#‘if i don���t walk up and down this hallway over and over until it feels right then a series of bombs will go off killing everyone i love’

[venusrising91]

Noise Complaint

Pairing: Wonho x Male reader

Genre: Smut, enemies to lovers/hate to love (no plot just vibezzzz)

Summary: Your new nextdoor neighbor, Wonho (Lee-ho) is a loud, inconsiderate gym rat. He keeps you up all hours of the night with his seedy escapades and you're sick of it. 

Word count: 2,014 (2 pages)

T/W: aggression, physical violence

It was 4am and you had work at 8, yet rest was as far from your reach as the sun would be once it rose. 

Short hours. 

You had short hours to get some much needed sleep. But no matter how hard you’d tried, you hadn’t been able to reach the REM state and it was all thanks to your obnoxious, ridiculously muscular neighbor, Lee-ho. 

    For the third time this week, giggling voices and blaring music, followed by high-pitched moans had kept you wide awake. Usually, after one or two rounds with whatever girl he’d picked up scouring city night clubs, the mewls and slaps and yes daddys would subside, and you could finally drift. But tonight, he seemed to have endless energy. You heard his date come four times. Back to back.

    It was almost 6:30 by the time they wore themselves out.

    You’d barely slept. At the office, you struggled to keep your eyes open, staring through slits at the charts on your computer. The project manager noticed you nodding and called you into her office after the meeting. As head graphic designer, you were expected to oversee and execute this assignment—because securing this client would ensure you a raise next quarter, but the arrival of your new neighbor had thrown a wrench in your performance.

    She threatened to take you off the project and her disappointment was all you could think about on your commute back home.

    In the apartment lobby, you pressed the button on the elevator console so hard it nearly jammed.

    “Sup bruh.” You whipped your head around and there was Lee-ho, all 6 feet of him, donned in gym wear and sipping on some colorful drink. You clenched your teeth.

“Hey,” you mumbled back with listless regard.

    The elevator doors opened and Lee-ho walked gingerly ahead of you. Before he could step inside however, his cell slipped from his pocket. As he bent you couldn’t help but notice his butt: firm, round, muscled. You tore your eyes away and carded your hair. Inside, the music was soft and unobtrusive. The exact opposite of Lee-ho.

“How you feeling?” he asked, plunging his hands into his pockets.

“Tired.”

He snorted. “Oh yeah, me too.”

    “I’m sure you are.” You glared at him, slightly envious of the angle of his jaw, of how much sharper it was than yours. And envious also of the broad span of his chest, his neat features, his lips, his hair. He was by all accounts, an objectively better looking man than you and this only added to your irritation.

    “What d’you mean by that?” asked Lee-ho, quirking his brow. He must have sensed your frustration because now he was folding his arms, closing up. You didn’t care.

    “You know the walls that separate us are paper thin, right?”

    “Yeah, and?”

    The doors slid open on your floor. “I can hear everything. All the time.” You stepped out before him, stalking down the hallway.

    “My bad, dude. I’ll keep it down,” he shouted after you. There was a smug air about his tone and you ignored him as you shoved your key into the lock. It was only 7pm but you were exhausted. After a quick dinner of leftover pasta, and an even quicker shower, you went to bed, desperate to get back the hours you’d lost. You drifted in minutes, sleeping soundly, until loud music and moans yanked you from your dreams at 2am.

    You leapt from the bed, pulling on a robe, not bothering to tie it. It took less than two minutes for you to reach Lee-ho’s door. You pounded on it furiously, on and on, until he swung it open. For a moment, each of you stood silently observing one another. He was fully nude, sweating and cupping his genitals as his eyes swept over you. They lingered on your chest, you noted, then trailed up to meet your gaze. Despite your robe, you felt suddenly bare, and exposed. Quickly you tied it, covering yourself from him.

    “What the fuck, dude?” said Lee-ho.

    “Keep it down.”

    “Yeah and what if I don’t?”

    “I’ll write a formal complaint. You're violating code of conduct with this shit. Some of us have actual jobs, you know?”

“I have a job.”

“Gym bro influencer and fuckboy does not an occupation make.” This was rude, and uncalled for. But you were sleep deprived. Lee-ho's shoulders slumped down a measure—he appeared somewhat diminished in the face of the insult and you almost felt bad for him. Your eyes fell on his abs however, and then, without meaning to, dipped even lower, catching a glimpse of what was too large to be completely covered by his palm. Even his cock was better than yours—he didn’t need your pity. Without waiting for a retort, you turned and stormed down the hall.

Back in your bedroom, the beginnings of an erection tugged at the tender flesh between your legs. And by the time you lay back in bed, you were rock-hard, and aching.

    In the morning you shaved and contemplated calling out, but you really couldn’t afford to. At work, you tried to concentrate but all you could think of was Lee-ho, of his throbbing head, peeking up from behind his hand in the middle of the doorway. You didn’t like men. At least you thought you didn’t. You’d had a few girlfriends in the past and once or twice thought about experimenting with a guy back in college but no one ever drew you in. No one ever attracted you the way—

    Enough, you weren’t doing this. What were you thinking? You weren’t into dudes and especially not ones you despised as much as Lee-ho. He probably never had to work for anything a day in his life. Just had to show up and collect everyone's praise and adulation. 

Prick.

    Back at the apartment, you took the stairs to avoid crossing paths with him. Thankfully it was Friday, and you could catch up on your shows without feeling guilty for missing the sleep that was so hard to come by lately. 

After dinner and a shower, you binged a season of a new show on Netflix, and dozed off halfway through. But a short while later, a sharp knock on the door jolted you awake.

    You shuffled to it, half-dazed. Waiting on the other side was Lee-ho, glaring a hole through your forehead.

    “You know, you’re a real asshole?” he declared. 

    “Could say the same about you.”

    “What you said the other night—you don’t talk to people like that. I want an apology.”

    You scoffed and made to shut the door. But he stopped it, forcing it open. “Get off the door and fuck off,” you clipped.

    “Or what?”

    Impulse and anger drove you to shove him, which was stupid. His arms alone were twice the size of yours. He shoved you back and you stumbled into your apartment. Lee-ho stepped over the threshold, letting the door slam behind him. Then his hands were on you again, crashing into your chest. It knocked the air from your lungs. Enraged, you swung and missed. He caught it and wrapped his hand around your throat, pinning you against a wall. His face was inches from yours as he strangled you, but slowly, his grip loosened. Each of you were panting. He smelled expensive, like Tom Ford—the scent filled you, clouded your head and senses. His breath on you was warm, his lips resting short inches from yours. He brought them even closer, until the tips of your noses were grazing.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

    “I—I’m not—I’m straight but…your…” he trailed off, hand sliding across your chest.

    “You wanna fuck me, that it?” Neither of you said a word, only stood there, gazing, panting. Then your hand traveled down, until it landed on his crotch. You palmed his cock, and found it was already hard for you. After the other night, you couldn’t get it out of your mind. Once it was in your mouth, he made the most helpless sounds, cupping your head and guiding you as you swallowed it again and again.

    “Fuck, your throat feels s-so good,” mewled Lee-ho. You fought against your gag reflex, getting harder each time he shoved it in, down to the hilt. Your eyes watered. You never thought the taste of cock could turn you on this much. Women were lovely and all but this was something else entirely. It was like satisfying some primal urge you never knew existed until now. You squeezed his balls gently, sucking him all the while. He came in minutes and stood over you shivering as the orgasm rippled through him.

    You rose, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Lee-ho dropped to his knees, pulling down your boxers. He took you in his mouth and it felt like the world stopped spinning. His tongue swirled around the tip, one hand cradling your heavy balls, the other gripping your ass, a finger seeking the rosebud. He tried to slip it in but you panicked, bucking away like a spooked horse.

    “I thought you said you were straight?” you whispered.

    He popped your cock from his warm mouth. You twitched as he smirked up at you. “Chicks like it sometimes. I figured you might wanna give it a try. Feels tight though, got any lube?”

    You hesitated, wondering what it would be like to have his finger circling inside you. There was nothing but heat and silence as you stared down at him. “In the bedroom,” you said, breathlessly.

    As you lay on your back watching his chiseled body shift in the dim light, he slathered the lube you kept in your bedside drawer onto his middle finger. Then he drizzled some over your erection, spreading it with long strokes.

    “Fuuuuuck,” you whined, arching at the pleasure, at the way he gripped you.

“You like that?” With this, he slid a finger inside you, taking it slow. The pressure had you arching even more. Once he eased you past the initial pain, all you could do was moan and claw and look down at your rock-hard cock as he pumped you in two places, at different paces. In the front he squeezed tight, giving you fast, steady strokes, but in that pulsing spot between your cheeks he worked you soft and deep, taking his time as his finger explored your depths. The pressure was glorious, and you felt your entrance contracting around him. “You’re dripping for me,” he cooed. You looked down at yourself as he gripped the base, a long rope dangling from the tip onto your stomach. He licked it, dragging the pad of his tongue along your abs, then swallowed you whole. After a few hard sucks he pulled back, finger still buried in you, coaxing out spasms you couldn't control. Fuck he was so attractive, you never thought a man could make you feel this good.

    The next moment, you were shooting ropes in the air, convulsing under him and fisting the sheets as he drained you. He let you pant there, chest heaving, before taking your length back into his mouth. He sucked and finger-fucked you through your sensitivity, ignoring your loud moans and cries. You asked him to stop but you didn’t mean it. You wanted more and he gave it to you. All night. After your third orgasm you could barely stay conscious.

Lee-ho crept beside you, watching as you shivered your way through the leavings of your latest high. 

    “I’m s-sorry,” you muttered between waves of it, “about the other day. You’re right, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.”

    He chuckled. “It’s fine. I’ll be quiet from now on, promise.”

    You couldn’t quite keep your eyes open, and drifted then, still tingling from what he'd done to you. Your rest went uninterrupted for the first time in weeks. But when you woke, Lee-ho was gone.

    From then on, the noise had stopped, just like he'd promised. But a few times a week, just before bed, there came a knock at your door, and a smirking, half-naked Lee-ho waiting on the other side of it.

[thechaoticcheese]

One shot based off of "My Girl(or Boy depends on the version)" By Elvie Shane

TW: Child neglect and abandonment, Swearing

Anything for my Kid - One Shot

Ghost and Soap were walking down the barracks hallway when they suddenly see a 6 year old boy looking very unhappy. He looked like he was about to cry just milling about the hall, checking every door he came in contact with. He mainly just tried to push them open, not daring to touch the door handles.

"Tha's somethin' ya don' see everyday." Soap mumbled to Ghost before the kid made eye contact with the masked soldier. Their blue eyes just stared up at him, not in fear or anxiety. They just stared.

"Buddy! There you are! What did I tell ya about running off?" A male soldier came jogging up. His raven hair was dark, a couple of freckles dotted his face as his light blue eyes fell on the child in the hallway. Ghost knew this man. He had trained him when he first arrived in Task Force 141, dawning the call sign 'Kid'. At the time, the Brit didn't understand it, until now. He wasn't the kid, he had a kid.

The said kid turned around to see his dad and his face lit up, running towards Kid. The soldier scooped him up in a big hug, before putting the child onto his shoulders, chuckling softly as he rested his hands on his child's upper legs to keep him still. His eyes suddenly looking over at Ghost and Soap

"Oh! Hey guys." Kid said with a friendly smile and a wave. "Sorry if Lucas caused ya any trouble just... Looking for his mom." The male seemed hesitant to say the truth to Ghost and Soap.

"How 'bout we help ya find her?" Soap offered with a toothy grin.

"Oh um, yeah. That'd actually help a lot." Kid said with a surprised look, but it seemed also grateful.

...

It was a few hours later when they were in Kid's room, Lucas playing with a few toys from his pack, army men and planes. He was making guns shooting and flying noises, imitating battles.

Kid watched him lovingly, the trio having found out that his ex-wife dumped the kid on him. She claimed to be there for a visit, left Lucas in the hall that connected to the Visitor's Room when no one was looking. Lucas then had wandered about the base, trying to find his mom or dad.

The father was able to get ahold of his parents. They agreed take Lucas, but it'd be a day of travel, so Kid almost begged Price to let his kid stay on base, him having no off time saved up and them needing the hands on base just in case something happened. Price allowed it, but Kid needed to keep eyes on the kid, Soap offered himself and Ghost up to help and Kid took him up on that offer.

The three hadn't spoken for a while, just watching Lucas play. "You regret 'avin' him?" Ghost asked quietly, his eyes going over to Kid.

"Ghost!" Soap scolded the Brit.

"No, no. Don't worry Soap. I do wish you asked out of earshot. He's too young to be hearing this kind of talk." Kid said calmly, as if it was a question he's heard thousands of times. "But to answer your question Ghost, no. I don't and I never will." His voice got quieter in hopes that only the two men would hear, "I do regret who his mother is and that he wasn't planned." Kid admitted, his attention soon going to Lucas who came over and reached up to sit on his dad's lap. Kid obliged happily, sitting his kid on his leg.

Soap's eyes were wide as he glanced at Ghost's blank face. "But we don't talk about people like that." He chuckled softly looking at Lucas. "Even if we don't like them."

Kid was doing his best to parent, even at a time like this. The fury that he must be hiding was immense, but to be his age and still father so well, Ghost might've felt a little jealous, envious, but he pushed that feeling down.

"So what are his thoughts on his mom?" The Brit's gruff voice asked.

"She's a bitch." Lucas said looking over at Ghost with the same stare that had greeted him in the hallway.

"Lucas!" Kid scolded, "We do not use that kind of language!"

"She calls you it all the time." He argued looking up his dad with a tilt of his head.

Soap started to laugh, a big laugh that made Lucas turn his head and tilt it slightly to the side. He had no idea what he just said.

"I don't care what Mommy says, she uses too many words that can be hurtful to others. Even behind their back. Don't say that about anyone again, okay?"

