can sit on me like a fucking chair. Like step on me with those iconic white Nikes or just his bare feet and grind my whole face into the floor. Then laugh at me for being so pathetic, while he mocks me for how bad I want his dick, savagely shaming me for being a subhuman piece of scum dying to serve him as his whore…

Ok I guess now I’m starting to rhyme, it’s second nature since I do this all the time 😂

I’m in love with this gif, as I feel like it captures the vibe of Jax snarling ‘yeah lie there and cry little bitch my big dick is the reason you live’

Anywayyy, I would very much like to choke on his cock literally all day every day. Like it must be PURE HEAVEN, to gag on that 24/7 🤤 Break my jaw sir then if I’m a good bitch bless me with your sweet creamy load, plz just shoot your delicious cum all over my filthy face or deep down my pathetic whore throat 🍆💦

Omg and his BALLS, I want them to be fucking dripping with sweat and I’ll slobber it alllllllllll 🥵

And like don’t even fucking get me started on his asshole???????????????? I want to bury my face in Jax Teller’s magnificent ass so damn desperately bitch it’s UNNATURAL. Like srsly HOW THE FUCK IS DAT ASS SO DAMN GORGEOUS IT’S MAGICALLLLLL… ✨

LOOK AT THAT PEACH FUZZ THO. LOOK AT IT. NOW U SEE WHY IMA HOE. I MEAN LOOK AT IT. LOOK AT THAT SHIT. 😚🍑

I would spend all day licking and kissing his muscular cheeks with that sweet peachy fuzz, then he’d tease me for being so desperate for him to allow me to bury my face in his hot sweaty crack, and when he finally does… I’d be like omggggg thank you sirrrrr holy shit fuck you taste so good Jax… 🤪

Like no, I mean it I want to SUFFOCATE to fucking death in that glorious ass because I am his ass-worshipping hoe and what a divine way to go?!??!?!?!??!??!?!! 😵

Of course the whole time while he sits on my face he’d be stroking his cock, or ordering me to do that while he spouts off obscene dirty talk… calling me his little ass-cleaning pig or his personal piece of toilet paper whore like what even is dignity anymore lol what the FUCK 🧻

I would also LOVE it if he spits on my forehead while I eat his ass like sir YASSSSSSSSS 💦

Then pull his perfect asshole off of my lips every now and then so he can slap me super fucking hard across the face I mean complete facial disgrace and spit in my mouth ‘cause THAT’S WHAT I’M ALL ABOUT 😛

Like this scene when he did this to Ima ⬇️ ……… I knowwwww it was awful and so problematic, but WANT HIM TO DO THIS TO MEE because I live for Jax Teller’s spit and I am an ADDICT 😭

Uhhhhhh where were we… I’m lost in subspace with these thoughts and that gif and ughhh bitches my consciousness is going BLURRY 😵‍💫

So yes I’m obsessed with the concept of shoving my tongue deep in Jax Teller’s shithole, yes I am DISGUSTING I know just a little 🙈

(I feel like this is where I emphasize again that this is all just theoretical. **I DO NOT DO THIS AND HAVE ZERO INTEREST IRL** and even just in theory, I have zero interest in rimming anyone other than Charlie really 🙅🏻‍♀️)

Ok ummmm what else… well let me just say that I want to sniff and lick his sweaty pits and kiss his feet and suck his toes because every inch of this sex god is stunning as hell?!??!?! 🤩

⬆️ Like when he’s GLISTENING with sweat the golden god he is after that famous scene in Belfast I can’t get over how fucking good he looks and wish I could just taste and smell 😍

(Again let me just say I’ve NEVER had a sweat kink or an armpit kink or foot kink irl)

What else what else oh and if ever Jax should condescend to fuck my worthless little cunt, I want it to be very rough and dominant, like hard and fast and have him spank my ass and pull my hair and choke me till I literally can’t breathe and remind me I’m a nasty slut and this is what I want… I’d get off so hard to the sound of his savage sadistic taunts, animalistic groans and growls and grunts… 🔥

Oh and LOVE the idea of Jax stomping his foot on my head during sex, omg sir I beggggg, also step on my neck, I’m a wreckkkkkk…

I guess now I’ll mention that I want master to whip me till I literally bleed, maybe while I bend down and kiss his feet and thank him for the privilege of punishment and pain from him because it’s everything I fucking need??

Sir is punishing me simply for existing in such absolute inferiority. Obviously. I want him to call me disgusting and worthless and filthy. Destroy every inch of my nonexistent dignity honestly.

Then I want to gaze up at his flawless face while I swallow down every last drop of his glorious golden god juice by which I mean his piss, because bitches THAT’s pure fucking bliss 🚽

(Again irl I have NEVER and would never ever ever actually want to do this!!!!!)

Ok now that I’ve ranted about being Jax Teller’s fuckdoll and urinal, maybe I’ve covered it all?? What else is there lol… (I know there is at least *one very seriously disgusting kinky thing* that I haven’t mentioned and if you are thinking of it, then the answer is YES I want that too, I literally have no limits, there’s NOTHING (*in theory*) for this fucking god of a man that I wouldn’t do… the dirtier and more degrading the better because my inner slut has serious issues!?!!?!)