"Oh-kay...." Lucas mumbled as he lowered his head guiltily. Kid kissed his kid on his forehead. "Thank you Buddy. How about we go find something to eat in the mess hall, hm? I bet they have a good dinner tonight." Kid's voice was soft and sooth. "Chicken nuggets?" Lucas's eyes looked up hopefully. "Probably not... But I be Nana and Papa will give you some when you go home tomorrow." Kid said with a smile as he effortlessly got up and left Soap and Ghost in his room to discuss things.

~~~~~~~

A/N: Yeah that ending was half baked at most. I had this idea but after writing it I just kinda gave up lmao. Anyways, enjoy a blip of a character who will more than likely never see the light of day again lmao

[the-fiction-witch]

Let The World The Burn Chapter One - Five

Nine years, after the brutal murder of Mayor Don Mitchell Jr at the hands of the riddler, his widow and son are supported by Bruce Wayne for the foreseeable future. But Unbenounced to Mrs Julliet Mitchell her son Luka Mitchell is taken under the wing of Bruce Wayne far more directly, funding his education and training the now nineteen-year-old Luka for yet undisclosed purposes. After all these years Luka has formed a cold detachment from the uncaring world around him. That is until he finds himself growing close to a new classmate who goes by Rose Asher, the two share all their secrets with one another as they fall hard and fast into a whirlwind romance that may have more layers than it first appeared.

Chapter One - The Gotham Rain

Luka Mitchel sat up in his room, he watched the rain as it fell against his window, illuminated only by the orange street light outside. It always rained in Gotham these days, so much so that it seemed comical. More than once Luka wondered how the whole river hadn't come up to claim them yet. He sat on his bed, legs crossed, elbow rested on his knee, and his chin sat on his knuckles. His washed-out jeans felt stiff to sit in and often caused him to shift, and his blue long-sleeve t-shirt fell loose around him to hide his many bandages. He kept it all hidden away, he felt he had to. The house didn't feel like home, it never had and he had no intention to share his secrets within it.

Every so often thunder would crack or rumble, a flash of bright white lightning across the sky, but he rather liked it, the sound brought Luka comfort compared to the endless silence without it.

He perked up a little as his bedroom door opened with a sharp whine, light flooded in from the hallway, shadowed only by the figure of his mother Julliet Mitchel. Her heels clacked on the wooden floor, her tight stockings adding a small swish to her walk as her legs rubbed together with each step, Her tight silver dress left little to the imagination, her hair done and make-up pristine.

But all of it made Luka feel sick to his stomach, unwilling to even give his mother a second glance.

"Luka darling? What are you up to?" she greeted with a cheerful and hopeful smile,

"I was just watching the rain..." he replied, as he refused to move his gaze from his window,

She smiled softly and closed the gap between them, trying to take a seat on his bed but he made no space for her to do so, so she abandoned the attempt. She brought a hand up and stroked across his face but as always he flinched away.

His flinch caused Julliet's smile to drop and she bit back a sigh, "Well, I'm going out tonight. With Steven."

Luka nodded slightly and tried to bite back his rage,

Steven was the newest in a long line of lovers his mother found comfort in. Even if Steven was closer to Luka's age then to Julliet's. But it always made him sick, to think his mother was out with these men. But he knew he couldn't say anything about it.

"I see... I assume you'll be gone all night?" He asked, but he already knew the answer,

"Yes, most likely." She nodded, "I've left some cash on the counter, why not get yourself a pizza and have some friends over?" she suggested hopeful to perhaps coax him from his room,

But Luka didn't have friends.

He almost wanted to snap at her but held his tongue and forced a small smile. "Okay... have fun."

"Alright, have a fun night, darling." She cooed, she pressed a kiss to his cheek before she headed out of his room and left the door open a crack.

He tensed as his mother kissed his cheek, but he knew he'd upset her if he fully moved away. He waited until he heard her leave, once he heard the door lock, the car left with her date. Luka sat and just listened to the rain for several more minutes as he tried to return his mind to the calmness he had before.

After a while, he forced himself out of the bed. Luka slipped on his black boots and walked down the stairwell. He pocketed the cash on the kitchen counter, grabbed his coat from the hook and tossed it on. He took his keys and locked the door behind him and made his way out into the rain.

Chapter Two - LIAR

He walked silently through the rain and took cover under trees and overhangs as much as possible though he ended up still soaked. He walked the damp sidewalk, for a while before he met the immense black gates of Gotham Cemetery. He snuck inside without much noise and headed to the usual place.

Luka was completely drenched by this point, but didn't care. He just stood in silence as another crack of thunder came through. He looked at the ground and almost tried to distract himself as the greystone stared back at him.

The stone read 'Don Mitchell Jr. Husband, Father and Honourable Mayor of Gotham City.'

But the stone also had bright green graffiti over it reading, 'LIAR'. It had appeared some weeks ago, but Luka hadn't the mind to clean it off. After all he'd learnt about his father these years since his death, it felt accurate.

Luka began as usual to talk to his father. He told his father about all that happened since his last visit. About his mother, about school, about bullies, about all the things he felt he needed to know. But, He still kept quiet about one aspect of his life. Even the dead weren't privy to such a secret.

He finished up and said his usual goodbyes before he turned on his heels and headed for the gates. But a sound caught his attention and he froze up.

The snap of a twig.

He remained still, silent and listened through the rain to hear the footsteps as they grew louder and louder.

Without even a second thought Luka slipped his hand into his coat pocket, and his fingers found a home around the blade he had stolen. His heart raced at the thought of truly using it. He flipped around prepared to attack, but he jumped.

It was a girl.

Chapter Three - Rose Or Rosie Too

She stood in the rain, she wore a black coat that hemmed around her knees, with a trail of small red buttons, her hands in her pockets, with a little red Breton hat that hid her hair.

Luka practically jumped out of his skin and quickly released his grip on the blade. "You… You almost gave me a heart attack," He gasped,

"Right place for one." She joked,

Luka couldn't help but chuckle slightly at her morbid joke as he slowly came closer to her. "Hi,"

"Hi," she greeted back,

"So… are you visiting a grave or…?" he asked a little unsure how to make conversation,

"Not visiting. It's just a shortcut home."

"Shortcut? Through a cemetery? at night?" He asked as he raised an eyebrow.

"I don't find the place that spooky." She shrugged, "far more terrifying things down a back alley in Gotham than in a graveyard."

"Fair enough…" He chuckled. He knew some of the alleys in Gotham you were guaranteed to run into some very unsavory characters and the worst you'd find in a graveyard is a raccoon. "So, I assume this is not your first time taking this shortcut?"

She shook her head, "No, I've taken it almost every day."

He smiled a bit at that. "Then how come I've never seen you before tonight?"

"We only just moved here."

"Oh, I see…" he chuckled slightly and gestured around them both, "I'm assuming this isn't the only possible way to get to where you're going, but… Maps?"

"Maps." She agreed, "and I like it here."

Luka narrowed his eyes, "What's there to like about a cemetery? It's full of dead people."

"It's peaceful. Quiet."

"Yeah… I suppose that's true,"

She nodded softly, "What about you?"

"I come here for a bit of peace and quiet as well… but I come for a specific reason too," He said as he gestured to the gravestone,

"Sorry-"

"Don't worry, it's fine," He said, "Actually… What's your name? I don't think I ever asked."

"Rose. Or well Rosie too."

He smiled as he heard her name. "I like that. I'm Luka."

"Very cute." She laughed, "The name… Not you- well… you too."

Luka couldn't help but laugh and blush a bit, "No need to correct yourself… unless of course, you don't mind me pointing out you're pretty cute too."

She laughed, "Thank you,"

He smiled and chuckled, his own laughter somewhat hid his small blush, "You're welcome,"

"Where do you go? For classes?"

"Oh, I go to Gotham Prep…" He answered,

"I'll be starting there on Monday," she smiled, "Maybe you could show me around."

"I… I think I could do that, yeah." He said with a nod.

"You don't mind the new girl hanging around and having lunch with you?"

"No, I wouldn't mind that at all." He said immediately, almost a bit too quickly. he did hope he didn't sound too desperate at the idea of someone wanting to actually hang around him,

"Great." She smiled, "uhh here." She dug around her pocket, pulled out a marker, and then offered him her hand,

Luka raised an eyebrow but slowly slid his hand into her own, he felt her soft skin brush against his own callus fingers.

She smiled and squeezed his hand before she moved closer and wrote her number across his hand with a little heart. She capped her Sharpie and smiled up at him before she gave his cheek a small peck. "Text me later, promise?" She smiled as she began to walk away,

He was left a bit in shock as she suddenly kissed his cheek. He was too stunned to really think straight, "Wait- yes, I promise!" He called out as she walked away and made sure she could hear him.

Rose soon disappeared into the rain and darkness of the night,

Luka's heart still raced a bit from the kiss left on his cheek. It was the first time he had ever had a girl kiss him, even on the cheek. He stood there for a moment as he watched where she had vanished into the night before he eventually looked at his hand, he smiled at where she had left her number. The little heart she put next to it only made his smile grow. He quickly put his hand in his pocket to keep it dry and began his walk home.

Chapter Four - You Like That Mat Today?

Luka stood resolutely in the heart of the gym, the familiar atmosphere thick with the scent of metal. He focused his mind, set aside any distractions, and allowed himself to enter a meditative state. The mat beneath him felt cool against his bare feet, as his body moved instinctively in a steady, rhythmic pattern.

With each bound, he could hear the sharp whistle of air rushing past him, the rope sliced through the space between his agile feet and the mat. His hands formed perfect, fluid circles as they expertly coordinated with the movement of the rope, gradually he picked up speed until it whipped around him like a blur. Breaths escaped from his lungs in rapid, short puffs, as beads of sweat streamed down his forehead, and traced paths down his chest and arms.

Luka was dressed in his signature workout attire. A pair of form-fitting red leggings that clung to his legs and a sleek black muscle tee with the harness of weights strapped securely around his shoulders and waist. His arms were graced with bandages and plasters to conceal his bruises from prior sessions. His hands wrapped up with red tape to keep his grip.

The gym, nestled deep within Wayne Manor, bathed in dim light, felt like his personal sanctuary on Saturdays. He had already pushed himself through a varied regimen, he had already logged hours on the treadmill, the rhythmic pull of the rowing machine, the solid crunches on the sit-up bench, and the fierce energy of the battle ropes. Each element of his routine was meticulously crafted to hone his strength and endurance, to prepare him for whatever challenges lay ahead.

"Ten more, then climb." Alfred barked from his seat on the sit-up bench as he took a sip from his water. The older man had been monitoring and supporting Luka all day, and made sure to push him a little more every week, "Yes?"

"Yes Sir," Luka spoke up,

"Count ten then climb."

"I've already done -" Luka gasped,

"Yeah well, should have answered me the first time."

"Yes sir..." he sighed, "One. Two. Three. Four.. Five.. Six... Seven... Eight... Nine... Ten."

Luka felt a rush of adrenaline surge through him as he dropped the rope, the word escaped his lips with an urgency that sent him into motion. Without a moment's hesitation, he discarded the rope onto the mat beneath him, its fibres absorbed the sudden thud. He took a deep, sharp inhale, to fill his lungs with air before he sprinted across the mat, his feet pounded against the surface. With a determined leap, he surged upward and grasped the thick, braided climbing rope that hung overhead. His fingers dug into the coarse fibres as he ascended. He pulled himself higher, and let out a few grunts as he clawed his way toward the top.

"Good, good." Alfred nodded,

The gym door creaked open with an unsettled whine and echoed slightly. Bruce strode in, his posture both determined and slightly weary, clad in his familiar black suit pants that hugged his legs and a crisp white shirt. His usual polished appearance was marred only by the stick he leaned on, an unintended souvenir from a recent skirmish related to his nightly escapades as Batman.

"Afternoon, Master Wayne," Alfred nodded to him, as he got to his feet to fetch a seat which Bruce refused.

"Luka!" Bruce called out,

"Yeah?" Luka smiled as he reached the top of the rope, he hitched his body over the metal rails and hung his body upside down to see him,

"Don't be cocky." Bruce snapped, "Down. Now. And climb, don't just jump."

Luka rolled his eyes and climbed down the rope. Once his feet hit the floor once more, Luka grabbed a towel to pull the sweat from his skin.

"How's he done today?" Bruce asked,

"Alright," Alfred shrugged, "Clocked a little lower than last week,"

"You put his weights up yet?"

"No, I figured we'd get him back up before we add more."

"Alright," Bruce nodded grimly,

"I'm right here, you know?" Luka chuckled,

"I'm aware." Bruce snapped, "You can start coming in on Sundays too then till your numbers get back up,"

Luka rolled his eyes and groaned, but knew he couldn't argue,

Bruce simply glanced at the mat,

Alfred nodded and headed to the mat,

Luka sighed and tossed the towel over the weight rack, He rolled his shoulders and stretched out.

Alfred did the same and the two settled into position.

"Don't go easy on him." Bruce chuckled,

"Hey!" Luka protested,

But Alfred took that moment to attack, almost getting Luka down, But the younger boy brought his attention back to focus. The mat soon became an intricate dance of punches and blocks, swings and ducts, steps and slashes. Many of these manoeuvres ended as always, with Luka on his ass.

"You like that mat today?" Alfred laughed after he once again knocked Luka on his ass,

He groaned with his back flat on the mat, "Yeah... well, all things considered. It's pretty cosy."

"Sure it is."

"Get up Luka," Bruce told him,

"I can't... I'm dead." Luka joked,

"And if this had been a real fight you would be, get up." Bruce ordered, "Nothing can be accomplished on the floor."

Luka smirked and used his feet to wrap around Alfred and flipped them over, "Nothing?" he raised his eyebrow,

"Enough." Bruce snapped,

Luka let Alfred go and helped pull him to his feet,

"Shower, then meet me in the study" Bruce snapped before he made his way out of the gym,

Luka sighed, gave himself another wipe-down and a gulp or two of water. "Am I in trouble?" He asked Alfred,

Alfred simply shrugged but gave Luka a look. A Look Luka knew well, he was in trouble but Alfred of course won't tell him why.

"Ffiiiinnnneee..." Luka groaned before he made his way to the shower.  

Chapter Five - The Knife

After a long and hot shower, Luka made his way slowly through Wayne Manor, his black duffle tossed over his shoulder. He held his breath as he reached the door to Bruce's study, and brought his hand up to the wood to knock.

"Come in Luka." Bruce snapped from within before Luka's hand even met the door,

Luka bit his tongue and went inside,

The walls within, tall and imposing with thick wood lined with shelves full of books and trinkets. A large arched window that looked out to the city beyond, a few red leather chairs and of course Bruce's large desk. Where Bruce sat in his chair, his elbows on the desk, and his chin rested on his hands.

Luka walked onto the rug and met Bruce's eyes, silently.

"How is school?" Bruce asked,

Luka didn't reply,

"Your studies?"

Luka didn't reply,

"Your mother?"

Luka did not answer again,

Bruce sighed and met Luka's eyes, "Have I somehow offended you, Luka?" He asked his tone sharp,

"No," Luka answered, "I simply find it pointless to answer,"

"Why?"

"You're the greatest detective in the world," Luka sighed, "You know where I go, what I do, who I see, the same for my school and my mother... I can't hide anything from you."

"Doesn't mean I do not wish to hear it from your own lips,"

"School is fine. Work is fine. Mom is fine." Luka answered dismissively,

"Good." Bruce nodded, "Your mother she-"

"Yes." Luka snapped, "The new boy is... Steven something,"

"Young?" Bruce chuckled,

"Twenty-five,"

"Have you given any more thought to your plans after you graduate?" Bruce quickly changed the subject,

"No," Luka lied,

"I have made my offer more than once,"

"I know, you have done enough for me,"

"And still I will do more... if you only would accept my help,"

"You have helped me, more than I have deserved and more than I can ever repay Mr Wayne." Luka explained, "I... I would not ask for anything more."

"Very well." Bruce nodded, "But the offer stands,"

"Thank you,"

"We will continue your training, but allow time to focus on your studies. Training can wait. I'd rather get you through the classes first." Bruce explained, "We'll go from there."

"Yes sir." Luka nodded, he turned to leave the study but before he took his third step,

"Luka," Bruce spoke up,

"Yes?" Luka didn't turn,

"Did you think you'd get away with it?"

Luka's blood ran cold and a shiver ran up his spine, "I- I don't know what you're talking about sir." But his voice gave him away,

"Luka, I'm the greatest detective in the world." Bruce threw Luka's own words back to him, "You can't hide anything from me."

"I suppose not." Luka sighed,

"Look at me, Luka."

Luka slowly turned but found himself too guilty to meet Bruce in the eye,

"Why?" Bruce simply asked,

Luka shrugged like a caught child,

"Why Luka?" Bruce's voice raised,

"It looked cool." Luka lied as his eyes trailed the corners of the rug,

"Don't lie to me,"

Luka bit his tongue a moment, he knew he was caught, he knew there was no way out of this. So there was no reason to hold back. "I feel safe with it," he muttered,

"What?"

"I feel safer with it." Luka said, "I felt strong, safe, secure when I carried it with me. More in control."

"True strength-"

"True strength, doesn't need a weapon I know." Luka snapped back, "But after nine years of telling me about the attackers, murderers and sick lunatics that walk Gotham's streets at night. Are you surprised I feel the need to walk around armed?"

Bruce's face relaxed slightly, as he pondered Luka's words. "If you don't feel safe in the house-"

"The house is fine. The school is fine... It just makes me feel better," Luka answered, "I've never used it. Doubt I ever will. But I have it, just in case."

"I see." Bruce nodded, "Alright,"

Luka nodded and turned to leave once more, he pushed open the heavy wooden door but was once again stopped.

"Luka. The Knife," Bruce ordered,

Luka let out a long sigh before he turned. He pulled his jacket from his duffle bag and ripped the knife and its holster from his inside pocket.

Bruce merely tapped his desk with his index and middle finger,

So Luka begrudgingly brought it over and set the knife down beside his fingers, but as he was about to pull his hand back Bruce grabbed his wrist.

"If you want something, you ask for it." Bruce told him, "You don't steal it."

Luka nodded,

"Yes?"

"Yes, Mr Wayne."

Bruce nodded and glanced to the door as he released Luka's hand,

Luka turned and stormed out without a word, his face screwed up with rage. He marched down the stairs and left the manor. He refused the usual ride home and tossed his jacket on and hood up, to start on the walk home in the rain. 

Chapter Six - Ten

[inkedinthedas]

Chapter 1 of Stars in Thedas

                “Ugh….” I groaned, the ground was cold, and hard. Almost like… Metal? It was silent, not a single sound to be heard. I opened my eyes to see that wherever I was, it was dark. Fear. Fear struck me, hard. Where am I? What happened? Who… am I?

                Thoughts ran through my head, faster than I could comprehend. I didn’t know who I even was?! I searched for something, it was so dark though, I couldn’t even make out silhouettes. All I could see was a light emitting from underneath a doorway. Then there must be a way out! I frantically searched for a handle, reaching for what I presumed was a door. Finally, gripping the handle, I pulled the door open only to be met with a knife to my throat.

                “Who the FUCK are you?!” A man with dark, almost onyx hair held a knife to my throat. He had very clear intentions if I didn’t answer in a timely manner. I gulped, shaking my head in confusion, “Don’t give me that shit. Who are you? How long have you been on our ship?” I stood there in fear. I couldn’t move, much less get a word out.

                Finally, I pushed myself to speak, “P-Please…. I don’ t know where I am or how I got here. I don’t know my name….” I stared the man in his eyes, his eyes were a very ocean blue. But they were cold. Please… Please believe me… He grabbed me by the arm roughly.

                “Fine-“He released his grip suddenly. His hand was covered in blood. MY blood. I panicked, looking at my arm where he grabbed me. Not only was my arm bloody, but it was everywhere! Was this my blood? Or someone else’s? I felt sick, my stomach churning. I started to lose my balance, but he grabbed me again, “You’re going to our medic, Ryona. I can’t let you bleed all over the place and mess up the ship.” I sighed in relief, at least I’ll be away from him.

                He walked me down a long hallway, still holding his knife out towards me. The walls were… interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this, these walls were unique. At least, I think they are. It was cold, maybe it was from loss of blood, but I don’t think I belong here. Finally, we reached a door, he scanned what looked like a piece of metal and the door slid open. That’s… new.  He hurried me through the doorway and handed me over to a very pretty, lightly blue skinned woman. Her silver hair and golden eyes caught my attention. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen someone like her.

                She had a soft expression, until she seen me. She looked at the man holding me, “Damon, who is this? I’ve never seen her before, and the captain never mentioned a new crewmate.” He shook his head, pushing me towards her.

                “She was hiding out in our storage room. Won’t tell me her name or how long she’s been there, but she’s drenched in blood. I figured you could look her over before I give her over to him.” Who is him? Is it this captain the blue lady mentioned? I stayed quiet, really, I couldn’t help it. My throat was so dry that speaking would be almost impossible truly.

                Suddenly, she touched my hand, her hand was warm and soft. I didn’t feel unsafe. She smiled softly at me, “What is your name?” I shook my head; I really had no idea. She frowned in response, “Come, sit on the bed and I’ll check over you for any wounds.” I obliged, taking a seat on a plush-like bed. I’ve never seen anything like this. It was so clean, white and smooth. The whole room smelled lovely, almost like flowers in a sense. But different. It soothed me, I didn’t feel in danger here.

                She walked back over to me, “My name is Ryona, I’m sure Damon already informed you though. Do you feel any pain anywhere?” I shook my head.

                “No. Nothing hur-“I coughed when speaking, my throat felt like sand was gliding down it. She turned from me, walking over to her counter. She poured me a small cup of water and handed it back to me. I quickly gulped it down and smiled at her as a ‘Thank you’. She smiled back.

                “How did you end up in our storage? You… don’t look like you’re from any planet we’ve recently been to.” I tiled my head, then looked down at my clothing. Oh. I’m wearing robes of some type. They were very torn, it’s hard to see if they resembled anything. She smiled at me softly, “I’ll get you a new set of clothing. You need it.” She chuckled a little. She started removing my clothing, revealing several gashes along my arm, and side.

                “I didn’t feel these.” I said while wincing as she applied medicine to them. She was gentle about it, making sure she didn’t cause any more unnecessary pain. She patched up my wounds, then gave me medication she said would ease any leftover pain. I felt a lot better. She then pulled a chair to sit in front of me and looked up at me.

                “Let’s see if we can get a name going somewhere. Do you know where you’re from?” I shook my head, she nodded in response, “We’ll get there. Try and think hard. See if there’s a name somewhere in there.” I closed my eyes, searching for something, anything. There! It’s on the tip of my tongue, sitting for a moment, thinking a little longer. A word came off my tongue.

                “My name is Yvette Amell.” Ryona’s eyes brightened, and she smiled at me. She nodded and put her hands together. Finally, a little bit of something.

“There we go! Yvette, that’s a very pretty name.”  She stood up, signaling me to follow her, “Let’s go talk to the captain. He won’t be happy to know that someone might’ve been camping out on our ship, but Ayame won’t let him be too harsh on you.” I got up slowly, feeling sick again, but followed her down the hallway once again. Crossing what looked like a bridge, we came to a big metal door. She scanned another piece of metal like the last guy had and the door slid open. There was what I presumed to be, the captain. Very tall, blonde with deep blue eyes. He turned to look at me, his eyes piercing through my soul. I gulped.

“Who the hell are you?” I froze, unable to speak. Damon approached me, grinning.

“This is the stowaway I told you I found in the storage.” He turned to face the captain. The captain approached me, looking down at me with a stern look. He frowned, almost seeming like he wanted to growl before looking at Ryona. She turned to look at the floor before looking at me. She smiled, trying to let me know it was okay. But it wasn’t okay.

“I’m not fond of people hitching rides for nothing. What is your name?” The captain spoke with what felt like fire in his voice.

“My name is… Yvette.” I mumbled the last bit a little, but he still heard me. I kept eye contact, looking away would mean certain death, I’m sure.

“Well, ‘Yvette’. I’m Captain Calderon Lynch. I run this ship, and I don’t like stowaways.” He looked me up and down, stopping at the bandages that had been freshly put on me, “You were hurt? Is that why you hid here? To get away from whatever danger you were dealing with? You could’ve caused us to be followed!” I flinched at him, raising his voice.

“No… I don’t know how I ended up there… I just woke up.” I tried to explain myself, but he squinted at me. Obviously not believing a damn word that came out of my mouth. I couldn’t help but look past him though, the…. Stars? They’re everywhere! Oh no… the bile... I vomited all over the captain’s shoes. I quickly looked at him, “I-I-I’m so sorry! I don’t kno- “

“Quiet! Ugh, what the hell?! First, you show up on MY ship, second, you’ve possibly caused us to be in danger and now you just… threw UP all over me! Ryona, get her to the empty room. She’s being dropped off on the first planet we land on.”  I looked over at her, she motioned me out of the room.

She dropped me off at a small room with a single bed, sort of embedded into the wall. There was a table with a chair in the corner. Small, but I’m okay with that. She left me with some tiny capsules that she said would help me feel better and settle my stomach. I took a deep breath before collapsing onto the not-so-comfortable bed. It only took but a moment before I drifted off into sleep. Wherever I am… I need to figure out where my home is.

[ursa-tan]

Day 1 - Leather & Latex + Pegging

Eddie Dear x Female Reader

Word count: 1,820 Reading time: ~6 mins

You and Eddie are dating. So he doesn't think anything of it when you invite him over for the evening. Although he is rather surprised by what you want to do when he gets there

When you had invited Eddie to come over and hang out, he had been expecting something like dinner. Or maybe a craft date. Really, he had been expecting a sweet evening with his girlfriend.

What he hadn’t been expecting was your you to tug him through the front door into the living room as soon as he arrived. Or for you to push him onto the sofa and climb into his lap so you could press your lips against his.

“W-Woah! Sugar what are you doin’?” His face is flushed completely red as he grips your waist, pushing you up so he can look at your face.

“Sorry,” you giggle, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple, then cheek and finally lips before pulling away to look at him again, “I’ve got an idea and I really want to try it, can we try it?” You look so excited, and he just can’t say no to you… Especially not when you’re so eager and already sat on his lap.

Before he speaks again, he notices that you’re not wearing your normal attire. Instead, you’re donning a strange, smooth, shiny pair of leggings and an oversized cotton t-shirt. The collar of which hangs low enough to expose the same shiny, black material covering your collar bones and neck .

“What’s with the new clothes?” He asks, running his fingers down your thigh to your knee and then back up to your waist, pushing the oversized t-shirt up to show even more of the material.

“Well…” you lean down until your face is inches from his, “If you wanna find out, you should come up to my room,” you press a kiss to his lips before climbing off of him and walking to the door that leads out to the hallway. You stop before you disappear through the doorway and blow him a kiss – then you’re gone.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate at all, clambering up and kicking his shoes off before following you. His hat falls as well, falling off while he hurries up the stairs. He practically bursts through your door to find you sat on your bed, legs hanging off the edge. You’ve abandoned your t-shirt in favour of whatever you were wearing under it.

“You look lovely,” Eddie hums, walking over and slotting himself between your legs. His hands come to either side of your hips and he leans forwards, intending to kiss you.

“And you look ever so handsome,” your hand comes up to his chest, splaying over the white shirt before you suddenly tug at his tie and kiss him rather forcefully.

Eddie lets out a small sound before relaxing into the kiss, closing his eyes and tilting him head to allow him to deepen the kiss. His large hands come  to your hips as he leans into you. Although this doesn’t last long, as you use your legs and the hand pulling at his tie to force him onto the bed, straddling his hips once again.

“You ready, dear?” You lean down, peppering his face and jaw with kisses.

“Ready for what?” He mumbles, letting his eyes fall closed as you kiss him. His hands wander around your body, feeling the smooth material that prevents him from touching your skin.

“You’ll see.” You chuckle and work your way down until you can press kisses against his neck. While you do, you move your hands to his waist, allowing you to unbuckle his belt in one smooth, practiced motion. As soon as the buckle is no longer in the way, you’re slipping the belt out of his trousers and dropping it on the floor – it’ll be something for you to worry about later.

You climb off of Eddies lap almost immediately after this, pressing one last kiss to his neck before rushing over to your bedside table and pulling open the bottom draw. You rifle through it for a while, looking for something that Eddie doesn’t know about. However, the way that you’re bent over gives him an amazing view of your ass.

“You look good from this angle,” Eddie chuckles to himself as he props himself up on his elbows.

“Can you strip for me baby?” You ask without looking at him, reaching up to place a bottle of lube on the top of the bedside table.

Eddie lets out a small sound of surprise and apprehension as he lays eyes upon the bottle. A surge of excitement rushes though his body, because the lube combined with your strange new attire makes him think you want to try something fun. He doesn’t spend much time thinking though, and quickly strips down, letting his clothes fall wherever on the floor – once again, that would be a problem for tomorrow.

“Bend over the bed please,” You say, finally standing up from where you were bent over and going through the draw. You had something in your hands that Eddie couldn’t see, as you still had your back to him when you stood.

“Oh… Well, this is new,” He mumbles, turning to lean over the bed, having to spread his legs slightly to keep his balance as he does.

You walk over and stand behind him, leaning over him and wrapping one hand around his semi-hard cock. He can feel something pressing against his ass as you do, but he doesn’t think to hard about it as you start to pump his cock. Your hand is already covered in slick – but he didn’t hear the lube open, so he assumes it’s your saliva. The cool latex of your suit feels so wonderful against his skin as well. Everything your doing pulls him further and further into the moment until he’s letting out low, soft groans and rocking his hips into your hand.

You pull away far too soon for his liking, releasing his now aching cock in favour of using both of your hands to grip his ass. He doesn’t get a chance to do anything but let out a small sound of surprise before you’re pressing your thumb against his tight asshole.

“(Y/n) w-what’re y’ doing?” His voice is shaky as he cranes his neck to look back at you, a mix of nervousness and excitement on his face.

“Do you trust me?” You mumble, using your thumb to rub circles around his tight hole.

“Y…Yes, I do,” He mumbles, still looking back at you.

“The safe word is cinnamon, ok?” Is all you say before you reach back to grab the lube, popping the lid with a sharp, plastic pop.

Eddie isn’t given any time to think before you’re squeezing some out and onto his ass. It’s incredibly cold and makes him jump forwards slightly – yet he can’t deny that he enjoys it, even if only a little. The cold isn’t there for long, however, as you quickly put your thumb back. It moves around much more readily now, thanks to the presence of the lube.

Not too long after you put your thumb back, Eddie can feel you pressing it against his asshole. The nervousness floods back into his body for a split second, until its very suddenly replaced by pleasure as your thumb slips inside. It does so surprisingly easily, slipping in to the first knuckle without any resistance.

You pull your thumb out for a second before pushing it back in. You find that there’s no resistance from Eddie’s body as you pump your thumb into it. So, you change and start using a couple of fingers. The same thing happens, they slip in easily, his body making way for them as you begin to pump them into him. The way his moans fill the air tell you he loves it too. They’re not Eddie’s usual, low grunts and groans anymore – they’re full on moans.

You take this is a signal that he’s ready for the next part of your plan, so you remove your fingers from him and lean back. You hear him whimper and can’t help but chuckle a little as he pushes his ass back, seemingly searching for the sensation of your fingers once again.

“Just a moment baby,” you hum, popping the lube open again and squirting some onto the strap-on you had slipped on after Eddie bend over the bed. You use the hand that was already covered in lube to pump the silicone cock, slick wet sounds echoing out as you do.

“(Y/n) please, I can’t wait anymore- whatever you’re gonna do, just do it!” You’d never seen or heard him so desperate.

“Ok, ok… just be patient,” You giggle, grabbing the fake cock and slowly guiding the head towards his asshole. Once you’ve got it lined up, you slowly begin to push it in, inch by inch, going as slowly as possible.

Eddie’s head drops onto the bed, face first, as he begins to let out short, strangles moans pouring out of his throat. His whole body is trembling and yet he still pushes his hips backwards and into yours. You can’t help but snap your hips forwards when he does push back against you. He lets out a sharp, hissing moan when you do, but nothing else he dose makes you think he wants you to stop.

You begin to thrust slowly, setting a gentle rhythm to begin with, trying as hard as possible not to hurt him as you slowly begin to fuck his asshole. You take the opportunity to reach round and wrap your hand around his cock again, pumping slowly – in time with your thrusts.

Eddie lets out long, breathy moans as you fuck yourself into him. He can’t help but to rock his hips with you, legs trembling as he does. He’s desperate for you and everything you can give him in this moment.

It’s not long before your speeding up both your thrusts and the pumping of your fist. The way you stroke him has his hips shuddering, bucking forwards into your hand while also trying to buck back into your ever-quickening thrusts.

“Yin I can’t-“ Eddie’s words pour out of his mouth in a babbling stream that he can’t seem to control.

You lean over him, pressing sloppy kisses to the back of his neck and his shoulders. The way you pump your hips becomes a little sloppy – how does Eddie do this for so long?

It’s not long after his words that Eddie is toppling over his edge, cumming hard and making a mess of your sheets and your hand. Once he finishes he collapses forwards onto the mattress and buries his face into the sheets.

When you try to pull out, a strong hand reaches out and grips your thigh, tugging you back and keeping you buried to the hilt inside him. It’s accompanied by a soft, rumbling voice “Just a little longer…” and you can’t help but comply.

[justafrogandherumbrella]

Welcome to Nowhere: Circles

“It has come to my attention that you have been struggling during your time here at our company. As the CEO, as well as your hiring manager, I have taken it upon myself to help you. To amend this issue, I have decided to…”

You blink, rubbing your eye as your surroundings come back into focus. You’re blanking out again. What were you thinking of just now? You can’t recall. 

“Are you alright, Rue?” your supervisor, Andrea, asks you.

“Yeah, I think so…” you mumble. Your head feels funny. 

“All right,” she says, small soup-bubbles forming on her face as water drips down from the ceiling and landing on her. “You’ve been assigned an official cubicle, so if you just follow me, I’ll lead you there. You’ll be able to find all of your work there, so I don;t want to hear you complaining about ‘not knowing what you’re supposed to do’ anymore from here on out. Do you understand?”

“Uh-huh,” you say absentmindedly. Have you ever said that before? You suppose it does sound familiar. 

“Alright,” she huffs. “Right this way.”

She leads you to a quiet, but busy room with fluorescent lighting and a faded, yellow-stained carpet. The room is filled with small, identical, cubicles, each with the same old computers and stacks of paperwork. Each and every one has a despondent worker inside, mindlessly typing or writing, You hear a quiet sob from somewhere in the room.

“Just ignore them,” Andrea sighs. “They’ll stop eventually.”

She continues to lead you past the dozens and dozens of cubicles, and you can’t help but look away, instead looking at the floor. You don’t know how much more misery you can stand to see. 

“Alrightly,” Andreea says as you arrive at the end of the row. “This right here is yours,” she explains, pointing to the empty cubicle next to you. “You are not to leave until your shift here is over, do you understand?”

“But what if I finish my work early?”

She looks at you for a moment before chuckling. “Sorry,” she says between laughs. “I didn’t realize you were being serious. Don’t you worry about that, okay? You won’t.”

“Oh… okay,” you mutter, scratching your head. You still feel pretty out of it. Isn’t there something else you need to do right now?

“Well,” Andrea says, turning to leave. “I’ll leave you to it.”

After she disappears from your line of vision, you step into your cubicle. There’s even less space than you thought. The chair by your wood-rotted desk squeaks when you sit down, and everything is a sickening shade of yellow. 

There’s a small pile of paperwork on your desk. You think that’s what you’re supposed to start with. You take a piece of paper from the top of the pile, and find it has writing on it, but you can’t read it. Looking at it makes your head hurt. Still, you do your best to complete it. This is what you’re supposed to be doing, after all. 

So why does it feel like there’s something missing?

You’re not sure when your first shift ended, but now you’re beginning your shift at your second job. Your job at Dispassion High School. You aren’t really sure what you’re supposed to do here, but then again, you aren’t really sure what your job at the office is either. 

You arrive at the school, walking through the front doors. Your head still feels strange. Maybe a walk through the hall will help. 

Unfortunately, the single, dark, circular hall that makes up Dispassion High doesn’t seem to do much help clearing your head, and you only find yourself feeling more befuddled as you walk in circles. Maybe walking in circles does that to you. 

Starting to get a bit of a headache, you decide to stop walking and end up sitting down in the hallway. You lean up against the wall, burying your head in your hands and trying to figure out what it is you aren’t thinking of. There’s something there, but you can’t remember what it is. 

“Rue?” A soft, quiet voice asks from above. 

You look up, and see a girl in a green turtleneck with a rose bush in place of a head. She’s familiar to you. You know her. She’s… she’s… hmm. You can’t seem to remember her name right now. 

“Are you okay?” She asks, looking at you with concern. 

Oh. You remember now, this is Ava. She’s one of Bianca’s friends… she… she’s important somehow. How could you have forgotten?

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, standing back up. “What are you doing out here?”

“Oh,” she says. “My teacher gave me permission to leave the classroom. I’m grabbing some worksheets from the copy machine for them.”

“Oh, okay,” you say. “Well, I have to go. See you later.” You need to find Bianca. You… you have something going on. Some kind of shared knowledge between the two of you, but you can’t remember what it is. She might though, so you need to find her. 

You find yourself walking the circle once more, but this time with purpose. You walk quickly, feeling as though that for whatever reason, you don’t want people to see you looking. You don’t know why, but you can feel it. It seems that another thing you can feel, but don’t know why, is where to go. You know which doors not to open, and which doors might yield results.  The first door you open is that of the nurse’s office, only to find an empty, flooded room. The next door that you open, however, is the cafeteria door. You don’t expect to find anything in the cafeteria, and you don’t. You do, however, find exactly who you’re looking for on the other side of a freezer door. 

“Rue!” Bianca shouts, pushing past a block of frozen meat, running up and hugging you. “I’m so glad you’re okay!” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you ask, hesitantly returning her hug. 

“Well, I…” she starts to say, fumbling and looking over to… Lucas for help. 

Lucas, too, looks distressed, shaking his head at Bianca’s silent plea for help. 

“I don’t know,” she says at last. 

“Hello, Rue!” A cheery sounding voice says from behind you. “You’ve done an excellent job today!”

“...Huh?” you ask, turning around to face your principal. “What did I do?”

“Oh, you,” she says, laughing. “You’re a riot, y’know that? Anywho, thanks for finding these… delinquents for me. I’ll be taking them back to class now.”

Delinquents? That’s funny. For some reason, that’s not what comes to your mind at all when thinking about Binaca, or Ava, or Jenny, or any of Bianca’s friends. Strange, why do you think that?

“Wait, Rue,” Lucas says, fishing through his bag. “Take this, I updated it when-”

“Oh, hush,” your principal snaps, tugging Lucas’ bag away from him. In doing so, she bumps into Bianca, causing something to drop from her hand.

The thing clatters to the floor, and you lean down to look at it. However, before you can see what it is, your principal hurriedly picks it up off the floor, shoving it in her pocket. 

“Well,” she says nervously. “I have a class to teach, I should get going.”

“Wait,” you say, grabbing her wrist. “What was that?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she says, her palm sweating. “It’s just a hand mirror, that’s all.” With that, she turns heel in leaves with Lucas and Bianca in tow. 

A hand mirror, huh? Strange, you could’ve sworn you saw a glimpse of red. 

You blink and you’re back at the office again. You suppose it’s time for your shift to begin. 

Hey, doesn’t Gia work here too? Where are they? You highly doubt they’re enjoying office work. If you can find them, you’d like to try cheering them up.  Speaking of Gia… where’s Bea? It’s been a while since you last saw the dog…

“Rue,” Andrea says, snapping her soapy fingers in front of your face, creating a little pop sound. “C’mon, you’re gonna be late for your shift.”

Once again, you are led to your cubicle and left alone. Someone is still crying in the background. 

Today, there is no pile of paperwork, so you assume that all your work must be on the computer. You power it on, and once again find hundreds of files of nonsense-words and numbers that don’t make any sense. You have no idea what you’re supposed to do.  Still you spend all the not-quite-hours trying to decipher their meaning, and when you can't you do your best to complete the work anyway. 

You’re at the school again, and you can’t help but think that the last time you were here, you had something you wanted to do, but never finished.  Unfortunately, you can;t remember what it is anymore. 

“Rue,” the principal-teacher says, poking her head outside of one of the five doors in the hall. “Can you come in for a moment?”

You nod, following her into her classroom.  As you enter, you aren’t at all surprised to see the classroom is just as disorderly and disgusting as the rest of the town. The pink paint on the walls is chipped, damp, and faded; there’s bits of mold on the walls, and all the students’ desks are broken down and rotting. 

“Rue?” Felicity’s voice asks, and you turn to see her sitting at one of the desks. She sits next to Ollie, as well as a hairless-cat girl who looks vaguely familiar to you. 

“Felicity,” Principal Mary’s voice warns.

Felicity shuts her mouth, looking down. 

“Good,” the principal huffs, turning her attention back to you. “Rue, do you think you could do me a favor?” she asks.

“Uhm…” you hesitate, looking around the room while Felicity stares at you intensely. “... Suuuuuure.”

“Lovely,” she says, opening one of her many, rotting desk drawers and rummaging through it. “Here,” she says, pulling out a large  paper bag. “Do you think you could dispose of this and its contents for me? In fact…” she trails off, nervously eyeing her students.  “Burn them for me, please?”

“No!” The cat-girl shouts, standing up from her desk and glaring at you. “You can’t do that!”

“Wren!” Ollie hisses, grabbing her arm and pulling her back down. “Sit down! We’ll figure it out later.”

Felicity stays silent, looking at you in alarm. 

“Rue?” the principal prompts, holding out the bag to you. 

You stare in silence for a moment before taking it and leaving the classroom. 

You stop, hesitating as you have the fire in front of you. Why was “Wren” so adamant about not burning the bag? Maybe you’ll just take it with you…

You’re at the office again, sitting in your dingy cubicle. You need to start work soon, but there was something… something you could swear that you were just doing that’s more important. 

But no. Nothing is more important. 

You power on your old computer again, waiting for it to load. It’s a slow thing. As you wait for it to power on, you listen to the dozens of hands in this very room, all typing at once. In your boredom, you try to make a tune out of it, even with the soft crying in the background. … But there is no music to be found here. 

When you turn back to your computer, something catches your eye. There’s a paper bag sitting under your desk. That’s what you were thinking of, just a moment ago. 

Looking around to make sure no one sees you, you cautiously open the bag to see what’s inside. They’re books. Just… a small stack of books. Feeling curious, and a little uneasy as well, you lift the first book from the top of the stack. It’s pale green in color, with a simple design of a bluebird embroidered on the front cover. You open it up to the first page. 

Property of Lucas: Things I might forget.

I don’t know what’s going on, but I think I’m forgetting things. Things that I really, really need to remember. So is everyone else. I didn’t wanna talk about it for a really long while because I was so worried about people thinking I’m crazy, but eventually, my girlfriend, Bianca, gathered our whole group around to talk about it. As it turns out, everyone else has been experiencing a similar thing. Wren made us these journals so we can write everything down. That way, if we are forgetting things, we have these to remind us that something is going on here, something even worse than we thought. So, I’ll guess I’ll start with some basic info… although this is stuff I’ve never really forgotten.  Dispassion Offices is some kind of monopoly run by my girlfriend’s dad, and it has a fucking chokehold on this town. Mr. Rotary, the CEO and owner, wants Bianca to inherit his company/become his second in command or whatever, but she wants nothing to do with it. Neither do any of us. Unfortunately, when we graduate we’ll be forced to work there non-stop, and so we’ve all decided to do whatever it takes not to graduate. So far, things have been going pretty well in that aspect. 

“Rue!”