Ok I’m sure that I’ve forgotten things but honestly just EVERYTHINGGG because (in my filthy nasty theoretical fantasies) Jax Teller is my reason for existing and my motherfucking savage sex god KING 👑🛐

… aaaaand that’s my thirsty thot 😅

ok now back to try and be a good responsible professional and focus on my workday while I’m all horny and hot 🤡

#charlie hunnam #jax teller #sons of anarchy #soa #hello my name is clownass hoe 🤡#SERIOUSLY KINKY SHIT THO #tw: degradation #tw: verbal abuse #tw: slapping #tw: spitting #tw: just… everything?

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btswishes · 3 years

Text

Love me for who I am now

Bucky x Reader ( Chapter 1 )

Part1 / Next

Summary: You apply for the Stark internship and end up getting it, so now you have 5 months to make a good impression to continue working with the Avengers.

A/N: This is my first Marvel fic and I am taking it as a challenge. It is opposite of what my account was made, but here I go. Sorry for any mistakes made, hope you enjoy it even a tiny bit.

Word count: 3,281

Warmings: fights, harsh language, not part of the original MCU

Y/N- Your name Y/L/N: Your Last Name

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

Through sleepless nights and dark circles, books and pens, through months of work you reached your goal. The moment you received the acceptance letter from Stark University you almost flew out the window without a fear in your mind. This was it!

Time had passed since that moment, but it is still engraved in your mind- a memory keeping you strong during the hard midterms and piles of work, even the small glimmers of regret. Trying your best wasn’t an option, you could do only that and no less. It was no easy task, lost social life as much as you tried to keep it. You were really lucky you had good friends that understood and supported you. University wasn’t easy for anyone making this one even tougher. People of all ages, backgrounds and cultures were piled up with you in this building. The best of the best as the slogan said, the ones that proved themselves and emerged victorious.

When you were young ,you used to spend a lot of time with your uncle at his places outside the country. He would introduce you to his work colleagues and things you had never seen before. There was a time where you would spend months on end with him. Not many memories were left from those moments in your head. At one point you spend a few years with him, your mother thought it would be good experience for you and it turned out to be nothing but the truth-at least you hoped so. You learned a lot from him and his friends, it felt like each spend day would offer you more knowledge in areas you never knew of. Computer work, ways of thinking and so much more that had become second nature to you.

The sky was tinted in a wash of oranges, reds and yellows bleeding one into the other, swirling around the sun emitting them. The day was ending, but you found yourself filling up an application in the library, covered by the silence and smell of exam worry.

Sponsored and founded by the one and only Tony Stark, this establishment offered an internship. Being part of the Avengers, Tony didn’t let just anyone from the students attending in, even if they were the best labeled by the school. It had been a year and a half since you started pushing yourself harder to be able to apply and there was nothing that could stop you. Pressing your finger over the enter button was very nerve wrecking yet simple. Even if it didn’t work out this year, you planned to do it again and again ,till he had no other choice but give you a chance.

Usually F.R.I.D.A.Y. went over everything and left only the applications worth going over by Tony himself or Pepper. The next 5 weeks for you were very stressful, but there was nothing more you could do but wait and focus on your own work. The first person you wanted to tell about this was your uncle. He went to work in some distant place where they had no internet so you switched to mail. Not as much paper under his name passed through your hands, as he had stopped answering you. You missed him, but the muddy childhood memories kind of compensated for that.

“Did you send it in?” the phone muffled a bit the sweet voice coming from the speaker

“Yeah, a few days ago actually.” You answered with a gentle sigh

“And no answer yet?” the girl’s pitch rose at the end of the sentence, amazed at that what she just heard

“I know, I know. Think about it though Nea. Who knows how many applications get submitted. Someone has to brush through them after all.” defending the situation was a form of coping for you, made you feel hopeful.

“So you are trying to tell me Tony Stark’s interface or whatever it’s called, can’t sort them out in a couple of hours? Come on Y/N! You and I both know you are trying to make yourself feel better.” The small pause made you anxious over what Nea said “Listen.” A breathy start of the sentence “ I don’t mean to brag, but I think I am one of the people who know exactly how much you deserve this. You were never the studious type, plus that you were gone for years on end with that mysterious uncle of yours. I never expected you to suddenly go for Stark University. Your dream changed you, from this quiet kid to crazy ol’ you right now on the call with me.I ain’t letting you bust yourself up over this just because it didn’t happen the first time around-”

Ding ding

Nea’s deep speech was cut off before she could unleash herself completely, by the slight ring of your phone’s notification.

“Who tf has the audacity to text while the great me is giving this legendary –“

Ding!

The second time the sound sung out made her choke up with anger, you could almost see the fumes coming out of the phone.

“WHO IS IT!” a loud hiss pierced your ear

“Maybe if you gave me a minute I could answer your question.” Pulling the call down, your finger ran over the screen to the email, making your notification lamp blink like a car. Almost instantly it opened before your eyes and you gasped. The action made you swallow suddenly and cough out a bit ,giving poor Nea an idea about the level of shock you were in.

“What?What? You can’t just almost die and not tell me what is going on.” She proceeded with a not so tasteful interrogation.

“I-…they accepted my application…” at the end a small smile flowed over your lips contorting the sound coming out

“Stop!?” she choked up as well “You gotta be fucking with me!? No fucking way this is real!”

“I am honest. It says here that they liked my skill set, my grades and the way of thinking I presented in my essay. I got the spot Nea! I fucking did it!” you threw the phone on the bed letting it bounce as you started dancing.

“Of course you did! I told you! You will be working with THE AVENGERSSSS!” at some point it sounded like your best friend was more excited than you “When do you start?”

“Well…” taking a second to calm down and re-establish contact with your phone, you looked up the schedule that came attached with the email “…ok…so it says here that I will be starting on Monday so~ in 2 days? “

“So soon! Any requirements for the job miss Avenger’s sidekick?” and the teasing begins

“A list, surprisingly.” Rolling onto your back, you held the screen away and above your face, scrolling past “ I guess my first job will be with Dr. Banner in the lab. Apparently I will be given some sort of assignments throughout the 5 months work span. I will be monitored by Dr. Bruce Banner and the grading, I guess if you can call It that ,will be done by Tony Stark himself.”

“Basically Hulk will be your babysitter.” once this girl starts teasing she never stops even in amazing situations such as this one, good thing you loved her “That sounds so cool though! You will be able to meet Captain America and Black Widow~! I am so jelly of you I swear! When you leave work make sure to wait for someone from the group to walk by, omgggg I am fangirling so much right now.What if you go to dinners with them!?AAAAA!”

“Fun thing about that.” Your eyes landed on the last paragraph of the email “It says here that I am supposed to move into the compound and stay there till further notice. The whole idea is that if I do things well I will get a permanent job. Weird…” you hummed

“Weird !? How? That is so cool! Who knows you might even become an Avenger! You will be living with them anyways.” at this point Nea was either not breathing or hyperventilating so fast you couldn’t hear it

“Don’t be ridiculous.” your attention landed once more on the thought process you had a moment ago “I don’t get one thing. They say here that my PE grades combined with my IT and overall studies make me a great candidate, but I don’t remember sports being a requirement at all, or even providing them in the first place. Does it mean that if my grades were low in that department I wouldn’t have gotten the spot?”

“I guess people of science aren’t that flexible. Who cares anyways! You got in, no ifs and buts. I am telling you, at this point you could be an Avenger.” poor girl began thinking of names and suit designs for you “ Hurry up and pack those bags before I drop by with take away, so we can gossip over Steve Rogers’s abs.”

“Um…don’t get me wrong he is super hot, I just see the Cap more like an older brother figure than anything.” It was true, you looked up to him since the first time you studied about the Civil War. Fearless, gave his life in a way for his people, astonishing man over all.

“Hey! Let me drool over him! You were always more of a Winter Soldier fan anyways.” Nea pouted audibly . Her words made some lone memory pop up in your head, but it was as murky as the rest. “I don’t know why I am interested in him. Somehow his look is very nostalgic and rugged. Anyways. ”you shook your head out of the mental image of the soldier “I will go pack up, tell my parents and fix up all my documents. Probably find some stuff from former Stark employees online. I want to have a bit of an idea of what he expects and what I am getting myself into.”

“Fine fine, you could have just said you like troubled guys. You were the one who was happy Loki got a second chance after all. I will be over in like 3 hours.” She informed you

“Hey! He deserved to redeem himself, he was used!” a firm Loki supporter as always “Ok then, see ya.”

Hanging up the call you placed your phone to charge and rolled off your bed. The email gave vague information about what you needed, but clothing wise you would still be able to come home and get stuff if you had to. What was on top of your priorities were papers, documents, all your research materials and tech. Those things had to be organized no matter what ,since they got you this far in the first place.

Nae came over as planned and you two had a nice sleepover talking about you know who. The night came and left, letting the morning find you in your bed at 11am. Your forearm rested on top of your forehead in a relaxed manner, letting enough space for an exhale to linger in the air in front of you. Your mind was going over everything that was about to happen to you. It was one of your dreams, you worked for it nonstop day in day out, so why were you so worried about meeting the rest of the Avengers? Maybe it was just anxiety or fear of the unknown, yeah made sense.

All you did during the day was make lists for every piece of tech you were binging with yourself. Things seemed to be in order, but worry kept nibbling on your bones. The moment of truth finally rolled up and so did your suitcase in front of your house. Nea came to send you off as she promised.

“Sweetie, make sure to call us every day. Eat well, don’t overwork yourself and-“ your mom went off with caution about anything and everything that came to mind

“Mom, you know I am going 3 blocks down from here right? Plus I can come home at any time I want to. I am not moving to Mars or getting arrested.” You smirked the panic away from her, giving them a big hug.

“Call me or text me when you get there.” Nea pulled you in, whispering in your ear as quietly as possible “And don’t forget to sneak me a booty pick of good ol’Cap. You know what they say-”

“That is America’s ass.” Your voice came out in a mocking tone

“That i-…let me at least finish it by myself! Geez!” she pushed you towards the door “Ok ok, go now before you spoil me something else” her arms crossed in front of her chest

The walk wasn’t that long, you were too invested in your own thoughts to notice when the time and distance had passed. The glistening windows of the compound building shined into your eyes. Your lungs filled up with a breath that they kept in for a moment, before releasing it back in the outside world. Pulling out the documents you stepped in. The fresh smelling air hit you making you close one eye for a second.

People were walking around you fast and concentrated. Some looked in a hurry, others were on break with a cup of coffee and a strain-leaving expression.

Your feet, as slightly shaky as they were, took you right up to the front desk were a lady with a dark rich red colored uniform looked at you. She flashed a professional smile, her eyes asking for your purpose.

“Um, hello. My name is Y/N -Y/L/N.” she saw the logo on your papers and gasped

“You must be the new intern Mr. Stark told us about.” She signed something and reached out “Can you give me your hand for a second.” Your fingers didn’t go past the surface of the desk when she pocked your skin. Pulling in your extremity, your palm wrapped around the spot that began to sting a bit “Don’t worry about it. This is your identification pass. Fancy, no?” she smiled winking. Her body stood up as she pointed at the elevator far in the back of the foyer.