You slam the journal shut, shoving it back into the bag before looking up. “Yes?” You say, expecting your supervisor to scold you for being off-task. 

… But it isn’t Andrea. It’s Emerson. 

Your heart swells in your chest, though you can’t explain why you’re so relieved to see him. 

“Rue, I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for what feels like forever now,” they say hurriedly, beads of slime dripping down their slug-face. “I need to know what happened. One minute, I was out with my group in the middle of the desert, and the next everyone’s talking about needing to go to work. They just left me there, Rue! They were in some kind of trance or something, it was like I didn’t exist at all! And… And…” he mumbles, starting to sound almost a little angry. “And you just… disappeared! You vanished without a trace and never even bothered to tell me what happened to you! You just-”

“Emerson,” you say, feeling awfully confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Wha- what do you mean?” They ask, stepping back away from you. “Oh- oh now. It’s happened to you too, hasn’t it? I- I can’t,” they stop, gasping for air as their breath starts to come in short, panicked breaths. 

“Excuse me, sir?” An unfamiliar voice says from outside your cubicle. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. 

You’re at the school again, sitting in the principal’s office while the students are eating in the cafeteria.

“Rue,” she says. “Did you do as I asked earlier?”

“Hmmn?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. You aren’t really sure what she’s talking about. 

“With the paper bag?” she prompts. “Did you burn it?”

“Oh,” you gasp a little upon the realization. “Oh, yes, I did,” you lie. It’s okay. You’ll just do it later. She doesn’t have to find out. 

“Excellent,” she says. “You don’t know this, but what you have done will help our struggling graduating class finally get to where they need to be. You’ve been a great help. Here,” she says cheerfully. “Why don’t you take the rest of this shift off and head to the office early, hmmn?”

Back at the office again, you turn on your computer again, just like you always do. Again. And again, you do the same thing. You don’t even try to remember why anymore. 

At the school things are different, but you don’t remember how. It’s… quieter, you suppose? No, that’s not the right word. There just… aren’t any secrets being whispered in the halls, or plans spoken between friends.  But that’s what you’re supposed to want, isn’t it? 

At the office after your shift at the school, Mr. Rotary himself comes to visit your cubicle. You suppose that you’re supposed to feel honored. 

“Hey… R- Ruben?” he asks, without really asking. “Ruben. Anyways, Ruben, I heard there was a bit of a disturbance at your desk earlier. Has this had any effect on you?”

You’re a little surprised he’s even pretending to care. 

“No, not really,” you say, not willing to confess that you no longer remember the “incident” with clarity. 

“Lovely,” he says, taking a sip from his wine glass. “Hmmmn, what’s that?” he asks, pointing to a paper bag. 

“Oh,” you say, scratching the back of your head. “I… I’m not really sure. I think I was supposed to burn it?”

“Oh, of course! Here, I’ll get that for you,” he says, leaning down to pick up the bag before leaving with it as the phone that is his head begins to ring. 

For some reason, you feel a sense of loss. 

You still work your shift at the school, but just like the office, nothing really happens. You spend this shift just pacing around the circular hall, again, and again, and again. Around, and around, and around. 

You can’t help but feel that you're missing something. Something that used to be there, but isn’t anymore. You want to get it back… but you don’t know what it is. You’re missing something that doesn’t exist, and there’s nothing you can do about it. And so you work. 

You see Gia as you enter the office. They look… hollow. Dead, even. You want to stop and talk to them… but you have work to do. 

As you sit down in your cubicle today, the muffled cries of the mystery worker seem just a little bit louder than normal. For the first time, you cry with them. 

At the school again. You don’t do anything. Just pace. Again. Around the circle you go. 

At the office again. You open your computer. You cry. You work. 

At the school again. You pace. You cry. You work. 

You work. 

You work. 

You work. 

Around.

And around.

And around.

[pixiesoulpixiedust]

i don´t understand

i wish i could've loved you more; i wish you could've loved me less. i wish we could've loved each other in a quantity that wouldn't spill from our hands as we cupped them together trying to make something so slippery stay firm. from the very beginning i thought of you as a walking home, thin walls and all, from which i could hear every heartbeat and blood rush while standing meters away; from which i could feel the nervousness any time i caught you singing military songs from countries that no longer exist. i told you i had never been able to let myself loose and allow someone else to hold me, to comfort me, to take care of me the way you did. i meant that--maybe too literally. i think i put the heaviest responsibility over you, and you pulled me down to get vulnerable even when i didn't want to.

so much so that now i have to pick up every block that builds me up, previously held together by your cold touch, and walk around holding myself together from the inside; growing more arms than one person should need, to keep myself from collapsing with every step i take.

and as i lay alone at night, in a bed that a few months ago started to feel too small and now feels too big, i think of all the words that i no longer say; all the jokes that no one else will find funny; all the cartoonish sounds we made up to communicate as if we were the only two animals stranded in a remote island; we could almost read our minds--and now there's this thick, layered, obscured silence that i can only get out by swimming to the nearest exit, one which i have not succeeded to find. still, i remember all the times you hurt me and all the times i hurt you. i remember telling you that i am bad for you, that you shouldn't depend on me and that i had given you all i had to give. but you wouldn't let go, even though our string was getting strained by the minute-no, no, by the second.

i talk about you, about your lacks in this and my lacks in that. i get poignant as my voice raises and everyone around me agrees that you fucked up. and i wish we had at least three more hours to tell them about all the times you turned my head around yelling "don't look!" when we passed by roadkill, about you cleaning my room and arranging my stuffed animals on my bed while i was gone, about the beautiful things you wrote for me, about the spark in your eyes when i told you about what I'd dreamt the night before, about your careful listening of every word that ever left my mouth and your witty comments about my writing.

but it'd quickly circle back to the way you'd always shut down when i wanted to dance-but you danced with someone else; it'd circle back to you wanting me to fix your problems; to you putting the blame on me for insecurities you've had since before we walked the same hallways; to you forcing me to have sex when i didn't want to; to you seeing me cry and start to cry with me only to go back to do the thing that made me cry in the first place.

i couldn't make out a consensus about our relationship even if it guaranteed me a scholarship-because it is always so much more complicated than that. no matter all the tantalizing moments we shared and, as you insist, could have added to, i couldn't help feeling my love wither away. with every touch, every kiss, every senseless talk, it was getting clearer that i didn´t want to stay there. i tried to fill every empty basket with love, because oh my god did we have enough to give around the world twice. but it didn't suffice.

i think, in the end, a love so tremendous and hard-hitting cannot be made sense of. it's impossible to imagine having to keep speed running through five long and confusing and intense and dashing years to try to get other people to understand.

i don't understand. maybe i never will. it just is, and i'll keep on holding my pieces together while i stumble across the plain of the city until it sticks--and until i forget what it was like having someone else (you) glue me uptight every night with a kiss.

when did i stop longing for your kisses? i don't understand.

[elslittlestories]

A follow up to Tech's awakening. It's a lot of exposition and basically my trying to flesh out my characters, sorry! Do you notice the little things like how Tech describes the things he sees or how he never assign emotions on anything ?

Words count : 836 POV: Tech

I follow Nurse Dita down a long hallway—too white—until she stops by a door. She presses a button—the third from the right—and steps inside. The light is softer here and there’s music playing—Blue curtains to the left, machines and cramped laboratory benches ahead, boxes and tables to the right with large windows.

“Welcome to the nursery,”

I lift my face toward Nurse Dita, then turn back to the windows. Outside, a large structure hides the sky. Lights strakes the dark shape in white and yellow. I wonder if that’s where the other clones are.

“This will be your home for a little while. I’ll give you a tour, but first, you need to eat.”

She hands me a bottle—blue liquid, rubber cap— How long is a little while? —with a smile and adds:

“If you don’t like the nipple, I can take it off.”

The same way my body knew how to walk, I lift the bottle to my mouth and start sucking the blue milk. The taste is odd and the feeling of it flowing down my throat even odder. Not in a bad way. There’s a board on the wall, I step closer. I think I know what the squares pinned on it are. Pictures.

“Are these other clones like me?”

I count 17 squares. Round faces, dark brown hair. Some of them smile. The music changes to a quicker rhythm.

“Yes, they’re all former residents of the nursery.”

“Where are they now?”

“Some of them are with the other clones now, to start their training.”

Is that the building other the window? —What are they training for?—I still don(t know how long I’ll stay here. —And what about the others? —Will I meet the clones of my batch some day?

 “And others?”

“That’s a discussion for later…”

I lift the bottle up to drink. When is later? Nurse Dita kneels in front of me.

“For now, it’s going to be just you and me, and Zee.”

“And CT-9732 [ndla: Wrecker],” I correct.

“Right. He might need a few days to wake up, though.”

I nod, drinking more milk. There’s a nice feeling of it filling my belly. I wonder if CT-9732 will like the milk too.

“We can take your picture now and add it to the board, if you want. And then we’ll have to measure you. It’s a tradition!”

She points to the frame of the door. I squint and see black marks on it, with messy scribbles. A lot of them are gathered but a few lines are higher above. There’s one lower too. Nurse Dita positions me against the wall and Zee casts a blue light on my face. She instructs me not to move as she produces a pen from her pocket. I feel her hand over my head and once I’m allowed to step away, she’s writing something on the wall. I can’t tell my mark from the others, but Zee says:

“100 centimeters. Within tolerated range.”

That’s good! 100 is a nice number. I squint and count 23 marks.

“Why are there more marks than pictures?”

Nurse Dita takes a moment to answer:

“Because I forgot to mark some of them before they left.”

I tilt my head. I’ll have to remind her to do mine before I leave for my training— When? — Where? — What for?

“What are we trained for?” I ask.

“Soldier. You and your brothers are meant to save the galaxy one day.”

She ruffles my hair. I swerve away and notice the poster on the wall—two rows of figures of various sizes, from smallest to tallest.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a chart to compare standard human growth with yours.”

Standard human. I’m not a standard human. There’s something wrong with me.

“See, clones have something called accelerated growth. It means your body develops faster. Right now, you look like four years old.”

I step closer as she points to the first figure of the bottom line—I grow faster—I’m not a standard human.

“And in ten years, you’ll look like an adult.”

“What else is wrong with me?”

Nurse Dita turns to me and puts her hand on my shoulder.

“Nothing’s wrong with you, Honey. You diverge from a naturally born human but that doesn’t make you wrong.”

“But it means I’m different.”

“You are. You’re even different from the rest of your batch, but that’s not a bad thing.”

I frown. Different doesn’t mean bad. Okay. But how clones can be different?

“Now, look at Zee so they can take your picture, Honey.”

The droid hovers down to face me—Clones should all be the same— The music changes again to a higher-pitched tune and Zee waves his hands in a funny way. I smile, his left eye blinks—Whoa!

“You can take pictures with your eyes?!”

“Indeed, I can. I can also record and project as well. Would you like a demonstration?”

“Yes!” That’s fascinating! I wish I could do that too!

The end of the long sleep

or Decanting day #2

All it takes is one comment, and here I am writing more about how clone are born! It was fun figuring a way to write Tech's mind (and possibly hinting at a thing or two). Hope you like it !

This is part of a series of snipets of the batch's early life. Follow the whole series with the #Dita's nursery for deviants and divergents

Words count : 745

POV: Tech

The long sleep is finally over. My ears are the first to wake up—beeps, louder than in my dream, and new sounds—then the cold sets in. I shiver. My eyes flutter open—bright!—and close. Something hums next to me. I try opening my eyes again, slowly. Why is the white so bright?

“Greetings CT-8324. Your decantation was a success. Please stand up and put your uniform on.”

My name is CT-8324—What is decantation?

I blink, squinting my eyes until the white isn’t so blinding. I prop myself up and flex my fingers and toes. My body tingles. I am CT-8324. I am awake. The medical droid—round shapes, yellow eyes—stares down at me.

“He-hello,” I say.

The sound vibrates through my throat and mouth. I try again, it’s less shaky. I smile. I can talk!

The droid helps me with my clothes—blue pants, blue tunic—What does that symbol on the shoulder means? My limbs are stiff and it’s hard to get them out of the sleeves. When I’m done, I skip off the bed—Cold!

The hard floor under my feet surprises me. I test the feeling, shifting my weight from one leg to the other. My head is at the mattress’ height. I take a small step. I can walk! I never walked before, but it’s as if my body knows what to do on its own.

I circle around my bed—blurry screens, metal arms coming out of the wall, big machines—with the droid hovering behind me, insisting that I put on my shoes. On the next beds, two boys—dark hair, cupper skin, round cheeks—lies with a small machine attached to their face.

“What happened to them?” I ask, approaching the first one.

“CT-8956 suffered a brain aneurism during his decanting. It’s unlikely he’ll wake up.”

What is an aneurism? —What is the decantation? Oh no, I remember this one. It’s like birth—Why can’t he wake up?

“Why?”

“His brain sustained heavy damages. The probability of him being terminated is high.”

“Terminated?”

“Yes.”

I frown. I’m not sure what the word means, but it sounds like the end. I reckon it’s a bad thing. I turn to the other boy.

“What about him?”

“CT-9732 woke up too soon and went into respiratory distress.”

I look at the machine covering his mouth and nose, and listen to the sound that comes and goes with the rise and fall of the boy’s chest.

“He can’t breathe?”

“That is correct.”

“Are you going to terminate him too?”

“There is still a possibility that his condition improves. My estimation is a 68% chance of recovery.”

68%. That’s a big number. It must be good. I step closer to the bed and look at the screens behind him. A blur of blue and white and yellow and red.

“Are there only three of us?”

“You are part of the 36th batch, which consists of…”

The droid’s eyes flicker.

“…1849 successfully decanted clones.”

That’s an even bigger number! —Where are the others? —I am a clone—What is a clone? —If I am from the 36th batch, how many clones are they all in all? —Oh! I remember now, a clone is a being created from another being, like a copy. Then are we all brothers?

Before I can pick a question, the door whooshes open and a woman—blue coat, brown hair, pale skin—steps in with another medical droid. She kneels before me—gray eyes, mole on her cheek—and smiles:

“Hi, Honey. How are you feeling?”

I tilt my head. She smells strange. How do I feel?

“Awake,” I tell her.

She raises her eyebrows and chuckles.

“Fair enough. I’m Dita, and this is Zee.”

She points at the droid. It looks exactly like the one I spoke too before, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to differentiate them.

“We’re here to take you to the nursery.”

I look back at CT-9732.

“Don’t worry. I’ll come back for him when he wakes up.”

I nod and wiggle my toes. The floor feels nice. I hope he wakes up.

She stands up, asks Zee to take my shoes from the other droid and holds out her hand to me.

“Would you like me to carry you or do you prefer to walk?”

“Walk!”

She chuckles again. I like that sound.

“Go on, then. Breakfast is waiting for you, you must be hungry!”

I frown. Am I?

[towriteloveontheirarms]

misunderstandings and other problems Part 2 of 2 (modern!Aegon II Targaryen x reader)

synopsis: “What is your problem?”, you whisper scream at his casually leaning against the countertop figure.

There was no need for anyone possibly in the house to hear you.

“You´ve been hanging out with my brother a lot lately.”, it´s a simple statement, just a fact but his attempt to deflect still makes your blood boil. “And you have been inviting a lot of girls over from what I heard. So?

warnings: mentions of drug use, some angst

word count: 2.1k

Unlike what you had hoped the memories had only deepened more that night and in a very annoying addition to it you had found yourself missing his warmth when you couldn´t sleep. This was going too far, so you shot Helaena a quick text, deciding to meet up after lessons for coffee and a talk in your favourite coffee shop.

When she walks towards the coffee place the next day the first thing she is greeted with, is you sitting over your coffee, head in your hands.

Getting a beverage for herself she plops down in the seat opposite to your figure and makes herself known with a “So? What did he do this time?”

Looking up you raise an eyebrow at her.

“My brother? I´m assuming this is about him.”, a compassionate smile finds its way onto her lips.

“Nothing! Not this time. It´s entirely my fault.”

“Alright then what did you do? We haven´t had a late night SOS since… Oh please don´t tell me it´s what I think it is.”

As her face changed from amused to slight horror you let your head sink down in shame again.

“No, not this time, but in my defence I didn´t mean to! I don´t even know if it really is what I think it is. It´s just… you know him… we smoked something and fell asleep and when I woke up we were cuddling. And when I helped him into his room he just pulled me in with him…. He probably didn´t even mean anything by it. It´s just my stupid brain… Ow!”, you stopped your rambling as she lightly punched you in the arm.

“Didn´t you say and I quote `Ew gross, I would never start anything with Aegon. He is your brother I would never do that to you. Also god knows where he has been.´ only a couple months ago?”

“I know what I said, alright? It´s just that he looked so pretty when he was asleep… My high brain couldn´t help but feel this need to kiss him. Ow, don´t hit me again! I would never act on it. I promise. I just probably needed to talk to someone about it so it can pass.”

“Sometimes you really are something else… I mean really? Aegon? You know Aemond I would understand but Aegon?”

“I love you too, Hel”

The two of you finished your coffees talking some more before deciding to stroll through the city some more in an attempt to get your best friends brother out of your head again. Which with a sober mind was easier than the days before, but even now there was this tiny bit of hope left that would follow you around for the oncoming weeks.

When the time of exams and essays comes you find yourself at the Targaryen’s house more often again. Either studying with Helaena, asking Aemond for help with an essay you are unsure about or just distracting yourselves after deadline you barely made to forget the stress of the past days. And while there is not much time to get into feelings or think about anything outside of schoolwork you naturally see Aegon more. It was his house too after all. Seeing him alone would have been mostly fine, but it was then that he decided to have some… company. Every day. It isn´t until you start basically locking yourself in with Aemond in order to really get some work done though, that he decides to overdo it just a little too much. Sure for as long as you had known him he had done this and you weren´t in a place where you could get mad at him for it, but especially ever since the two of you had gotten closer it seemed like he had stopped doing it so much. And the way these girls looked at you when you saw them in the hallways… you couldn´t even describe it. It was irritating to say the least though. Nonetheless you push it down, try to talk to him normally and focus on your other friends and school.

It is a plan that works well until that one afternoon he makes it so you can´t ignore him any longer.

Aemond and you had been on a project for the past two days now, basically locked in his room, determined to get it over with. Just when he had decided you should take a break, you started to hear it. Almost obnoxiously loud, the moans and screams of Aegon’s name in a high pitched voice sounded through the walls of the floor you were on.

“I´m sorry for my brothers… antics. I´d like to say we don´t know what got into him, cause he has been bettering himself for a while now, but you know…”, as Aemond rolls his eye you nod your head understandingly.

The sting in your heart gets pushed into a box and sealed away with thoughts about your school project. You could still take care of that later. Yet later comes sooner than you had hoped. As Aemond goes on his walk with Vhagar you decide to stay behind and make something to eat for the two of you for when he gets back. Your in the midst of cooking when you hear voices by the door. Stretching your head out of the kitchen, not fully wanting to leave the stove unattended, you have to watch as the oldest Targaryen makes out with probably the girl from earlier. It’s not a pretty sight to see and as he makes a show of grabbing her ass you turn back to your cooking. Shaking your head in annoyance you don´t even notice him entering the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge behind you. Only when he asks what you are cooking you acknowledge his presence.

“What is your problem?”, you whisper scream at his casually leaning against the countertop figure.

There was no need for anyone possibly in the house to hear you.

“You´ve been hanging out with my brother a lot lately.”, it´s a simple statement, just a fact but his attempt to deflect still makes your blood boil.

“And you have been inviting a lot of girls over from what I heard. So? At least Aemond and I are actually doing something productive.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”, there is a kind of fire in his eyes that accompanies the harsh tone in his voice.

“Nothing. I am just saying that I am doing school work with a friend… Why does it even matter?”

“Right, school work.”, he chuckles dryly as if he knows something you don´t before his face turns cold again. “You know what, just forget it.”

“Oh… my…. GOD!”, you exclaimed exasperatedly. “What does it matter? Why do you care so much about who I am spending my time with, huh? Please tell me. It´s not like we are together or something like that.” 

He looked at you, kind of surprised by your gradually rising, normally rather quiet voice. It took a moment for him to try and find the right words, you could see it by the way his mouth opened and closed multiple times. His eyes narrowed, lips pressing together tightly. Pinching the bridge of his nose he exhaled hard and abruptly once before finally answering. 

“It matters because I love you, god dammit!”, as he forcefully brings his fists down onto the countertop only a couple inches from where your abandoned pots stand.

Turning back fully to you, you can now see tiredness creep onto his features as he lets his fists sink to his side.

“What?”, the question escapes in combination with a short and anything but amused chuckle. 

“It´s… I love you.”, he repeated this time quieter as his voice resembled the sentiment shone in his eyes. 

“What?”, you asked again in a sharper tone.

It sounded sharper than you intended and you felt dumb for asking again, but all the other words in your vocabulary seemed to have been wiped from their existence entirely. 

His only answer is to shake his head as he just starts to walk towards his room. 

“Wait!”, you manage to grab his tense shoulder.

To your surprise he actually whirls around to give you a pointed look, prompting you to withdraw your hand as if you had burned it on his body.

“Just forget it, alright?”