Instructions were given with each step of the way, calming your nerves a bit. The moment you found yourself inside the elevator she pulled your hand to the sensor on the wall next to the buttons.

Recognized: Code 2514. Welcome Miss Y/N

Your head shot up when F.R.I.D.Y.’s voice echoed in the small space. The women smiled giving you a small nod and stepped out of the vicinity. Once her body was outside ,the doors slid closed. Over them glowed a protective blue light layering over the material like a soft veil.

It felt like you weren’t moving an inch. Your body flinched when the sun stung at your eyes from the window. Your gaze landed over the view of the city, as you went higher and higher, ascending into the clouds The blues and yellows were covering the inside of the elevator, such vibrant and lovely colors warming your body. For a moment your heart felt heavy- lost memory tugged onto it again. An often occurrence lately, yet you kept brushing off as deja vu.

Floor 134. Welcome to the Avenger’s compound Miss Y/N

“134!?” the numbers cracked out with your voice. The interface made you turn towards the opposite opening doors revealing a room as big as a hall, if not almost a stadium. The ceiling was high being the lid to this round area. Your heart beat increased pumping blood to your body, dilating your pupils at least twice their original size. It look amazing, almost like you had just entered heaven. The walls were white, the furniture was perfectly placed and cream colored. Stepping outside you jumped at the sound of the elevator doors closing behind you.

“Wow” escaped your lips, your hand pulling the suitcase closer. So this was the common room or the shared space. The windows were so big they were practically a wall of their own. The bright rays were making themselves at home giving the white paint a new color with each passing minute. The ceilings were probably the equivalent of 3 floors in height. There was this weird feeling of home inside, a bit of isolation maybe mixed in.

“Miss Y/N?” your head swung to the side when you recognized that shy but bright smile. Throwing the papers on top of your suitcase, you extended your arm at the man.

“Ah.” Good thing your mind automatically responds politely to people without you giving it much thought “Dr. Banner. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” you shook his hand gently a couple of times and let go ,finding the papers and showing them to him “My name is Y/N-Y/L/N.” gentle bow and a smile followed the words skillfully chosen

“Welcome Welcome. Tony is out right now so I might be the only one actively walking around the compound. Well…”he scratched the back of his neck, lightly hunching over with a sheepish smile “I am one of the people you will be working under anyways, so I guess it is good that I came to get you. I would love to show you the lab, but I am sure you would like to set up your things first.” You nodded and he showed you to your room. The corridor had 3 tall doors scattered on the walls, all looking modern and elegant.

“This is the side where usually we have our female members. Natasha and Wanda will be your nextdoor neighbors. Hope it won’t be any trouble.” Bruce looked at you ,when an aggressive shake took over your neck

“No, no. Not at all sir. I am very grateful to have such amazing heroes next to me. As a matter of fact won’t they be troubled with me here?” and here came the normal anxiety that you had for everything

“I am sure they will like you. Don’t worry about it.” Bruce stepped next to the door and waved you over “You don’t have a key or a door handle as a matter of fact. Tony’s idea, don’t ask. If you got up here on your own I assume he made the girls downstairs give you an identification implant. That is basically your entrance for everything here. Kind of an Avengers thing.” You nodded and him wiggling his fingers like a spell. Placing your hand on the door like he told you activated F.R.I.D.A.Y.

Recognized: Y/N. Access and ownership granted.

The metal frame slid open and you found yourself standing before a big room. It was nicely furnished. The desk was big enough for you to work on it and have everything around. Bookshelves empty and ready to be used on your left and a large bed on your right flush against the wall. The window was once more its own wall right in front of you standing behind the desk. The bathroom door was opening a space before the shelf the same color as the paint in the common room.

“I will let you set up. If you need anything F.R.I.D.A.Y. is always here. The room is interactive, you can ask exactly what works under the interface’s control. The door is one.Take your time.”he was on his way out “Would you like some coffee or tea?”

“I would like some tea, thank you very much.” Bruce flashed you a smile “F.R.I.D.A.Y. the door please.”

Door closed

Done as said and requested, clicking behind you.

Would you like an extensive list of my functions as an assistant?

“Please do.”

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lovely-yandere-imagines · 4 years

Text

Zipper Man Gives me the Moody Blues: Part 1

Hello lovelies~! I’m here with another commission! with poly BruAbba! If you’d like to commission me you can find the link right here or in my bio!

Notes: 18+ ONLY! This is part 1 on a 2 part commission! This is set a few years after the events of part 5 where Abbacchio has gotten his job back at the police station and even got a promotion thanks to his mafia friends.

Pairing: Poly Yandere!Bruno x Police Chief!Abbacchio x AFAB Reader

Warnings: Mention of murder, unhealthy relationships, Bruno is delusional and has a daddy kink, Abbacchio is manipulative and has a corruption kink, this one is pretty tame compared to part 2

Word count: 1,530

Description: Bruno unknowingly kills someone in front of reader and they run to Police Chief Abbacchio for help but doesn’t realize Abba is married to the very man they’re running from.

The horrible sound of body parts landing on the ground with a slosh still fills your mind as you run. Thankfully Bruno didn’t see you spying on him so you were able to slip away quietly and get some distance between you in case he realized he was being watched. You made your way to the police station, you had to tell someone about this but none of the cops would believe you or they could have been paid off by Passione. The very same mafia you expected your boyfriend to be a part of.

Hopefully, if you went straight to the Chief of Police, Leone Abbacchio, he would believe you. He had a great approval rating and he was seen as one of the only good officers in the whole city. Chief Abbacchio was part of the reason crime has been so low recently since he was elected, drug crimes were low and the streets have been much safer to walk at night, apart from Bruno’s killings Naples has been relatively safe.

If only you knew what waited for you after you had stepped through the doors at the police station, you had your mind made up, you didn’t even bother speaking a word to the receptionist as you walked past them and ignored their words of protest, Finally making your way to Chief Abbacchio’s office and pushing open the door with a determined face.

Leone was stunned to see you there so late at night but he quickly regained his composure and before he can get out a word you say “Sir, I’m sorry to barge into you so suddenly but I have some information on the murders that have been happening recently and-” Abbacchio cuts you off and asked bluntly “Well what can I do for you, you storm into my office like you own the place and now you’re telling me you have information on the Zipperman murders and you expect me to believe you?”

You feel like your heart is going to burst and call feel the tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes, if Chief Abbacchio won't believe you then you might just be killed by the very man you called your lover. “Sir I really am sorry to disturb you but this is a matter of life or death in my case…” you grimace at the thought of Bruno finding out you went to the police. Abbacchio sighs and finally specks “Frankly doll, you look like you’ve seen a ghost...tell me what you got and then we’ll decide if it really is life or death as you say.”

You feel a wave of relief wash over you and you start from the beginning, about how you had been suspicious of Bruno in Passione and how you decided to follow him tonight. How you witnessed him dismember someone without even touching them and how you’re now practically begging for Abbacchio to believe you. You also tell him how he’s the only person you could have gone to with this because you know that the cops have been being paid off by Passione.

Abbacchio sighs and smiles at you “Well I’m very impressed, it seems you’ve pieced everything together perfectly, I’m glad you came to me with this information Y/n. And with your testimony we’ll finally make the streets of Naples safe together, that is if you will testify against Bruno that is..” He sees your hesitation and how you seem to tense up, you hadn’t even thought of testifying against Bruno, the thought made you head swarm and you could feel a tightness in your chest.

“No no no! He’ll kill me you don’t understand! I can't!” you feel like you’re hyperventilating before Abbacchio puts his hand on your shoulder and tries to calm you down “Hey! Hey, it’s okay, I won't let him hurt you, I promise,” he thinks for a minute and looks you in the eye “I don’t think it’s safe here or for you to go back home, it would be best if you came back to my place so I can protect you.” You look up at him with a tear-stained face and nod and with that, he can’t help but feel his heartache for you.

Abbacchio takes you out of the back exit just in case anyone sees you leaving and ushers you into his car and within a few minutes you are at his house, it is situated in a really nice neighborhood and you can't help but think all the houses around look like miniature mansions, “I guess being Chief of Police pays pretty well huh…” you say absentmindedly you thoughts are cut off by Abbacchio’s laugh, “It does most days but it’s mostly long hours” He winks at you and you can feel yourself begin to blush. He soon guides you inside and gets you situated in the guest room.

“Are you hungry? Or thirsty? I’ll get you anything you want” You politely decline the offer of food but then ask “Actually if you have any I’d like a glass of wine, it helps me relax after a long day… or well night I guess” Abbacchio smiles and he is quick to return from the kitchen with a bottle and two wine glasses full of the red liquid. “I hope you don’t mind but I went ahead and poured myself a glass as well” you shake your head and insist that it's alright as he joins you on the bed.

“So...this is a little awkward but uh, I like your makeup Abbacchio, I don't really know a lot about gothic culture but it um...it looks nice on you!” you say cheerfully and Abbacchio smiles at you again. “You know Y/n, you can call me Leone, I have a feeling that we’ll be spending a lot of time together” He places his hand on your thigh and feel your heart racing and cheeks began to blush before you look down and can clearly see the wedding ring on his finger as you feel the color drain from your face.

“Is your wife going to be okay with me being here, Leone?” you ask quietly and he laughs again before answering “My husband actually, and I don't think he’s going to mind at all, you see we’re in an open relationship. I think he will be very pleased to have you here honestly” You can’t help but blush as you finish the last of your wine. “I’m glad he won't mind...so what music do you like?” you ask as he pours you more wine and you can see him ponder the question for a few seconds before he answers “I like a lot of different rock bands like The Moody Blues, The Cure, Joy Division, Type O Negative, and Depeche Mode... You know the basic goth stuff” He says with a laugh that makes your heart flutter a bit.

Oh, I really like Joy Division and The Cure too” you say cheerfully as you quickly finish your second glass and now begin to start on your third as you start to feel the effects of the wine starting to hit you. “You know, if it wasn’t for you Leone, I’d probably be dead by now…” he says nothing for a moment and then caresses your face and give you a sweet smile that could make any girl smile “You shouldn’t think about stuff like that Mimma, let's talk-”

You cut him off and quickly spit out “No its truuuue! If you hadn't listened to me I would be dead by now, Bruno would have killed meeee! Can you believe that ash hole, he’s been lying to me from the beginning! I can’t believe I gave that-that MONSTER my first kiss!! At least I didn't give him MY VIRGINITY” he watches you in your drunken rambling and quickly cups your chin and gives you a passionate kiss.