That was it.

“No! I am most definitely not forgetting it. And you know why? Because I have been pushing down my feelings constantly ever since you pulled me into bed with you that one evening. I have been telling myself you probably were too high or tired to realize it was me. I have been… I have been… I have had to watch you go ahead and fuck a different girl basically every single day and pretend like I don´t care, like it doesn´t hurt, like we were still friends! You don´t get to just tell me you love me and then walk away! What even was your plan here? I mean seriously?!”

Hot tears had started to stream down your cheeks as you took a step back from him. All the hurt from the past weeks overshadowing any joy of what he had just told you. Your eyes locked with his own blue ones as he took a step towards you. Now tearing up himself he tried to get to you, but for every step he took towards you, you took one backwards until you ran out of space. With your back mow pressed to the cold wall, he softly laid his hands on your cheeks. His thumbs tried to wipe away the tears, but they just fell harder.

“Why didn´t you tell me earlier?”, your body was now shaken by sobs as you weakly hit his chest.

Aegon just let you do your thing. Just holding your face and never caving in under your gaze. When you had calmed down he pulled you close. Wrapping his arms closely around your frame in a tight hug, laying his chin on the top of your head and you thought you heard him say “It´s because I thought you deserved someone better.”

The two of you stood there until your tears ran dry. Only then you dared to lock eyes with him once more, daring to lean your foreheads against each other. It was like there was nothing and yet so much left to be said, but neither of you found the words.

“I love you too.”, you finally whispered.

Suddenly aware of the situation the two of you are in you also feel his hands return to cup your cheeks once more. This time really drying the tears that were left. The soft touches of his rough fingers made your breath hitch and a shudder run through your body. His lips brushed over yours for only second at first, before you locked them together in a feathery, almost hesitant kiss. Your hands fell from where they had been laying on his back to hook in his belt loops as his hands guided your face closer to his. Aegon hummed as your lips became hungrier. The deep sadness and hurt from before had made place for nervousness which now was eaten up by relieve and excitement, but as soon as the kiss had started it ended too. Taking a step away from Aegon once more you felt the nervousness come crawling back.

“I´m sorry I screamed at you… I didn´t mean to… you know?”, you pulled your arms around your middle to stop them from shaking.

“Well I guess I deserved it a bit. But why didn´t you say anything?”, he pulled you back against his body by the hips.

“No you didn´t, I could and should have just said something. I guess I just… I felt like you would secretly still only see me as your sisters friend or that you would laugh at me and never talk to me again. I don´t know what I thought to be honest. I was just stupid.”

“Well now that you did say something, how would you feel about going out with me on Friday?”

“I´d love that.”

Aegon took your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, opening his mouth to say something as you both were interrupted by a third voice coming from just outside the kitchen.

“I´m really glad you two made up again, but I´d be even more glad if I could get myself something to eat and drink now.”

“I´m sorry Hela.”, you said looking over her brothers shoulder, before leading Aegon out of the kitchen by his hand.

Laying down on the couch where all of this had started you intertwined your legs and laid your head on his chest once more. Breathing in the smell of weed and his something you could only describe as him, this time you looked up at his eyes that were resting on you. Pecking your lips, you laid there for a while before you spoke again.

“So what are we gonna do on Friday?”

[firsttimewriter92]

Everything Black Pt. 2

This is a Post Azkaban Sirius Black x fem! reader (Muggle) fic I came up with. This is the first time I´m writing something like this and posting it, so let me know if you have any suggestions as to how I can improve my writing. I am not a native speaker so please keep that in mind :) Please, please don´t copy my work. If you want to repost, please do. I would love it if you tagged me, though :)

Warnings: Dark Wizard "fun" (not pleasent, only in description). Maybe Walburga Black and her screeching. Cheeky Sirius is a warning in itself.

Word count: 8.600 (big chapter, Pt. 1 was more of a teaser)

Summary: Dumbledore brings you to a strange place with even stranger happenings. You get to hear some comments about your host but what happens when you actually meet him?

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You felt as if someone was forcing you down a tube way too small for your body. Your stomach in knots your feet hit the ground hard. You almost fell, but a surprisingly strong hand caught your elbow and pulled you upright again. „Urrgh…what in the actual misty hell was that?“, you groaned out. „You just apparated. We travelled the fastest way we know.“ The old man answered a bit bemused. You shot him a glare holding your head. „We?“, you asked. „We as in Wizards?“. He nodded slowly. You shook your head, regretting it immediately. „That was awful…where are we anyway?“ you asked looking around. You were standing next to some bushes at the fence of some park. It was dark, only a dim streetlight on the other side of the fence showed a moderate street with typical architecture. Typical for „London?!“, you almost shouted.

 „But how? We were just—?”

 „Indeed, isn´t it fascinating?“, the old man asked now positively grinning at you.

„That´s one word for it“, you grumbled.

Now that your head and stomach began to feel normal again, the weight of what just happened started to settle. Before you could open your mouth, the old man started to walk towards a gate and out onto the street. You hurried after him opening your mouth, but he was faster again. „I am afraid questions need to wait Miss ___. There is something I would like to show you.“ You nodded and walked beside the man until he stopped. You stood in front of a baroque looking house with a big brass number 12 over the door. You did not know what it was, but the outside of the house already gave you shivers. It didn´t exactly look well taken care of. „Where are we?“, you asked. „This is the home of someone I know. Someone that could use your help“, he answered.

„My help? How am I supposed to help a frickin´ wizard?“ you asked him with doubt dripping from your voice.

The man started to walk towards the door. When you both stood before it, he held the door handle and said „There are some problems in this world that cannot be solved with magic, my dear. I have no doubt you will do an excellent job. Please make sure not to make too much noise.“

And with these words he opened the door, gesturing for you to enter first. For some eerie reason you trusted this weird old man. You stepped into a dark, long hallway. High ceilings were plastered with already peeling dark green and silver wallpaper and very old paintings. The air was heavy. You didn´t know if it was the dust or the overall threat that seemed to ooze out of every wall. To your left, there was a narrow flight of stairs that lead up to the upper floors. With a look upward you could see a giant chandelier hanging from a seemingly non-existent ceiling. Some soft light emitted from it. You walked further into the house wondering who in their right mind would like to stay in this house for longer than absolutely necessary. „To your left please, Miss___.“ You turned your head toward the old man and saw a door to your left. You opened it and found a flight of stairs going downward. You raised an eyebrow and looked at the man. „Ah, is this now the part where I actually die?“, you asked with a half-smile. The man chuckled and went down the stairs before you.

You began to hear faint voices. To your surprise you did not end up in a dingy cellar, but a kitchen. The layout of the house just did not make sense to you but then again, you were in the presence of a wizard and in the house of one. One side of the kitchen had three big windows. Given they were a bit dirty, but you imagined this part of the house to be brighter than the rest. A big wooden table stood in the middle of the long room and there where people sitting there. You peeked behind the wizards back to look at them. They had a heated discussion, so they had not noticed you yet. The old man cleared his throat. „Please excuse our tardiness, we ran into a problem“, he said with a kind voice. The voices stopped immediately to look at the newcomers. „Albus, about time“, a kind looking plump woman with red hair stood up. „Would you like some tea?“, she asked on her way to the stove. Albus? Was that the wizards name? How odd.

„That would be much appreciated Molly. Please prepare a second cup for our guest as well“, he said. The woman Molly turned around and saw you, now standing next to the old man.

 „Oh“, she looked a bit bewildered. „Yes, of course Albus. How do you have your tea, dear?“ she asked you now directly. The before- going bewilderment changed into a small smile.

„Ah…just milk, thank you“, you said giving her a small smile back.

 „Who did you bring with you, Albus?“ Another man stood from the table and walked towards you. He was a man in his mid to late 30´s you guessed. He had short brown hair and faint scars running across his face. His voice was a bit concerned as he reached out his hand to first shake the wizards and then yours.

„This young lady was about to run into trouble with some Death eaters when I joined. Seeing as she already saw them casting spells, I figured it would not be a good idea to leave her there. Everyone, I would like you to meet ___. And“, he held up a hand as he could see the question in everyone’s faces, „Yes, ___ is a Muggle.“

Death eaters, spells, apparating, men with scars across their face…your head was reeling but you tried not to let them see your inner turmoil. But…

“Hey!“ you exclaimed when you noticed every new person in the room just stared at you. Some with an open mouth. Molly even shot the old man a look of have you lost your mind?

„I may have only learned tonight that magic is real and all, but there is no need to call me names“, you said sternly and looked at the man called Albus with slits for eyes.

„Oh no need to worry, dear. Muggles are what we call people without magic is all“, Molly said in a haste as she placed two cups of tea on the table. You were still glaring but nodded. She smiled at you and patted the stool in front of the cup for you to take a seat. Albus remained standing up while accepting his cup. You now had a chance to look at the other two people in the kitchen. Another red headed man with glasses was looking intently but friendly at you. He opened his mouth but before he could ask a question the last person in the room plopped down next to you. A young woman, maybe your age with bright pink bubble-gum hair was grinning wildly at you. „Hey there. I´m Tonks, pleased to meet you“, she said with a bright voice. You couldn´t help but return a smile just as bright giving her your name again. „Soooo,“ the scarred man turned to you in his seat. „You escaped two death eaters, learned magic is real and met several wizards in one night. How is it you are not passed out or in need of alcohol?“ You took a sip of your tea and looked at him. Even though he looked like he didn´t much care about his appearance you noticed that he had very warm eyes and was over all not bad looking.

„Honestly, I might still lose it but…what I witnessed tonight was so much more exciting than what happened my whole life, so…I would honestly like to know more about this. And about the alcohol, I will take some if the offer still stands“, you gave him a lopsided grin. He smiled briefly at you, stood up and produced a bottle of amber liquid and some small glasses. „Yes. Now you are talking Remus“, Tonks snatched two glasses and the bottle from the table and filled them. Remus sat down again and with a slightly bowed head looked at her. One corner of his mouth quirked up. Was that a blush you saw?

Albus had been quietly talking to Molly and the other red headed man. „I mean, seeing that man moping around the place, maybe this is not such a bad idea.“ Molly said. „But Albus, a Muggle. She cannot leave knowing what she knows now.“

 „I am aware, Molly“, Albus said. „And if she wishes to leave, we have spells that can handle the situation“.

Molly still looked kind of concerned. „Do you think he will take kindly to her? I mean…he is a handful even for those who know him“, the red headed man said. „Arthur!“, Molly said with a frown. „He just came back from Azkaban and now he is stuck here. I do understand that his mood might not be the best. He is most cheerful when there is company around. It is worth a try at least“, she said. Arthur nodded. „You are right, my dear. We should try.“

„Excellent. In this case I would like to excuse myself. There is still a school to run“, Albus said with a smile.

„___, I am afraid I must take my leave. Molly and Arthur will get you settled in. You will meet your host in the morning. I am afraid he is …passed out.“ Albus stood there and smiled down at you. You had been chatting with Remus and Tonks about different types of spells and were so into the conversation, that you almost didn´t realize that the sun must be coming up soon. „Oh, I see. Good. Although I still don´t know what exactly I am doing here. How am I supposed to help?“ you asked. A bit worried you looked around the other faces. „No worries, dear. We will find something for you to be helpful with around the house for now.“ Molly gave you a sweet smile which you returned. You were absolutely sure that this woman must be a mother. You felt warm in her presence. Albus clapped his hands and smiled around. „Now that this is settled ,___I wish you a very good first night here. I will be back as soon as I can. Goodbye“.

 „Thank you, Sir.“ You simply said. But what your eyes told Albus with just one glance was the exact deeper meaning of those words. He nodded his head and ascended the stairs.

„Now, my sweet. I guess you must be very tired. How about I lay you off the Firewhiskey and make sure you have a place to sleep. We have been cleaning a lot more rooms than we normally would have done but it seems, we will be quite a number of people for Christmas, so we really had no other choice. I will make sure one of the rooms is ready for you. Remus, why don´t you show ___ the upper floors until I am done?“.

With these words Molly scampered off, followed by a yawning Arthur who winked at you before following his wife. You were pretty sure at that point. Those two seemed too familiar with each other to be anything else. You might have had two or three shots with Tonks when they were talking to Albus, but your eyes were wondering through the kitchen anyways. So many strange things to see. But what you noticed the most, was the clear absence of electricity. Remus snapped you out of your thoughts.

„I guess we don´t have that much time before your room is ready. Why don´t I show you the library before we go to bed?“ He rose from his seat. For a slight moment you could see that there where scars even adorning his forearms. You wondered what happened to him. Tonks, rolling her eyes at the mention of the library said „She is a Muggle, Remus. You could show her something more interesting than a library.“ „Actually“, you said quickly, „I like libraries. They are usually quiet and filled with wisdom and Fantasy. I am guessing the library of a wizard will be much more so. I would really like to see it“, you mentioned and turned to Remus who gave you a brilliant smile. „Well in that case, I´ll be off“, Tonks said. Giving you a very enthusiastic hug. „Moody will have my head if I am not paying attention at the meeting tomorrow.“ She squeezed your hand one last time, smiled a bit more timidly at Remus and vanished up the stairs.

„I like her“, you said with a giggle and turned to Remus.

“Yea”, was all he said but the way he said it, you could swear you heard a silent me too. You smiled to yourself. How interesting.

“Please, follow me”, he said and gestured to the stairs.

You walked back into the long hallway with the staircase and that sinking feeling returned to your stomach. You took the narrow staircase, now to your right to the first upper floor. Halfway up to the second you caught a glimpse of something odd on the wall. You stopped dead in your tracks. Eyes wide you stared at a Portrait of what seemed to be a torture scene. A bony wizard was standing above a small creature with long ears and nose. Wand pointing at the creature that seemed to scream it´s lungs out. With horror you looked at the scene before you and noticed why it had caught your attention in the first place. The creature at the wizards' feet was moving. It rolled from side to side, clutching the only type of ragged clothing it wore. All the while, the bony wizard was smiling away. A hand on your shoulder made you jump high in the air and with eyes as big as sauce plates you stared at Remus. He had a solemn look on his face.

“This house belonged to a Family that did not much care about others´ lives or believes. They thought of themselves as the elite. As better humans”, he said bitterly. His eyes switching to the portrait. Even though his words were cold, the hand that was still gently squeezing your shoulder was warm.

“So, what about the wizard that lives here now? Is he…”, Remus took his hand away from your shoulder and snickered.

“Oh, don´t you worry. You will find the last heir of the antient and noble house of Black to be anything but like his ancestors. He marvels in the thought that they would turn in their graves if they knew what kind of “filth” was living in their home at the moment.” He grinned down at you which made you feel a lot better about meeting the man actually. Remus seemed to know him quite well. So, Black was the Family name you supposed.

You arrived on the second landing where there was a big wooden door in the middle of the corridor. It was slightly ajar, and you could see the glimmer of a fire coming from the room. Remus pushed the door open and gestured you to walk in first. As you did, a surprised breath escaped your mouth. Now you knew, this house was definitely magical. The room you just entered was more like a hall. The Bookshelves along the walls where so high that the soft lights of the fire and various gas lamps could not illuminate their highest point. Before a big stone fireplace were several armchairs and a big sofa. Given all the furniture looked a bit ragged and definitely old, this room with its floor length windows next to the fireplace was almost homely. There where books strewn across the floor as well. Some of them were stacked in ways that normal physics would not be able to explain. Fascinated you turned your head left and right, all the while walking towards the armchairs. Remus followed you and noticed the empty bottle of Firewhiskey before you did. Next to a big leather armchair stood a small brass table. The bottle that Remus now grabbed, tipped over on top of it. With a questioning look you looked at the bottle and then at Remus, who´s forehead was in wrinkles. He looked at you almost apologetically.

“Nasty habit he has, ever since he came back to this house. It seems to be the only thing helping him sleep at night.” He sighed and with a flick of his wrist, the bottle vanished into thin air. Rather than be impressed at what you just saw, Remus was kind of delighted at your next question, even though it made his own heart a bit heavier. “What happened to him?” you asked with concern lacing your voice. Remus smiled at you. You were a Muggle who just learned that magic was real. It was all around you now, but you focused on your host. His wellbeing even, although you had not met him yet. Albus, Remus thought…you planned this out well.

“I am sorry, ___ but I am not the person you should ask. He will tell you once he trusts you. Let me just say that the last 14 years have been less than kind to the man. He has a good heart, brilliant mind actually, and he is the biggest man-child you will ever meet, believe me,” this made you chuckle. Remus continued with a bit less joy to his voice “But he is working through some problems at the moment and therefore can be a bit difficult to be around. But don´t worry”, he said with a reassuring smile. “I am sure you will have no problem getting to know him. He actually likes company, craves it even. I am sure you will do well.” He had an almost hopeful look in his eye. “You are friends.” You stated matter of factly. Remus nodded and escorted you back to the doors. “Have known the man for a long time” he said. When he closed the doors, you heard steps coming down the stairs from the third floor and Molly appeared above you. “___, dear. Your room is ready now.” You smiled at Remus and wished him a good night. He returned the smile with a nod and started walking along the corridor to his left. You assumed that is where his room was.

Following Molly up the steps she led you to a door which seemed to be right above the library. When you entered you were quite surprised. It was another room with high ceilings but not as dark as the other rooms you had seen so far. The walls where a pale green color and the window had some stained glass in it. There was a big four poster bed on one side of the room and a cupboard on the other. With not much space between the furniture it still didn´t look cramped. “It isn´t much but if you knew what it first looked like, huh”, Molly laughed and walked towards the end of the room. “There is a small bathroom right through here”, she pointed to the door. “And here, Tonks sent these shortly after she got home”, Molly handed you a package with some clothes in it. “There should be Pajamas in there as well”. You stared at the package and looked at Molly. “How did she…?”

“Oh, she noticed you came without any suitcases or even a bag, so she assumed you would need these”, she pointed at the clothes.

You smiled and took a closer look. They actually looked like they would fit just fine. “Thank you,” you mumbled not even wondering anymore how Tonks managed to send the package that quickly. Molly patted your cheek affectionally and said, “You get situated. I believe you must be exhausted. Sleep. And tomorrow I will wake you for lunch, breakfast is way too early. You can meet Sirius after that.” You whipped your head up. “Sirius?” you asked. Molly nodded and retreated to the door, turning one last time before closing the door. “Yes, Sirius is the owner of this house and one of the reasons Albus brought you here. Have a good night, deary”, she smiled and left.

You sat on the bed, Pajamas in hand and wondering how you ended up in this more than surreal situation. Surely it wasn´t a dream. Too much has happened for that to be the case. So, in conclusion, this must all be real. Your head was reeling with the possibilities of what you might witness next. Truthfully spoken, the house you were in gave you the jitters but the people currently inhabiting it seemed to be very nice and open about the idea of living with someone that didn´t know any magic. Was this common? Were there other non- magical folk out there who knew? You entered the small bathroom and saw that Molly had provided you with the essentials. You brushed your teeth and washed your face at the single standing sink in front of another stained-glass window before you put on the pajamas and crawled underneath the covers. You could see a faint light coming from the window. It was morning already. You didn´t think you would be able to sleep but as soon as your head hit the pillow your eyes began to get heavier and heavier. Your last thought before you drifted of was…. Sirius. Sirius Black, apparently. What a strange yet nice name. Never heard anything like it, you thought. You were looking forward to meeting this wizard. Hopefully he would not reject your help. Whatever that entitled.

You woke up to the sunlight streaming in through the still slightly dirty window. You blinked and rolled over in bed. As soon as you did, all what happened came flooding back and you bolted upright. You looked around. You were still in the baroque bedroom with the high ceilings. A grin spread onto your face. Magic was real. You jumped out of bed like a child on Christmas and rushed to brush your teeth and get dressed. The clothes Tonks sent actually fit you. You opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Now that it was day, you could see much more of the house. True, it was still a dingy, dark place but not as threatening as it seemed at night. Your stomach began to growl. Carefully, you made your way down the stairs, avoiding looking at the moving portrait from last night. It still made you a bit sick. When you reached the last steps and made your way to your left for the kitchen, your foot caught a heavy object and before you knew it you and the object tumbled to the floor with a loud crash. “Ouch”, you said trying to get up, but immediately your hands flew to your ears covering them. A loud shriek echoed through the whole house. “MAGGOTS, BLOODTRAITORS AND HALFBLOODS IN MY HOUSE!” You turned around and looked up to a huge portrait of a woman screeching and positively spitting while pointing at you. Her eyes were the coldest you had ever seen, mere slits with which she looked at you in utter disgust. You got up and looked around in a panic.

Suddenly you heard a door crash open and hurried footsteps coming from the other side of the corridor. “SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH YOU FOUL EVIL HAG!” Not even a second after that, a tall man with long black hair emerged the same moment Remus came thundering up the steps from the kitchen, pushing you aside. You watched as both men tried their best to cover the portrait with the heavy curtain that framed it. It must have been quite difficult as both of them were out of breath the moment the curtain closed, and a chilling silence erupted. “Merlin, Tonks, how many times have I told you to be more carefu-“, the black-haired man hissed as he turned around, stopping his sentence as soon as he saw you. You stared at him. This must be Sirius Black.

You did not know what you expected, but the man in front of you surely was not it. His long hair was a bit unkempt, strands of light silver already adorning the sides of his temples and a beard that made a great effort to hide his high cheekbones. His eyes shone in a cloudy silver color. They looked tired, sunken in, but something told you, this man had absolute control over all his senses right now. He looked at you with surprise and something else you could not pinpoint yet. Was it curiosity?

He nodded his head over to the right and you three entered another room. A study. You turned around to the two men when Sirius had closed the door and whispered, “I Ehm…I´m really sorry about that. I didn´t know this would happen”.

“No need to whisper, love. The old bat can´t hear us in here”, Sirius said with a frown towards the door. You immediately thought that this look didn´t suit him at all.

“´s alright. I guess nobody told you”, he said carefully with a look towards Remus.

“I am Sirius Black, the owner of this house. Although I am beginning to doubt that fact seeing as there is a guest I did not even know arrived”, he said with a mixture of amusement and mild accusation looking at Remus with raised eyebrows. That small smile almost made your heart skip a beat. His tone was careful but not at all hostile. His voice deep and a bit gravelly, as if he had just woken up. Remus lay a hand on your shoulder pushing you lightly forward towards Sirius saying, “This is ___. Albus brought her along last night. Apparently, she accidentally ran into two death eaters right before they started attacking Kingsley. Seeing as she wasn´t safe there anymore, he brought her here. He couldn´t be sure if the death eaters saw her or not.” Sirius looked at you. His eyes twinkling with interest.

“Well ___, you got lucky. That could have ended pretty badly.” Your name on his tongue almost made you sigh but you stopped yourself soon enough by answering.

“Yea well, I had no idea what was going on. I just duck behind a trash can. All these lights and explosions all around. First, I thought they were fireworks. And then this weirdly dressed old man, asking for a Mint….”, you shook your head with a laugh. “Strange night I tell you”. Sirius had started to smile while you were talking but soon after you ended your little monolog, he looked at you with an open mouth. His head turned to the side, making him look strangely like a dog listening to something. He came closer to you. You looked up at him with wide eyes. He was even more handsome up close. You could see the little lines around his grey eyes. “Are you…?”, he began hesitantly, and you answered with a bit of a miffed voice.

 “Yea, apparently I am a….Muddle?”

“Muggle”

 “Gesundheit”

With a barking laugh, Sirius threw his head back. You jumped a little at the sudden outburst but soon started laughing as well. It was contagious. “You hear that you old bat?!”, he spat towards the door, obviously talking to the portrait.

“There is A MUGGLE in the great and noble house of Black! Oh, darling you don’t know how much joy you just brought into these halls”, he cackled looking at you again with a wide grin on his lips. You noticed that he immediately looked younger by doing so. You liked that look on his face so much better than the frown he wore just seconds ago. Remus smirked and mouthed a Told you towards you. You felt your cheeks warm and smiled at him. Then, out of nowhere your stomach growled again with ferocity. Opening your mouth to apologize, Sirius combed his hand through his hair and looked at you sheepishly. “I am a terrible host am I not? Please, follow me to the kitchen”, he smiled and offered you his arm. You gaped at him for a second but started to walk towards him after a gentle nudge to your back from Remus. As you held onto Sirius´ arm, he opened the door and gave you a sign to hush. You were so perplexed with the non-forced chivalry that this man possessed, you almost did not realize how your own fingers passed your lips from left to right, signaling Sirius that you would not make a sound. You did feel the drop of your stomach though when he grinned down at you with such delight, you honestly wondered why you were ever worried about him being hostile.

Behind you, Remus stared at your backs in utter disbelief. He shook his head following you. He knew that you being a Muggle would delight Sirius immensely, seeing how much he hated the whole aura to the house and the people who used to live there. There was nothing Sirius would enjoy more than to piss off his ancestors. This little trick from Albus was surely a great way to distract Sirius from all the doom and gloom he radiated the past few weeks. Remus had not seen him in such a good mood since Molly announced that Christmas would take place at Sirius´ old home this year. He could see his old friend gaining back somewhat of his old wit almost week by week. But he had an encouraging feeling that you might manage to make his stay here actually bearable.   

You arrived in the kitchen a few moments later. Still holding on to Sirius´ arm. He smelled good. Like firewood, cigarettes and something slightly sweet. Earthy and utterly unique. Your fingers touching him where tingling even though you were only touching his clothes. He wore a burgundy linen shirt with a deep neckline, some black trousers and a knee length walking coat of black patterned velvet. Anywhere else in the world these clothes belonged in a theatre but when he wore it in this house, you did not question it for a minute. The elegant clothes however did not quite match with the slight rugged appearance of the man wearing them. They also made quite a contrast to the tattoos he had. You noticed some on his long fingers and one that seemed to peak out of the shirt. A weird feeling of wanting to take a much closer look at that one overcame you.

In the kitchen stood Molly, rummaging around with some pots and pans. Your guess from last night was correct. The kitchen was far brighter than the rest of the house thanks to the windows. It was a simple kitchen, clearly as there were no electronics whatsoever. It seemed like a kitchen from a cottage in the middle of nowhere. “Good morning, Molly, my dear”, Sirius bellowed and snickered when Molly shot up with a screech and whipped around. She halted what she was doing and stared at the picture in front of her. A mischievous grinning Sirius and you still holding on to his arm looking at her apologetically. “Merlin, Sirius. I was not expecting you to be up yet”, she said in a dignified tone. “Yea, well”, he drawled and led you over to the far end of the long table. You let go of his arm and he pulled out a chair for you. Still bewildered, you sat down making eye contact with Molly who looked just as surprised. Though she caught herself quicker than you. With a sweet smile she asked “Did you sleep well,___? I was about to cook just now and come get you after”.

“I slept really well actually. Thank you for preparing such a nice room.” Sitting down next to you at the head of the table Sirius scoffed.

 “Nice room? There´s no need for flattery, love. This house is about as welcoming as pit full of blastended scroots.”

“Blastended what now?”, you asked completely confused. “It might not be very welcoming looking, but I assure you Mr. Black, I know it is not the interieur that makes a home a home. It´s the people that live there. The home I had couldn´t be called that either.” You looked at him with a reassuring smile.

Sirius was in a turmoil. He looked at this woman who had just made him feel better about living in this second hellhole that was prepared for him. It did not even seem like she made an effort for that. He only knew her for a couple of minutes. Yet, his brain screamed at him to not let this woman leave earlier than she probably must. But on the other hand, hadn´t Remus said that Dumbledore brought her here for her own safety? He almost didn´t want to hope that that would mean he wouldn´t be alone most of the time. Her being a Muggle surely complicated things but for him, it was a joy as well. His thoughts spiraled left and right as he was trying to figure out what to feel. Joy, satisfaction, curiosity, doubt…Would Dumbledore really let her stay? Would she want to?

On the other side of the kitchen, Molly listened to your words and almost immediately had to swallow a lump that was caught in her throat. Somehow you managed to delight and even encourage one of the most emotionally scarred men there were. Molly understood Sirius´ mood swings, though she did not encourage them. And here you were, knowing nothing about the man, his world or what had occurred and still, innocently you said exactly what needed to be said.

Molly hoped dearly, that once you saw Sirius´ other side or learned what had happened, that you would still decide to stay.

Sirius´ scrunched up his nose. “Darling, I am afraid I must insist you call me Sirius. Mr. Black sounds incredibly old and frankly, I am not.” He said in a teasing manner leaning a bit towards you with his elbows on the table. You grinned at him. You liked his boyish charm though you bet that there was nothing else remotely “boyish” about this man.

“Careful ____, if you are being too nice to him, he will follow you around like a dog. Isn´t that right, Padfoot?”, Remus emerged from the stairwell and entered the kitchen with a bemused look on his face. Sirius laughed again, that glorious barking laugh that made your belly twist with glee. Remus sat down right across from you and relaxed against the chair.

“Padfoot?”, you asked curiously looking from a grinning Sirius to a somehow smug looking Remus. “It´s my nickname from school”, Sirius said with a playful eyeroll. “This one”, he pointed at Remus, “is Moony. And I suggest you be on your toes with this one, darling. He can be a bit…skittish once in a while, isn´t that right, Moony?” He repeated and winked at Remus who´s own turn it was to roll his eyes. “But truth be told”, he continued leaning back in his seat and drumming his fingers on the table lightly, “the dog part might not be very farfetched.” He looked at you intensly and you were trying your best to hold of a blush. You smiled, looking at the suddenly very interesting tabletop. “Wouldn´t be too bad”, you shrugged. “I like dogs”, you stated simply.

A loud, exasperated sigh from Remus snapped your head up and not a second later Sirius´ head had met the table in an overly dramatic fashion. “Did you hear that, Moony?”, he asked a bit too loudly. “She likes dooogs!”, now whisper yelling this information to his friend, stretching the word dogs. You started laughing at their behavior.

“Yes, Sirius. I heard her”, Remus said with a bored voice. “You really need to stop stroking his ego so much,____. His head is big enough as it is.” You looked at him questioningly.

“How is me liking dogs stroking his ego?”, you asked and pointed at Sirius who in the meantime had come up from the table and looked at you dreamily with his chin in his palm. “All in due time, my dear. We don´t want to overwhelm you”, he said. “Overwhelm me? How….?”, you began but immediately closed your mouth when you saw plates and cutlery hovering over the table, settling neatly in front of Sirius, Remus and you. Your eyes shot towards Molly who, with a wink and an elegant twist with her wand sent steaming pots and pans from the stove across the table, setting them in front of you. You didn´t dare even move. All those things just floated through the air so effortlessly. You thought moving a single muscle would burst the bubble and everything would vanish.

Sirius was eyeing you from the side, nervous you would be spooked. But all he saw was your mouth opening, closing, opening again and then a huge smile spreading across your face. He let go of the breath he was holding and when you looked at him like an excited child, he felt his insides twist in a very strange manner. Merlin, it had been quite a while since he felt that.

“What else can you do?” You asked excitedly and almost bounced around on your chair. Remus looked at you warmly and said “Pretty much anything you can imagine. We will show you, no worries. But how about we eat first? Molly is an excellent cook.”

And she was. You were absolutely sure that it had nothing to do with you being hungry, but with the fact that this food was made with magic, that made a simple lunch taste so incredibly good. When all the plates where cleared you wanted to help do the dishes, but Molly just laughed, thanked you kindly and flicked her wand again. Absolutely fascinated you watched as the dishes flew to the sink and well, washed themselves. You really wanted to stay and watch more magic, but Sirius appeared behind you whispering, “Dirty dishes are not half as exciting as what we could show you in the library.” It was not the prospect of witnessing more magic that let the hair on your arms and neck stand at attention. Not this time at least. If that man continued to come closer each time you spoke, you knew you would be in trouble.

As Molly excused herself, Sirius, Remus and you made your way to the library. The enormous room had lost a bit of its coziness as cold daylight illuminated the bookshelves. But at least now, you could actually read some of the book titles. They were fascinating to you. Old leather-bound books with gold lettering read titles like “Old wizards of old”, “Gnomes and fairies of old Scotland”, “The witch hunt of Salem and why it was useless”, “How to raise a dragon”, “Poisonous potions for advanced Witches” and more. Completely enamored, you picked up a book from a very wobbly stack, read the title and held it up for Sirius to see, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Ah, yes”, he said a bit bashful. The title read “Muggles in their natural habitat”.

“My parents had a bit of a sick sense of humor. Most of the books in here are related to dark magic and how important it apparently is to be of pure blood. They used to read paragraphs of this book at parties for entertainment.” You could hear the disgust in his voice. The look he gave you was uncertain, as if he was afraid this information would repel you to the point of wanting to leave. “Charming, your parents”, you said laying the book back onto the stack carefully. Though something told you that the wobbly stack would probably not tip over. Still sensing the uncertainty from him you tried to ease his mind. “Well, thank the heavens you turned out to be their sol opposite.” The emphasis you put into your words, combined with the lightness of your tone warmed Sirius´ heart to the point where he could feel his chest swell with pride. Both for what you had pointed out and for you. It seems Muggles indeed are capable of Magic, he thought. They have their very own. He had to be careful. He was already fascinated by you. If he started to care for you as well…

“I have a better book to show you, love”, he said softly. You followed him close to the fireplace. Remus was already standing there, reading. Sirius picked up a heavy book and gave it to you. “Magical creatures and where to find them” by “Newt Scamander?”, you read out loud with a chuckle. “You wizards sure have interesting names”, you smiled up at Sirius. He returned the smile and sat next to you when you opened the book curiously on the couch. 

While turning page by page your eyes went wider and wider. Sirius watched with happiness in his heart how you mouthed words like “Hinkypunks”, “merfolk” and “Cornish pixies”. “This was one of the books we had to get for school”, he said. “You went to a school for wizards?”, you asked quickly. He grinned and winked at you. You sighed. “Of course, you did,” you said with a nod. You hesitated for a moment. “How was it like?”, you asked. Sirius and Remus looked at each other. Fondness and sorrow etched onto their faces at the same time. “Well,___. Let us tell you a little story”.

It turned out the story was not so little. You spent the next hours listening to Sirius and Remus talking and explaining the Hogwarts houses, the sorting, the castle grounds and a little about the Marauders so far. Only briefly interrupted by Molly bringing you Sandwiches and some tea. In the end, it was very late. Remus had excused himself to his bedroom the minute Sirius started the story about how he and James tried to eat one sample of every candy there was at a store called Honeydukes, a sweets shop close to the castle where they had lived. Apparently, it did not go well.

“By the time we came to the sugar quills, James had already hurled up into a flowerpot in the common room”, Sirius said with a hearty laugh. He still sat next to you on the couch, but you were both facing each other. One knee propped onto the couch and one arm stretched out on the back of it, he didn´t quite reach you. His fingertips were only inches away from your elbow though, which you had on the back of the couch, legs tugged underneath you. Sirius looked relaxed, but now as he mentioned his friend and Remus absent, a sudden dark cloud befell his grey orbs. His head hung low, and he was not looking at you. He looked like a beaten dog. You didn´t yet know what happened exactly, but you could feel the finality of death hanging in the air like a heavy curtain.

You didn´t know Sirius well enough to know if it was ok for you to touch him, so you didn´t. You wanted to. He looked miserable. The urge to envelop him in a hug to try and sooth his aching was almost overwhelming.

“Tell me a bit more about dragons”, you said instead. “I still can´t believe those are real.” You hoped that a change of subject would help Sirius back to the less depressing present. He raised his head and with a bit more cheerful voice said, “Nasty buggers. You would do well never to meet one”. The darkness that had him in its grip only seconds before, seemed to disappear little by little. You tried your best to stifle a yawn with the back of your hand not wanting to seem bored, but Sirius just grinned at you and got up from the couch.

“As much as I enjoy this, I guess it is time for bed. Don´t want you too tired when you have to listen to my babbling”. He held out his hand. Your heart began beating harder against your ribs. You had a feeling you knew what would happen when you actually touched him. Before too much time passed to make the situation awkward, you gave him your hand and he pulled you upright. Your suspicions were right. An incredible warmth spread through your fingers and up your arm the moment you touched. It felt like the blood in your veins was rushing to your heart so it wouldn´t stop. You knew hiding your red cheeks and neck was futile, so you got a little brave. As he slowly, maybe unnecessarily slowly lowered your hand, you looked him directly in the eyes. He returned your gaze with friendly eyes and a small smile. Maybe you stood there a tad too long. When Sirius cleared his throat and broke the eye contact you took a quick breath, only now realizing that you hadn´t breathed through the encounter.

Quietly you made your way out of the library. Fortunately, strangely the situation didn´t feel awkward at all. It was a comfortable silence until Sirius closed the door behind him and you turned around. “My bedroom is upstairs”, you said pointing to the ceiling with your thumb. Sirius nodded and a little hesitantly asked “May I accompany you there?” You couldn´t help the grin that creped onto your face while you nodded your head quickly. Sirius found the gesture incredibly endearing. And for the second time, he offered you his arm with a slight bow. “Are all wizards this chivalrous?”, you asked teasingly as you ascended the stairs. You eyed him from the side and saw a huge grin on his face. Only now you noticed that his canines where a bit pointier than was normal. “I highly doubt it”, he snorted and looked at you amused. “You forget young Lady, I was raised by aristocrats”, he said mischievously as you reached the landing in front of your bedroom door. “Spiteful ones, yes. But aristocrats none the less. I am not a heathen” he ended facing you in front of your door. You looked at him with a look of oh, really? He understood and barked a laugh before continuing.

“Though I must say, I probably look like one. I clean up nicely, I promise”, he said looking down on himself. With one hand on the door handle, you tried your best not to act too enthusiastic.

“I will not comment on that. Remus said I am not supposed to stroke your ego”, you said with fake innocence. Sirius halted for a second and then as if in defeat, sighed with a laugh and shook his head. Before you knew what happened, he approached you, took your hand in his and kissed the back of it with a bow and closed eyes. The world had stopped turning, you were sure of it. “Good night,___”, he said lowly and took a step back. You pressed the hand he just kissed to your chest, opening the door and retreating into the room. “Good night, Sirius”, you whispered, holding his eyes until the very last moment until you softly shut the door. Heart hammering in your chest you swore you could still feel his lips on your hand. Soft and light, a hint of a scratch from his beard. Just like that, you wanted to know more, no everything about him. Just like that, you were happy to be in this dark, probably moth infested house. You didn´t even realize while washing up and getting into bed, that you had not stopped smiling.

Sirius watched your closed door for another second or two before descending the stairs again to his room. He had tried the whole evening not to be too bewitched by your laughs, your undivided attention and your obvious delight in magical creatures. He knew exactly why Dumbledore had brought you to him and first he was delighted by the thought of not having to be alone most of the time. But now, doubts about the whole situation invaded his brain like a constant ringing.

Back in his room he sat on his bed and stared at the old Muggle posters of Bands he used to listen to and had fixed on the wall with a permanent sticking charm. It wasn´t fair to you. Being held in this dump, full of dark magic and memories, he honestly asked himself why you haven´t left yet. You could, he could not. He was fairly certain that when the time came and you found out about what he had done, why he was a prisoner in his own house, you would surely run. The thought alone already made his stomach sink almost in panic. Selfish prick, he thought. She doesn´t deserve to be here in this hellhole and here you are hoping she would stay.

With a loud groan he threw himself backwards onto the bed and tried to get his thoughts together. As selfish as he was, you were probably just as selfless. Was there a chance to make you care for him enough so when the truth came out, you would stay out of your own free will? If yes, he was willing to make your days as bright as possible. Starting with himself.

With newfound determination, he stood up and walked to his dresser. Rummaging around for a second, he found what he was looking for and stepped into his bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. Shaking his head at his own appearance he prepared the scissors and razor. It was about time he cleaned up. If he wanted you to stay, maybe even care for him, he needed to get his act together. At least a little bit. Merlin, mate you look like shit, he thought to himself. Well of course, idiot. Where did you spend the last 14 years of your life? At least make yourself decently presentable as her host.

He trimmed his beard and cut the tangled ends of his hair and a bit more. Wondering if Molly would use a dyeing charm on the grey spots around his chin, he washed his face and looked in the mirror again. Not half bad, he thought. Surely not his 22-year-old self but what did he expect? At least he wasn´t the skeleton from two years back anymore, mere skin and bones with dark shadows under his eyes and horrible teeth. Mollys care in the last months had worked wonders. In the process of “fattening him up a bit” as she sweetly put it, she made sure he ate at least one warm meal a day and fixed his teeth. But there were still slight shadows under his eyes. They however, he noticed, shone with a new kind of hope. They hadn´t changed much. Taking a deep breath, he took his clothes off and took a shower. Indeed, he didn´t look as bad as he did two years ago. Lathering his body with soap he remembered how he could see all of his ribs. Now, best he could describe it was lean. Though he did start to slowly fill out his arms and chest again. He briefly wondered if you would like his tattoos as he stepped out the shower, threw on a fresh pair of underwear and got into bed. Lying there he couldn´t fight the warm feeling in his belly any longer and with a smile he slipped into his dreams. Remembering the softness of your hand that had touched his lips briefly. Unbeknownst to him, the very same smile adorned your features while you slept.