“Shhh, it's okay Piccolo, you don’t have to worry about him hurting you. I promise” Leone reassures you but before you can say anything you both hear a knock on the door and he shouts for the person to come in. In your drunken state, you can barely make out the tall figure that must be Abbacchio’s husband who has an all too familiar face and white suit.

“Well, well, well...I certainly wasn’t expecting this, Leone would you mind explaining to me why Bambina here is drunk?” you can see the man shoots Abbacchio a glare. He tries to explain but decides it best if he just shuts up. The second man makes is way over to the bed and lowers himself down to you and you can’t help but feel the horror and dread building in you as the man brushes your hair behind your ear and you can finally make out the distant features of your former lovers face, then Bruno finally speaks “It’ll be so nice having you here with us baby girl, we’ll finally be a family” He kisses your forehead and you can help the chill that goes down your spine. Your fate was sealed as soon as you walked into Abbacchio’s Office.

#bruabba #bruno x reader #abbacchio x reader #yandere x reader #yandere bruno #yandere abbacchio #yandere bruabba #bruno x abbacchio x reader #poly bruabba #yandere jojo #yandere jojo x reader #commission #chief!abbacchio #yandere part 5 #yandere commission #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jjab #golden wind #sfw

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rudysrings · 4 years

Text

Twin Pogues of the OBX - 1

A/N + Summary: SO I’m currently obsessed with the Outer Banks right now, and I had no idea that there was so much hype about it until I hit tumblr after watching the show. It kind of got me back into writing for a bit so I thought I would go ahead and publish something that’s been sitting in my drafts. It’s essentially a fanfic that goes through the entire show from the perspective of the reader, who is John B’s twin sister. Let me know if it piques anyone’s interest, because I don’t want to keep pushing out something that people hate lol.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, cursing, slowburn

Word count: 3056

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ON WITH IT!

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were tired of listening to the waves. It made you sick to your stomach. It didn’t help that the Chateau was so close to the water that it was all you could hear at night. The waves crashing on the shore. The waves colliding with each other. The waves fighting to topple boats that made the mistake of trying to take on a storm too big for them.

You listened for your father in every wave. You hoped you’d at least hear the ghost of your father.

Unlike John B, you had no hope that your father was alive. At first, you didn’t bother voicing that thought, but as time went on, and John B continued to have delusions, you started getting more and more vocal about your opinion. Your dad was dead. Period.

And it was time that John B accepted that, too.

The two of you may have been twins, but you were as different as two people could get. John B was, for the most part, quiet, reserved and mild. You, on the other hand, had a fuse shorter than the short end of the stick you had pulled. You were hot headed and often misjudged situations too quickly. John B was the calm before your storm. You preferred to call yourself passionate. You smoked, John B did not. You slept around with far too many tourons. John B did not. John B was a dense motherfucker. You could read the room the moment you walked in. The only thing that really bonded the two of you was your love for surfing, your love for the pogues and your love for your dad.

Now that one of those things had died, or simply “vanished,” as John B would say, all that was keeping your two member family together were the pogues and surfing.

The last few months had been hell, and all you wanted this summer, was to have a good time, all the time.

Speaking of which, you and the pogues had decided to break in the summer with a little rule-breaking. Kiara wanted to check out one of Gary’s new beach-house developments, which was being built right over a turtle habitat. You all shrugged at the suggestion and agreed.

You threw a can of beer up, JJ catching it instantly, wrinkling his nose when he looked at the label. “This is the shit stuff, Y/N,” he complained.

You rolled your eyes. “Next time I’ll boot-leg champagne for ya, sweetheart,” you drawled.

JJ winked. “That’s more like it.”

Rolling your eyes, you tossed two beers to Pope, which he promptly dropped and bent down to grab, dusting himself off, embarrassed.

You rolled your eyes, watching as he threw one to John B, who was far too drunk to hold onto it, dropping it on the deck of the house, causing it to burst.

Before you could comment on Kie’s overly concerned “Please don’t kill yourself,” to John B, you heard voices yelling “Hey! What are you kids doing up there?!”

“Shit,” You said, looking for your hat.

“I second that shit,” said Pope nervously.

John B swiftly made his way down, grabbing Kie’s hand and leading them out, Pope on their heels.

“Guys, have you seen my-”

Suddenly, you felt something slip over your head, and you smiled up at JJ, who patted the top of your head and pushed you down the stairs and out of the house, all five of you laughing as Gary and his men chased after you.

As John B jumped the fence, he held his hand out to help Kie over, doing the same for you once she made it. You rolled your eyes, slapping his hand away and smoothly making it over yourself.

Pope, as expected, fell over onto the ground as he jumped, JJ shoving him further jokingly. You glared at the boy, and he held his hands up as you helped Pope up, pulling him by the hand into a sprint.

JJ held his hand out of John B’s beat up old van, pulling your laughing body in. Pope closed the door as John B gunned it, but you opened it again, teasing Gary, who was struggling to catch up with you guys.

You tossed him a beer, which he tried to catch, but failed as he stopped running, his hands on his knees.

JJ laughed as he too leaned out of the van, “They don’t pay you enough, bro!” He yelled to Gary.

Your hair blew in the wind, strands of it tickling JJ’s cheeks.

He spat overdramatically, coughing, “Hey, uh, Y/N? You mind not choking me with your hair?”

You simply gave him a playful punch in the gut, taking a seat in between Kie’s knees, who was sitting on the bench behind John B.