__________________________________________________________

Thank you so much for reading. Let me know how you liked it. There are more chapters coming. I just need to proofread them before posting :)

[ykwrites]

Never with you

Pairings: Pro! Hero Bakugo x fem!reader

Rating: SFW

Warnings: None

Requests: OPEN.

Summary: Katsuki and y/n have been neighbours and ‘’kind of’’ friendly for a few months until some feelings get in the way. Neither of them want to admit how they feel, so they start bickering and arguing every chance they get to hide their true feelings.

MASTERLIST

Another day, another time Bakugo Katsuki thought that because he was a hero he could do whatever he wanted without consequences. 

Tonight the so called Dynamight decided to throw a party, on a fucking monday and no one was brave enough to go and tell him to keep it down.

The rest of the building was scared of him, not you tho.

As you walked down the hall towards his apartment door, you cursed in between your teeth, pyjamas on and a sudden urge to punch him in the face. If he didn´t stop the noise, you would only sleep about four hours before having to wake up for work.

You knocked loudly, waiting for someone to open. It took about two minutes and a lot of noise coming from inside. 

Finally, a guy with fiery red hair opened and looked at you with a shy and scared smile as soon as he saw your annoyed face. 

‘‘Would you please shut the hell up?, It´s four in the morning’‘you said, not even bothering to introduce yourself.

‘‘Oh no! sure, we will, I´m so sorry’‘the poor kid apologized waving his hands nervously.

‘‘Can Bakugo come to the door?’‘

‘‘I´ll go get him’‘

Before you could blink he was gone and a clearly intoxicated and angry Bakugo stood in front of you, crossing his arms in a condescending manner.

The noise quieted down a bit, probably because red hair kid decided to turn off the music and tell the others to lower their voices.

‘’What do you want?’’Bakugo practically barked, like a guard dog wanting you to leave.

‘’Don´t pull this shit ever again, throw parties on the weekends, not now!’’you shot back.

‘’Look, ugly, heroes don´t have weekends, so I throw parties whenever I want, in return I save the normal people like you’’

‘’No, in return I barely sleep, people have jobs too’’

‘‘Tsk, whatever’‘

Just like that, door slammed on your face once again. He did the same thing every time, holding a conversation with him was nearly impossible. 

Instead of continuing with the argument, you decided to go back home and try to sleep now that the stupid party ended. 

It baffled you to remember how at first you two started on the right foot, he was the first neighbour you spoke with when you moved and even helped you with moving boxes. The first month or so you used to say hi now and then, sometimes stopping for coffee to vent about whatever. You wouldn´t consider Bakugo your friend then, but he was nice to be around, stubborn and permanently kind of angry but nice after all. The little chatters helped you both decompress from daily life without having to worry about being judged.

The exchange between you two didn´t last long though, and sometimes it made you a bit sad, because even if you weren´t that close, you were hopeful to see him and spend a few minutes with him. A crush on him grew but faded away when Bakugo started being rude .

First, he stopped greeting you back in the hallway or elevator, then he would make stupid remarks just to be annoying and complained about everything to the point of screaming just because you forgot your EMPTY clothes basket on the building´s shared laundry room. He would bang on your door and trow the basket inside as soon as you opened, screaming about how irresponsible you were.

Instead of not responding or ignoring him, you decided to be just as rude back. The opposite would’ve probably been more peaceful, but there was no way you would let him step all over you.

Next day after the party was a nightmare, you managed to do everything you needed but almost fell asleep a couple times, growing frustrated from the lack of sleep.

When you got to your building´s elevator, your whole body trembled, so tired that you almost forgot to press the button. 

‘‘What´s up, ugly?, why the angry face?’‘a mocking voice echoed around.

Of course he had to be the first neighbour you saw as soon as you stepped on your floor. 

‘‘Leave me alone’‘you muttered under your breath, passing by him like a zombie.

‘‘No need to be so rude, it was only a little party’‘

‘‘Shut the fuck up, Bak....

Everything went black, you were supposed to respond, but destiny didn’t work that way.

Not much time later, or so you thought, a faint light started bothering you, making you squeeze your eyes uncomfortably.

What the hell happened?

Finally you opened your eyes, your head hurt and you recognized your surroundings just fine.

Bakugo’s apartment, his couch exactly.

“Finally, you are awake”his annoying voice sounded behind you.

“What happened?”rubbing your temples, you tried to get up but he pushed you back down with force.

“You fainted, wait a few minutes before standing up or It’ll happen again”Bakugo explained, leaving a glass of water on his coffee table and sitting on the couch right after.

He was close to your feet but that couch was so enormous your bodies didn’t have to touch at all.

“How long was I passed out?”

“About an hour, you woke up for a few seconds and then fell dead asleep”

“My head hurts”

“Thank me that I didn’t let you hit the floor earlier”

“Yeah, whatever, thank you”

Silence, a very weird and regrettable one because you couldn’t help but compare this situation with the ones you lived with him before. A few months ago this would’ve been much better, nice.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you?”Bakugo asked.

“Nothing, I guess”you kinda lied.

Obviously the problem was that you didn’t sleep at all and work had been really demanding for a couple weeks, your body was going to fail sooner or later.

“Yeah”he huffed “because passing out in a hallway is so normal, means you are healthy”a sarcastic tone flooded his voice.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t, I’m just curious”

“I’m exhausted, that’s all. Maybe it has something to do with you throwing a party on a fucking monday night”

“You NEED to rub it in my face”

“Well, it’s the truth”

“Well, I saved you now so we’re even”

You knew this bickering would continue, deciding on not responding at all and finally getting up to leave and feeling a bit dizzy.

“Careful, ugly”he said, standing up fast and holding your arm.

Reluctantly you sat down, maybe waiting a little wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Your phone has been ringing the whole time, you should block that number”Bakugo scoffed, taking your phone out of his pocket.

“Why do you have it?”

“It fell on the floor earlier, I just made sure it didn’t get stolen”he angrily explained “another thing you should thank me for”

“Whatever”

5 missed calls from Shoto. He probably was worried because you only sent him a good morning text saying you were tired and went completely silent after that.

Shoto was a good friend of yours, a fairly new friend but one that got invested in your life very fast and worried about your well-being constantly. Something about him losing people before so he got very attached to his friends.

You decided it was best to text him that everything was okay and you would call him later.

“Creepy”Bakugo mumbled lowly.

“What?”you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“The dude is obsessed with you or something”

“You don’t know him, shut up”

“Come on!, I went to school with that guy, trust me he isn’t all that amazing”

He what? Since when? And why didn’t you know that? Of course Bakugo wouldn’t tell you but Shoto never mentioned knowing him at all, weird considering he told you about other classmates and friends.

“He has never spoken about you”you spoke, doubting his words.

“We weren’t friends so who cares”he crossed his arms.

“But we’ve come across you on the hallway a few times and you’ve never greeted each other”

“I could care less, I’m just stating the fact that he is obsessed with you”

“He is my friend” this was so frustrating “and it’s none of your business”

“Open your eyes, ugly, he called five times in an hour”

“You know what?, I am leaving” you stood up.

Clearly Bakugo only wanted to pick a fight and you weren’t in the mood, so leaving was the best option.

Right when you closed his apartment door you heard him yell ‘you’re welcome!’ in his usual condescending and annoying tone.

What the hell was his problem with Shoto? Maybe they had some feud during highschool but that wasn’t your problem now.

A much needed shower cleared your head and you got ready for bed while speaking to Shoto on the phone, problem is you made a mistake telling him that you fainted because he ran to your door as soon as he heard to take you to the doctor.

“I’m okay”you said for the tenth time, now sitting in the passenger seat of Shoto’s fancy car.

“It won’t hurt to make sure you really are okay”he also repeated himself “my family has private doctors so they can check on you quickly”

“I get it, you’re rich”you joked.

“I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable”

“You know I don’t care”

Obviously the doctor was already waiting for you in his fancy office and started checking everything he thought was necessary with Shoto sitting right beside you.

“Everything seems to be alright, but you need to stay home for a few days, I’ll write you a note and prescription for your medicine, that’ll help”the doctor spoke after doing a blood test and a few more things you didn’t pay attention to.

“Really? Isn’t it too much? I just passed out from lack of sleep”

“Passing out was the first sign of your body telling you it’s exhausted, please take what I said into consideration if you want to be able to go back to work normally. If not get ready to faint way more from now on”

“She’ll do everything she needs to recover, thank you, doctor” Shoto politely replied for you and held your arm to get out.

The car ride back was silent, not uncomfortable or anything just silent except for a quick stop at the pharmacy and then back home again.

When you got back Shoto went upstairs with you and waited until you had taken the medicine and got in bed.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay?”he asked.

“I’ll be fine” you reassured him.

“Okay, I already made the doctor notify your boss, so focus on resting”

Rich people things I guess.

“Thank you, I promise to call you if I die”

“Please call before dying, I don’t want you to come tell me as a ghost”he laughed.

“Okay”

It took him like ten more minutes before you heard your door closing, finally letting yourself relax and melting into your mattress.

This was glory, now every muscle felt less stiff and your head stopped hurting.

What a good night sleep, the first after a long time. It felt good to turn off you alarm and stay in bed enjoying the calm and free time.

Not for long tho, someone decided to ring the doorbell like thirty times in two minutes and you had to wake up. That someone being Bakugo, that stood with a green plastic bag in his hands, surprisingly quiet and with a gentler gaze than usual.

“Can I come in?”He said.

You nodded letting him in, confused about his demeanor but not interested enough to investigate.

“I brought you some food, and a thing my mum used to make me drink when I was sick, tastes like hell but gives you mad energy”Bakugo quietly explained, putting the bag on your coffee table.

He was bringing you food and remedies?, was he okay?

This situation was uncomfortable, even more than yesterday’s. This wasn’t the normal Bakugo.

“Thank you”you finally spoke, not really sure on what to do “Do you want coffee or something?”

“Yeah, coffee”

“Good”

You made your way into the kitchen, thinking that this didn’t have to be so weird, it wasn’t the first time he had come over for coffee and if he wasn’t defensive an rude you didn’t have to be either.

“There, this one is yours”you said, putting a mug in front of him.

Bakugo just nodded and took a small sip, observing you sit next to him.

The room grew silent, both of you too invested in drinking your coffee without starting conversation.

“I wanted to say sorry for the party the other day”he suddenly spoke.

Him apologizing?that was new.

“Just, be mindful of others next time”

“Are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah”

“Shoto told me you were sick”

“You two spoke?”surprise was present in your voice.

You didn’t expect them to talk at all.

“He knocked on my door yesterday”he explanied.

‘‘And how did that go?’‘

‘‘Horrible’‘

‘‘Yeah, he can get protective sometimes’‘

‘‘I know that, I know him’‘

‘‘Okay then... good you two could talk I guess’‘

Really, what did he expect you to say? he apologized already, there wasn´t much more to say.

Having him there you were realizing how rude things had gotten between you two and how he started it without reason and now he somehow tried to act like nothing happened. 

‘‘I think it´s better if you go home’‘ words came out of you without warning.

‘‘Why?’‘he responded, his agressive tone coming back in a heartbeat. 

‘‘You’ve been an asshole for months, I appreciate your apology but I’m not comfortable with you here’‘

Honestly, you surprised yourself being able to express that, but you were right. 

‘‘You should listen to me first!’‘Bakugo suddenly raised his voice, making you jump back and get even angrier. 

‘‘Who the fuck do you think you are? I don´t HAVE to listen to you!’’you shouted back. 

‘‘You were an asshole too!’‘

‘‘I was just reacting back at how you treated me!’‘

The whole neighbourhood was probably thinking of calling the police right now, because this conversation got out of hand real quick.

Now both of you stood up and in each others’ faces, him towering over you with his big bulky body and you looking up at him without an ounce of fear in your eyes. 

‘‘And I was just mad at you ignoring me!’‘Bakugo continued.

‘‘Excuse me? I’m not the one who stopped greeting you in the hallway’‘

‘‘But you stopped hanging out with me as soon as you met Shoto!’‘

‘‘What? Now I can´t have friends?’‘

‘‘Of course you can! don´t twist my fucking words’‘

‘‘Oh no, excuse me mr. Bakugo, I will only hang out with you for now on, how dare I socialize’‘

‘‘You know I don´t mean that’‘he sat back down, visibly frustrated and with his head between his hands. 

‘‘Look, what I see is that we weren´t even that close and even though I enjoyed your company very much, I wasn´t going to put up with that attitude’‘

‘‘What attitude?’‘his voice was lower now. 

‘‘You know, throwing my clothes basket at me, being incredibly rude and lashing out every chance you got....’‘

‘‘You can´t leave the basket downstaits, someone will steal it’‘

‘‘And you couldn’t tell me that like a normal person’‘

‘‘I wanted to help and I didn´t know how to talk to you anymore’‘

‘‘Whatever’‘

‘‘You always say that’‘

‘‘What?’‘

‘‘Whatever, like you don´t care at all’‘

‘‘What do you expect me to say, Bakugo?, honestly I don´t know why you came here today’‘

‘‘I want you to say you care, I want you to want to spend some time with me, I want you to keep insulting me if I deserve it , I want to take you out sometime and to...

‘‘You what?’‘you interrupted him, stunned at what he just said. 

‘‘It doesn´t matter, I know I get agressive when I can´t express myself, but that doesn´t give me the right to treat you badly, or expect you to return my feelings’‘

Of all the things you imagined, this was the furthest on your mind, for some reason Bakugo having feelings for you never seemed possible. 

You felt your face get increasingly hotter and your heart pound with force as you looked at him too surprised to speak. He still had his head down, probably embarrassed. 

Now everything made more sense, he felt insecure about Shoto and unable to express himself how he should so instead he started lashing out. 

‘‘I´ll leave now if you want me to’‘Bakugo spoke, even quieter than before. 

‘‘Look at me’‘you managed to say and he complied, face as red as yours ‘’I am mad at you’’

‘‘I know, I´m sorry’‘

‘‘You should have told me how you felt’’

‘‘Whould that change anything?’‘

‘‘Yeah, I would’ve returned your feelings’‘

Now he was the one too stunned to speak, but your heart was acting on its own.

‘‘What about now?’‘you saw him almost choke on his own words. 

‘‘What do you mean?’‘

‘‘Do you return my feelings now?’‘

‘‘I guess, maybe I got so angry at you being rude because I like you’‘

Bakugo turned to look away quick, hiding his reaction.

‘‘You don´t like Shoto?’‘

‘‘No, why are you so fixated on him?’‘

‘‘He is good, and has a rich family’‘

‘‘And?’‘

‘‘He’s not angry all the time’‘

‘‘I happen to be into dudes with anger issues’’you jokingly said. 

‘‘I can cook too’‘he finally let out a laugh and looked back at you.

‘‘That sounds even better’‘

‘‘I am sorry for being an asshole’‘his eyes turned soft. 

‘‘I forgive you, don´t do it again tho’‘you smiled, taking his hand in between yours

‘‘I wont’‘he smiled back.

‘‘Good’‘

‘‘Good, do you want to come over for lunch?I´ll cook’‘

‘‘You are inviting me to your house on the first date? bold’‘you got a little closer to him, slowly.

‘‘Only if you want to, I make some bomb pasta’’he responded, looking at your lips.

‘‘I guess I have to go then’‘

Bakugo didn´t utter a word, instead he crashed your lips softly causing butterflies to roam in your stomach and a rush go through your body. His lips were so nice and velvety, nicer than you could imagine. The kiss turned heated eventually, breathing heavy and hot as he placed a hand on your neck to pull you closer, not agressive at all but romantic and needy.

‘‘Maybe we could skip lunch’‘you said without a better choice of words. 

‘‘You need to eat to recover, we’ll do whatever you want after lunch’‘he laughed, his thumb tracing circles on your leg. 

‘‘I´ll fight you after lunch’‘

‘‘Like I said’‘he got dangerously close to your neck and left a small kiss’‘ Whatever you want’‘

[phant0mgh0ulx]

The Servant | part 2

If u dont like this kind of fanfiction, you are under 18 or a minor pls dont read it and block me but dont report this/ dont copy my work!!

•Pairing: fem!reader x Hongjoong, fem!reader x Wooyoung

•Genre: smut, angst, prince au, prince!Hongjoong, dom!hongjoong, sub!reader, servant! Wooyoung, sub!reader

•Warnings: jealousy, angst, blood! smut! degradation, dirty talk/cursing, unprotected sex, oral sex [m receiving/f receiving], breeding kink(?), handcuffs, chocking, petnames {doll, slut, whore}, cum play, overstimulation,

•Words: 1.9k

•Summary: Hongjoong and y/n have been a lucky couple and ruled the kingdom together. Hongjoong is a very kind and charmant prince and y/n is a pretty and beautiful princess. They knew each other since they were kids and got married at the age of 21 and 17 and had a wonderful life together until the day their servant Jung Wooyoung came to the castle. He started to grow feelings for y/n. He planed something bad to ruin the love story between Hongjoong and y/n to get along with her...

•Throwback: "Hm do you like it? already so wet for me and i`m your servant...what a slut you are, clenching for another man than your husband" he smirked again and you closed your eyes, euphoria running down your veins and the next thing what you heard was the door from your bedroom that slammed open. It was your Husband Hongjoong standing there gazing at you too. "What the hell are you doing there?"...

Hongjoong walked in the room „ Y/n what ́s going on here? Why is the servant between your naked legs huh? Please tell me i wanna know? Wooyoung?” You saw jealousy and sadness in his face but also fury. Wooyoung stood up and tried to escape but the prince catched him. „What the fuck are you doing with my wife?? You little bastard tricked me to leave you alone with y/n. What the hell is going on in your head huh“ shooked you looked to Hongjoong who held his servant by the collar and almost wanted to hit him. „Stop Hongjoong please don ́t hit him...it ́s also my fault!“ you confessed. „Please y/n leave the room..i have to punish this little asshole and after that it ́s your turn“ he uncuffed you.

You left the room and walked down the hallway in another room to wait there for your Husband, your body was shaking and suddenly you heard screams from your bedroom. „AAHHHHHH STOP!!“ Wooyoung screamed, blood running down his face after Hongjoong hit him right on his nose. „Firstly you tricked me! All the letters you gave me were fake. I had to leave my lovely wife for this bullshit and it was a big embarrassment for me, standing infront of the prince from London begging that he won ́t start a war with us and then it turned out that he knew nothing about it.“ A second punch hit his face. „AHHH SHIT..pls stop it“ Wooyoung spat out blood that ran into his mouth. „Second you bastard tried to fuck y/n in our bed! What are you allowing yourself huh?“ The servant grinned and started laughing „It ́s not my fault that Mr. Kim is a dumb little prince and didn ́t you see that y/n liked it?“ Hongjoong ́s head went red with anger and a vein started to pop up on his neck. „ Leave this castle...leave our kingdom. I ban you from our kingdom. NEVER COME BACK! Understood?“ Hongjoong took Wooyoong and left the bedroom. He pulled him downstairs in the big hall, opened the gate and threw him outside the castle „Leave“ he commanded and Wooyoung took his horse to leave the castle garden which was pretty big and thousands of flowers grew there. He rode over the giant bridge that connects the kingdom with the castle and after a few minutes his silhouette faded away.

Hongjoong walked back into the castle and went upstairs. „Y/n where are you? Please come in our bedroom.“ You heard him saying your name so you got up and walked outside the room in the big and dark hallway where your Husband was waiting for you. „I ́m sorry Joongie please don ́t be angry.“ you walked over to him and you saw the blood on his hands. „What happend joongie? Why is there blood on your hands?“ He took your wrist, pulled you in your sharing bedroom and suddenly slammed you on the closed door. „Please don ́t tell me you liked the thing Wooyoung did to you? This little bastard willl never come back. I banned him.“ You looked into his eyes and you could tell there was pure jealousy in them. „No i didn ́t like it. Please why is there bloo-“ Hongjoong stopped your sentence by kissing you passionately, his one hand holding your arms over your head. „I will never leave you again y/n...“ he whispered into the kiss. He pressed his knee between your legs and his body was against yours, unable to breathe he pulled away from your lips and attacked your neck by marking you, your skin between his sharp teeth. You whimpered under his touch.

„Fuck y/n i missed this so much...I ́m going to show you now who you belong to.“ he groaned against your neck and took your legs around his waist, his already hard member pressed against your core. You let out a breathy moan and he smirked. „Hm does my little doll likes this? My big dick rubbing on your clothed pussy. Let me hear your pretty moans." Hongjoong walked over to the bed with you and layed you down on it. You sat right in front of him starring at his erection which looked painfully hard in his pants, he suddenly opend his belt and pushed down his pants with his boxers. His hard rock member sprung up and creampie covered his red tip. "Suck it", he commaned and you haven't waited a second longer and obeyed him. You took his cock in your mouth and his creampie hitted your taste buds. He let out a few moans and his hands found their place in your hair. "Shit y/n it feels so good", your tongue swirled around his shaft and you moaned for vibrations. He shove his dick into your throat which made you gag around his cock. Tears started to built in your eyes and his hips began to thrust into your mouth, saliva dripping down your chin.

"You look so beautiful, your mouth stuffed with my big cock, gagging and chocking on it. Look at you you dirty slut.. doing what i said hm? So good for me?." You hummed in response.

After a few more thrusts he removed his cock from your mouth, the saliva string which connected your face with his cock turned Hongjoong even more on. He freed you from your clothes also his own. His abs were on full display now and your folds were dripping wet. He pushed you back on your matress and crawled over your body cuffing your hands on the headboard. "What are you going to do with me hongjoong?" you asked, your voice a bit shaky. He looked down on you and his eyes were on fire. "I ́m gonna show you who you belong to", a smirk formed over his face as he saw your wet cunt knowing that it belongs only to him. He started to leave kisses on your jaw, your neck and down your chest until he stopped at your breasts and attacked them. Licking and biting on your nipples, you arched your back "ahh j- joongie..." breathy moans started to leave your mouth and it was music to Hongjoongs ears. He left some purple spots there and moved down between your legs. "Look at this pussy..all wet and all mine, shit it looks so delicious." You felt his hot breath against your folds and desire started to built in you. "fucking don ́t tease me joongie!" you yelled and he gave you a smack on your thight. He harshly spread your legs and his wet muscle met your core. A loud moan left your mouth at the sudden pleasure and you tried to catch your breathe.