Kie took your long, wild hair in her hands, taming it into a french braid. JJ watched with a goofy smile on his face, his conversation with Pope getting too boring.

John B drove down to the docks, where you guys took out the HMS Pogue for the rest of the day. You tried to slap the book out of Kie’s hands, holding a freshly rolled blunt out for her to share with you, but she glared at you, turning back to her reading. You noticed Pope doing the same thing.

JJ grabbed the blunt from your hands, lighting it.

You leaned an elbow on his shoulder, tutting. “Didn’t realize we ran with a bunch of nerds…”

Before Kie and Pope could retort, John B turned around, releasing a pile of freshly caught fish onto the deck of the boat and you cheered. “Nice, John B. We eatin’ good, today.”

“Yeah we are. You’re cooking.”

“I’m what?”

John B smiled smugly, “I did the catching, you do the cooking.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, “Fine then I’ll also do more of the eating.”

“I never agreed to that,” John B argued.

You turned to him, “And that’s because you’re a greedy, cocksucking parasite and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. We’re here to have fun, you guys,” said Kie, her hands out to the two of you.

“Man, I’d really like to go one day without you guys at each other’s goddamn throats,” Pope groaned.

“Forget the fish, there’s a party tonight. First summer party. We gotta be there,” said JJ.

“Hell yeah, I’ll take a touron dick appointment over fish and chips any day,” you put your hands on your hips, looking at the rest of the pogues.

John B rolled his eyes at your blunt words, while Pope and Kie shrugged, agreeing.

Everyone looked to John B and he sighed before saying, “Yeah, I’m down.”

You all cheered, running over and piling on top of him, laughing.

The party was one of the best you had been to yet. While Kiara got on her soapbox about plastic and the boys were looking for girls to flirt with, you were on the hunt for someone who could make your night count.

As you waited in line at the keg to fill up your cup, the guy behind you spoke up. “You look too good to be hanging around the cut.” He flirted.

Your blood boiled as you turned around to get in this guy’s face. You stopped short once you saw what a nice face it was. You weren’t shallow, just… horny. “Am I now?” You smiled slightly.

He nodded, “Oh yes, too good for North Carolina even. The likes of you belong in Hollywood, babe.”

He had neatly trimmed blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Guess you had a type, after all, you thought fleetingly.

“Wow, can I get a name, kind stranger?” You flashed your teeth.

“It’s Asher ma’am, and you are?”

You shrugged, handing your cup to the guy near the keg, who handed it back within a second, full. You put your hand on Asher’s cheek, tapping it as one would a small child, “Oh, sweetheart, you gotta earn that.”

Asher’s eyebrows rose, walking with you down the beach. “How might I go about that?” He asked, suggestively.

You smirked. “It’s not how, honey, it’s where.”

And that was all you needed to let this guy rock your world that night.

You woke up alone the next morning in the hammock outside the Chateau, having crashed there after the party. Groaning, you rolled over until you fell on the ground, struggling to pick yourself up. John B appeared out of nowhere, helping you up.

He handed you some water, which you downed immediately, his hand on your back.

“You alright, kid?” He asked. You nodded, “Yeah, I just need a shower like yesterday,” You moaned.

John B nodded, slapping your shoulder. “Next time don’t drink so much, eh?”

You rolled your eyes, flipping him off as you walked inside. You were heading to the bathroom when you passed John B’s bedroom. You noticed JJ, half-naked and leaning over some blonde on your brother’s bed, his forehead practically touching hers. He noticed you instantly. Some emotion flashed across his face before he glared. “Dude, come on. Get outta here,” he said and you smirked.

“Get some, JJ,” you encouraged, barely dodging the pillow he hurled at you as you shut the door.

As you walked into the bathroom, you couldn’t understand why your stomach lurched when you thought about what JJ was probably doing with that blonde in John B’s bed. You shrugged, it was probably just the alcohol.

That afternoon, you and John B had an appointment with social services, who basically confirmed that you two would be put in foster care after they confirmed that your uncle wasn’t home to look after you two tomorrow.

As John B expected, you didn’t take it well. To your credit, you kept it together in the social worker’s office, but you practically had a meltdown the moment you stepped foot outside.

“How can they just fucking take us away! What did we even do wrong? It’s not our fucking fault Uncle T decided to split! Can’t they see that we’re better off on our goddamn own, John B?!”

John B shrugged. “Not much we can do, Y/N. It’s the law.”

At that, your breaths came even faster, “But it’s not fair, John B! What if-What if they split us up?” You were almost hyperventilating now, pulling your own hair.

John B furrowed his eyebrows, pulling you into a hug. “They’re not going to do that. I’m not going to let that happen, Y/N, you hear me?”

You pushed him away from you, “We’ll see, John B.”

The two of you caught a break. Hurricane Agatha came in the same day DCS was supposed to do your assessment. Your mind immediately went to the sick waves that would be forming. You tugged on John B’s shirt, pulling him away from the TV, “Call DCS and call them to reschedule. And then grab your surfboard.” Your grin stretched across your whole face, your eyes probably wild.

John B looked confused, then concerned. “You can’t be serious. There’s a hurricane?”

“Dead serious.” You crossed your arms. “Like you can resist these waves.”

John B shrugged. “Yeah, I’m in.”

The two of you ran out to the ocean, the dark clouds and harsh winds not fazing you, Pope having bailed on you guys, claiming that these weren’t surfable waves.

As you surfed the waves, constantly getting wiped out due to their sheer size and speed, you couldn’t help the thought: Did a wave like this kill Dad?

John B tried to surf a few waves, but he lacked not only your skill, but also your tenacity. He gave up and simply watched you from his seat on his board.

When you noticed a clearly fancy boat being tossed around in the waves, you pointed it out to John B, who squinted, trying to make it out. He agreed that it was strange. Who would go out in a storm like this?

The next morning, after surveying the damage that Agatha had caused, John B suggested that you guys go fishing, given the likeliness that there would be a whole lot of fish to catch in the marsh today.

Happy to put off cleaning up for a day and high on the fact that DCS wouldn’t be able to catch a ferry down here for at least a couple of days, you agreed.

After practically kidnapping Pope from his dad and picking up Kiara, the five of you drove down to the marsh, Pope steering.

Giggling, you pulled JJ by the hand up to the bow of the HMS Pogue and handed him one of the beers that Kiara had brought. He smirked and held it up along with you as he shouted for Pope to go faster. Pope groaned. “We’ve tried this like six thousand times.”

You shook your head. “I’ve got this. It’s gonna work.”

And it did. Kind of. You and JJ were downing your beers, Kiara complaining that it was getting in your hair. You looked over at JJ from your peripheral and smiled slightly at his silly face, mouth open like a fish as he attempted to get all of the beer that was being hurled out of the bottle.

Until the boat lurched to a sudden stop, catapulting you and JJ into the air. You felt your entire body flip as you fell into the water with a loud crash, water surrounding your ears. You broke the surface immediately, blinking against the sunlight. “Fuuuck,” you groaned.

You felt JJ reach you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “You good?” You nodded at him, resting your hands on his shoulders as you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

John B called out, “You good, Y/N? JJ?”

“I think my heels touched the back of my head,” JJ groaned.

You swam back to the boat, JJ right behind you. “Pope, what did you do?” You asked.

Pope looked as confused as the rest of you guys. “Sandbar. Channel changed.”

As you made it onto the boat, JJ pulled himself up, too, saying, “No shit.”

As your clothes were soaked, you slid your shorts and t-shirt off, leaving you in your teal halter bikini.

You didn’t miss how JJ’s eyes dragged up your figure, his ears turning pink when he reached your eyes and realized you noticed.

Biting your lip to keep from laughing, you turned to Pope, who had his eyes on something in the water.

“Guys...I think there’s a boat down there,” He said.

John B scoffed, “Shut up.”

Kie smiled, “No way.”

But Pope didn’t let up, “No, no, guys. I’m serious. There’s a boat down there.”

You all leaned over the side of the boat and sure enough, there was a large shadow, vague, but obviously in the shape of the hull of a boat.

“Holy shit. He’s right; let’s go!” You said, jumping into the water.

As you swam towards the shadow, you heard Pope muse, “You think there’s a dead body down there?”

You couldn’t stop your subconscious from immediately thinking Dad.

You almost threw up at the thought of stumbling across your own father’s drowned corpse.

But you knew that if that was the case, you would handle it far better than John B. You swam faster, trying to get down there before him.

The five of you made your way to the boat, your eyebrows raising against the water as you saw what kind of boat it was. This was a rich guy’s boat for sure. You recognized it as the boat from yesterday. You all took a peek inside, but couldn’t make out a body. You sighed aloud, bubbles releasing in the water.

As you guys resurfaced, you all laughed.

“That’s a Grady-White,” JJ laughed in shock, “A new one of those is like 500 Gs, easy.”

You guys climbed back into the boat. John B gave you a look. “That’s the boat we saw when we surfed the surge. Maybe it hit the jetty or something.”

Kie looked confused. “You surfed the surge.”

You smirked. “Well… I surfed the surge. John B mostly just watched.” Your brother rolled his eyes but he didn’t correct you.

JJ was getting on the boat when he heard you say that and his entire face lit up. “Yeah, that’s my girl, pogue style,” he said, giving you a high-five.

You grinned back, your stomach involuntarily tumbling at the words my girl.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. Kie noticed, shooting you a look.

You blushed, looking away.

Pope asked, “Wait, wait, do we know who’s boat that is?”

John B opened the hatch on the deck of the boat, looking for the anchor inside. “No. but we’re about to find out.”

JJ shook his head, “Dude, it’s too deep.”

“Only for the weak and feeble, JJ,” John B said.

“Well, I’m not resuscitating you. I’m just making that clear up front.”

You worried that there could still be a body down there. Your father’s body. John B couldn’t see that. Plus, something about the thought of diving felt like a challenge. You took the anchor from John B’s hands. “I’ll go,” You said.

“What the fuck, no Y/N,” said John B.

JJ grabbed your upper arm, “Yeah, not a good idea,” he said.

You shook him off lightly. “I’m doing it,” you insisted.

JJ shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t mind resuscitating you,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes, “You wouldn’t even know how.”

JJ smirked, “Yeah, but I have experience with-”

Pope interjected as you walked to the edge. “Diver down, fool,” he shook his head in slight disappointment. But then again, when was Pope not disappointed in you?”

JJ came over to you. Looking you hard in the eyes, he gave you a questioning look. You steeled your eyes. “I’m ready.”

He smirked, “You better be.” He gave you a shove on your shoulders, pushing you backwards off the bow of the boat and you could hardly hear him say “Diver down,” and John B say, “The fu-” before the water hit you, swallowing you whole as you quickly sunk with the weight of the anchor.

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