He tasted your juice on his tongue and hummed. Your mouth hung widely open, you squeezed your eyes together trying not to move your hips. Tears running down your face as his tongue sunk into your hole fully tasting you, one hand on your thight massaging it and the other on your clit. His thumb circling in a fast pace to send you over the edge. You felt your first climax building in your tummy, "J-joongie i-i can ́t ahh i-." "Yes you can! Don ́t cum without my permission or i have to punish you." His fingers slipped down through your folds teasing you and you whined. "Let me hear your pretty voice, beg for me to let you cum" you did what he said and tried to speak but the only thing that left your lips was a loud moan while he slipped two fingers in your hole without mercy. "Come on little slut, say it or i won ́t let you cum on my fingers" You tried to catch your breath, forcing the words out of your mouth." P-please joongie..l-let me cum, i ́m begging you please." He smiled devilish and his fingers rammed into you with an increase pace, your back arching, your vision got blurry and you closed your eyes again. After his fingers brushed your spot a few time he sent you over the edge and your high washed over you. You screamed and his name echoed through the castle into the stormy night. His face and fingers were covered with your juice, cum and saliva. He cleaned his fingers up and stood in front of you. "You look so beautiful, so helpless and fucked out, tears all over your face, so breathtaking...but i`m not done with you yet." You looked at him crawling over your body and placing himslef between your legs, his hard dick brushing your swollen sex. "J-Joongie please it ́s to much..." "Oh doll don ́t worry it won ́t hurt. The next thing you can tell where his cock balls deep into you streching your pussy. "Fuck-" He cursed because of the pleasure. "Your so thigh doll...shit" You stopped breathing for a moment and he gave you a kiss on your lips." And now be a good girl and tell me how good i make you feel and who you belong to." with this his hips started to thrust into you firstly slow but after some time he increased the pace and his hips were now snapping forth and back into you. The air in the room were so thick so both of you started sweating.

The room was filled with sinful moans and whimpers from you. "O-Oh god..i belong to you! A- and only you can make me feel so good." With the time your second high hitted you and it started to hurt. Tears built in your eyes again and strains of your hair were sticking to your face because of your sweat. "P-Please stop..it hurt ahh" you begged but hongjoong was full with desire and fucked you merciless. Your bed rocking back and forth with every thrust. A familiar feeling started to built in your tummy, your third climax. "I-I ́m cumming ahh..." He suddenly started to thrust faster and harder into you until you felt his dick twitching inside you. "Shit..let ́s cum together y/n" his grip on your waist tightened, you clenched around his cock and his thrusts got sloppier. You both reached your climax, you screaming in pleasure and pain and hongjoong moaning and cursing loudly. He covered your walls with his hot, white seeds. Your mouth were so dry and your chest rose and fell down. You both rode out your high and his head fell against your forehead. "I love you y/n..please never make me this jealous again." he breathed and you let a shaky exhale out. "I love you too Joongie, i promise" He smiled and gave you a peck on your lips. He pulled his member out and watched his and your cum leaking out of your hole. "You look so fucking adorable..so ruined by me, fucked so dumb" he smiled and got out of the room. You wondered where he was going and after a few minutes he turend back in your bedroom and uncuffed you. "We have to clean you up now, i prepared a hot bath for you."

Your legs were shaking and wobbly unable to walk alone. He picked you up and walked with you into the bathroom. You stepped into the bathtube and he joined you to help you clean yourself. He washed your hair and your body, dried you up and clothed you with a fresh pyjama. "Thank you Joongie" you gave him a kiss while he layed you down in your bed. "If you need something then let me know okay? You should sleep now and take some rest." you nooded and layed back. Hongjoong placed himself next to you and held you in his stong arms until you both fell asleep.

•Taglist: @kimroieho @sexyteddycjh

This is the second part of the fanfic. I hope you enjoyed it, pls interact with my fic so I can see if you liked it <3 and I’m so thankful and happy about everyone who iteracts <3 stay healthy and feel loved

[doubleleoenergy]

V. Off to the Races, Lolita Series

My old man is a tough man, but he got a soul as sweet as blood-red jam. And he shows me, he knows me. Every inch of my tar-black soul.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: bestfriendsdad!Andy Barber x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of alcohol, mentions of relationship violence, rape, and murder, pet names, passionate sex,

Words: 4025 (I am SO sorry for this)

Summary: Andy takes y/n on a weekend getaway while Jacob and his friends are out of town.

Two weeks had dragged on since Andy had gotten a taste of y/n’s sweet nectar, and since then nothing. It wasn’t like they really had the chance to be alone, Jacob and the other boys weren’t going out late at night or on the weekends as they usually did. Andy had to settle for his hand every night, reminiscing on their oral escapades.

It didn’t help that Andy had been swamped with cases, court appearances, and tons of paperwork. He had spent every night of those two weeks at the office until his eyes physically couldn’t stare at the cases in front of him anymore. Andy even showed up on the weekend to fit in a little extra work, hoping it would help take care of some of the load but to no avail. He was completely and thoroughly exhausted, and he could tell that y/n was as well.

She had worked directly with him on a few late-night cases, the rest of the time being spent shadowing Neal fucking Loguidice. It was great for her internship to do so, getting new perspectives of different attorneys in the office, but it was not as good for his jealousy.

By Thursday evening the heavy load of cases and paperwork had seemed to disappear, and Andy was grateful for being able to leave the office at a decent hour. With y/n in tow, he ducked into his Audi, waiting for y/n to get comfortable in the passenger seat before roaring the vehicle to life.

“Is it just me, or have these past two weeks been exhausting?” He asked, glancing out of the corner of his eyes at y/n as he drove. Andy knew her answer before she even opened her mouth, a loud groan leaving her lips as she rested her head back against the seat.

“You’re telling me, if I have to hear Neal mention one more time about his new kickboxing class, I’m going to gouge my eyes out. He really fucking sucks.” Her words elicit a chuckle from Andy’s lips, a smile of pride seeping onto his face. It was good to know she didn’t have any interest in Neal.

“We should do something fun this weekend, just the two of us. Maybe you’ll let me finally take you on a date” He suggested, lulling his car to a stop at the next red light. Y/N raised an eyebrow in his direction, cocking her head to the side. “Andy, I already told you, I don’t do relationships.”

Andy rolled his eyes, shifting in his seat to look at her. “Yeah, you said that, but I’m in it for the long game, y/n. You have to admit there’s something between us.”

“Andy…” She sighs, watching the sun setting out the passenger window. Sure, there was definitely something between him. Was he different from all the other guys before that she had hooked up with? Yes, of course. First off, she had never been with a man his age, someone with a career, a house, and a car of his own. He even had a pension and a life insurance policy; she hadn’t hooked up with any men who had those.

The car is silent as they pull into the garage, Andy immediately shutting off the car and sitting back in his seat. Y/N looked down at her lap awkwardly, reaching for the door but Andy stopped her with a tug to her wrist, getting her to look up at him.

“You want to be an attorney, right?” The question has her furrowing her brows, looking at him as if he had said ‘You know the sky is blue, right?’

“Of course, you know that, but what does that have to do with-” Andy cuts her off by holding up his index finger, loosening his grip on her wrist. “Attorneys defend their cases in court to a judge or jury, who then ultimately decide the fate of their clients. Their job is to convince someone that their claim is right.” Andy rests one hand on the steering wheel, a smug smirk crossing his lips.

“Saturday morning we’ll leave for a weekend getaway, planned by yours truly. This will all be part of my case as to why we should be together, no more games, officially together. You as the judge will examine the weekend's evidence and conclude on whether we should be together. If you decide after the weekend that you don’t think so, I’ll leave it alone and we won’t have to discuss it ever again. But I’m hoping for it to change your mind.” Before she can protest, Andy holds his hand up. “And I’ll even get us a room with two beds, no funny business, promise. So...will you hear my case out?”

Y/N had to admit, she had never been chased by a guy so ferociously, but what was the harm in seeing the evidence and getting a free weekend vacation out of it? She stuck her hand out for him to shake, a professional gesture for their arrangement. “Alright, I will gladly hear your case out.”

Andy had arranged it all down to the last detail, including lying to Jacob and the boys about an important conference for work that they both had to attend that weekend. Of course, he didn’t suspect a thing, he went out of town for conferences all the time, and thus his plan was set.

When Saturday morning finally arrived, Andy was feeling great. He had gone for an early morning jog, took a long shower, and even trimmed his hair and beard. Andy dressed in a plain white t-shirt and dark denim jeans, packing his bag with his essentials for the evening before walking out into the kitchen. As usual, the boys were all still asleep, hungover from their late-night game of shot roulette, which left the house extremely quiet.

Andy couldn’t help the smile creeping onto his face as he walked into the kitchen and saw y/n waiting at the counter, a familiar plate of breakfast and coffee next to her. “It’s a Saturday, you know that right? Thought breakfast was for workdays.” He stated, moving to sit at his usual spot beside her.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” She responded, taking a swig from her coffee mug. Andy’s eyes wandered along her body; her outfit of the day effortlessly beautiful. She wore a tight white bodysuit tucked into a pair of figure-hugging mint shorts; a pair of matching wedges slipped onto her dainty feet to complete the look.

“You’re right, it is.” Andy’s silverware moved to cut into his meal, chewing thoughtfully as he thought about the day ahead. “You’d think that by making me breakfast you were trying to plead your own case.” He teased, engulfing another bite of his food.

Y/N rolled her eyes at him, moving to set her now empty coffee mug in the sink. “I’ve got nothing to plead, you on the other hand, do.” She waits with her back to the counter, playing on her phone until he finishes his meal, setting his plate in the sink behind her.

“Are you ready to go?” He questioned, grabbing his duffel bag off the floor. Y/N followed suit, grabbing her tiny black suitcase and following him out into the garage. Andy grabbed the suitcase from her, setting it with his own bag in the trunk before they both got into the car, backing slowly out of the driveway.

It was a beautiful day out, the sun was shining, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Y/N asks, crossing her legs.

“Would it matter? You’re not familiar with the state anyhow.” He retorted, pulling up the address on his GPS as they started on their journey.

“True, I just want to know what I’m getting into.” Her eyes locked on the GPS, noticing the destination was an hour away. “Rockport? What’s in Rockport?” She asked, raising a shapely brow in Andy’s direction.

“Well for starters, it’s along the ocean, which guarantees a good view. It also has great shopping, beaches, and restaurants. It’s a nice little getaway.” Andy turns on the radio as the car goes silent, y/n admiring the view as they drive.

The silence in the car was comfortable, both of them enjoying each other’s company, and before they knew it, they had arrived at their home for the weekend. They were staying at the Cove at Rockport, a beautiful inn right along the ocean. It was even more classy than the photos online, and Andy made quick working of getting them checked into their room.

Andy and y/n walked together down the long hallway to their room, room one on the first floor. Unlocking the door with the key provided, Andy pushed it open, allowing y/n to step in and take in their living arrangements.

The main room was huge, donning a cute little breakfast nook adjacent to the kitchen, a living room, two separate bedrooms, and a bathroom. The decor was all beach themed, of course, shades of blues and beiges filling their sights.

“This definitely deserves a point towards your case.” Y/N admitted, chewing on her bottom lip. It was honestly the nicest place she’d ever stayed at, more luxurious than what she had expected. Walking further into the space, y/n pushed open the sliding door, the sound of waves hitting the shore bursting through her ears as she took in the view. It truly was gorgeous, much different from shitty life in Ohio.

“So, I did alright with my first piece of evidence?” He chortled, leaning back against the cool wall. Y/N continues to take in the view outside, a light breeze picking up and blowing her hair off her shoulders.

“I’d say so.” She shuts the sliding doors and walks back to investigate the sleeping spaces, setting her bags in the room with a large picture of a beach umbrella over the bed, the smaller of the two. “Well, what else do you have planned for your case? Because if this is it, I can come to a decision right away.”

Andy moved his own bag into the opposite room before walking into y/n’s and sitting down on the plush comforter. “I wanted to start the trip with a walk downtown, explore some of the shops before we get ready for our dinner reservations at six.”

Ah, he even sprung for reservations, what a smart man. “Sounds good, let’s explore.” Y/N got up from the bed, grabbing her purse before Andy followed her out, walking out of their room towards the lobby.

Downtown was only about a five-minute walk from the inn, an enjoyable stroll filled with laughter from a group of teens on the sidewalk, birds chirping in the trees, and the smell of fresh muffins wafting from the window of a bakery on the street. “Well, where should we look first?” He asked, turning to look at y/n for guidance on where she’d like to go.

They had spent about two full hours downtown, walking in and out of all the little shops, picking up a blueberry donut to share from one of the bakeries, and taking photos of each other along the Rockport streets. Most of the photos Andy took of y/n were very Instagram appropriate photos, staring down the camera and moving from angle to angle. On a few photos though, Andy would say something to make her laugh, snapping away at her genuine reaction.

Before long they were walking back into the room to get ready for their dinner reservations. Andy was pulling out all the stops, dressing up in one of his nicest black suits, a matching black tie situated atop a crisp white button down. He spritzed on some of his favorite Versace Eros cologne, adjusting the laces of his dress shoes before walking out into the living room. Andy had ordered a dozen red roses to be delivered to the suite, arriving shortly after he had finished getting ready, sitting on the couch with the flowers and waiting for y/n to walk out. God, he hoped this wasn’t too cheesy.

After about five minutes of waiting anxiously, the door to y/n’s room opened, noticing her delicate silver peep toe heels first. His eyes roamed up her toned and tanned legs, settling on her baby blue dress, off the shoulder with slightly puffy sleeves, a tie in the front revealing just a bit of cleavage. The ruffles on the hem swayed as she moved, her eyes taking in the sight of him as well with the flowers.

Suddenly Andy stood up, holding out the flowers to her. “You look incredible, Lolita.” There went the pet name again, though it was always so fitting for her. “Shall we go?” Y/N silently thanked him for the flowers, taking a whiff of their sweet aroma before setting them down on the counter near the door. She followed Andy to his car, waving him off when he tried to open her door for her. Her expression stayed on Andy the entire drive, inhaling his intoxicating cologne, licking her lips. Y/N had to admit, he always looked great in a suit.

The restaurant was only a ten-minute drive from the inn, a little classy seafood restaurant along the ocean coast. It was packed with people, a quartet playing Sinatra’s finest hits off in the far-right corner of the room. Some people were dancing, some were sitting along the bar against the left wall, while most were diners enjoying their meals at their table.

Y/N and Andy were led to a table near the back wall facing the ocean view. Andy started off by ordering a bottle of chardonnay for the table, taking in the sight of y/n lit up by the candlelight provided.

“This is beautiful, Andy.” She exclaimed, her eyes scanning the room and all the happy couples around them. Andy smiled before opening his menu, mulling over what to order. “I told you, I’m great at pleading my case. And as you know, I almost always win.” Y/N rolled her eyes, opening her own menu. “Key word, almost.”

After deciding on what to eat, Andy getting the seafood gnocchi and y/n ordering the lobster bisque, Andy poured them each a glass of wine, holding his up towards hers. “Cheers to an unforgettable night.” He exclaimed, clinking their glasses together before they each took a sip of their respective glasses.

As they wait for their food, Andy and y/n sit and talk more about their likes and dislikes, what they want in the future, and the day they had downtown. Their food arrives during the conversation and they continue to talk while they indulge in their meals, all the food just as incredible as the atmosphere.

About thirty minutes later Andy and y/n take in their last bites of food, sitting back and enjoying the liveliness around them. As they waited for their check to arrive, the sound of Sinatra’s hit ‘It Had to Be You’ started drifting from the quartet. Andy smiles, holding out his hand towards y/n as he stares down at her. “Dance with me?” He asks, taking in her surprised expression before she scoots herself out of her seat, grabbing his hand as he led her over to where the other couples were dancing. Andy places his hands on the small of her back, y/n wrapping her own around his neck as they sway to the tune.

“This is definitely not as good as dancing together at the club.” She joked, making Andy laugh. “Well, technically I wouldn’t call that dancing. More like...gyrating, or maybe dry humping? Definitely not the same.” Her smile brightened; his eyes locked on her as they moved. It was as if they were the only people there, like the whole world stopped to see them dance.

“For nobody else gave me a thrill. With all your faults, I love you still. It had to be you...Wonderful you...It had to be you…” The quartet crooned, the song ending and a few of the couples clapping in response. Andy’s eyes bore into y/n’s, licking his lips before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her lips, holding it for a moment before y/n pulled away, clearing her throat and letting go of his neck.

“M’sure the bill is on the table.” She stated, walking back towards their chairs. Andy let out a huff of disappointment, following her over to the table and paying for their meal before they walked in silence back to their car.

The car ride felt riddled with tension, the tension continuing to build as they got back to the room. “We need to talk, y/n.” He admitted as the door of their suite shut behind them, crossing his arms against his broad chest. Y/N leaned her weight against the wall between their bedrooms, tilting her head up to look at him.

“Andy…” She started, becoming silent again and chewing on her bottom lip. Andy’s stance becomes more tense, taking a step closer to her. “I want you, y/n. And not because of how mind-blowingly attractive you are. You are intelligent, thoughtful, and selfless. You’re not stuck up or fussy about material items. You make me feel like I’m in my twenties again, you make me feel like I’ve never felt with another woman.”

He takes another step closer to her, hovering above her due to his height. She puts her hands on his chest to stop him from moving, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“I’m terrified of this, Andy. How do I know you won’t turn out just like my piece of shit father, huh?” She leans her body weight against the wall, peering up at him.

“Look, I know how you feel, alright?” He moves away from her again, his back turned towards her as his hand ruffles through his hair. “I know firsthand, my father...he’s also in prison. He went to prison when I was young for raping and murdering a 19-year old woman. I vowed to myself to never ever treat a woman without kindness and respect. Though my marriage with Laurie wasn’t perfect, I’m sure she’d say that I was nothing like my father, and nothing like yours for that matter.”

He turns back to look at her, arms outstretched. “I promise I will never hurt you; you can trust me. I’m all in, y/n. And I meant everything I said.”

She processes his story of his father, realizing they had a lot more in common than she once thought. Her heart is beating so fast she thought it might splatter in her chest, closing the distance between the two quickly. Her hand came up to grip his jaw, leaning up and kissing him lovingly. They continue to kiss, y/n parting her lips to allow Andy’s tongue to slip inside, exploring her mouth and causing her to moan. After a moment they both pull away breathless, her hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Okay...I’m all in too, with you.” Her words are all Andy had been wanting to hear, gripping her waist and kissing her lustfully this time, pushing them backwards until they both hit the wall again with a groan. His lips trailed a line of kisses down her neck and along her collarbone, shrugging off his suit jacket and making quick work at the buttons on his shirt, practically ripping the buttons off completely.

Y/N is tilting her head back against the wall, helping to push off his now open shirt to expose his God-like torso. This was her first time seeing his chest, running her cool fingers against his abs as he kissed back up her neck and into her mouth.

He plays with the fabric on sleeves of her dress, pushing them down so that she can fully shimmy out of the pale blue fabric. Her breasts are on full display, no bra to pull down, and Andy growled at the sight of them. They were just as perky as they had been while peeking through her outfits.

He nudged her body in the direction of his bed, hands making quick work of his belt and pulling down his trousers, kicking them into a pile as he walked into the bedroom after her in only his Calvin Klein briefs. Andy moved forward to kiss her again, knocking them both over onto the bed, a breathy laugh escaping her throat. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, my little Lolia.” He purred, his hands coming up between them to knead over her delectable breasts. Y/N cried out from the touch, grinding her hips up into Andy’s to evoke a similar noise from him. “Andy, need you…” She whined, her back arching off the bed, her panties rolling against his clearly clothed hard cock.

He slipped his hands lower, teasing his fingertips along her folds, already slick with her desire. “Need what, Lolita? Need you to tell me exactly what you want.” Her hands rub his cock through the thin fabric, a whine of impatience leaving her lips. 

“Need you inside me, Andy. Please, fuck my pussy.” Her words ignite an animalistic groan from his lips, pulling off her and scooting her up further onto the bed until her head touched the pillows. He quickly tugged off his boxers, stepping out of them before shimmying her out of her panties, tossing them aside.

His eyes grew dark as he took in her naked form in front of him, stroking his cock. She really was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, and she was all his. Andy moved onto the bed, hovering over y/n with his cock dragging against her glistening folds. He was bigger than the guys she’d been with before, and the thought alone excited and terrified her. Her fingers land on the skin of his shoulder blades, pressing in lightly as she locks eyes with him.

“Andy, please.” She begs again. Andy keeps his eyes on hers as he pushes in slowly, giving her time to adjust as he moves inch by inch into her cunt. Her nails dig a bit deeper into his skin, mewling as he continues to press into her until he finally bottoms out, holding himself in place. 

“God, my little Lolita, you’re so fucking tight...you’re milking my cock and I haven’t even moved yet. Do you want me to move?” He leant down and pressed a passionate kiss to her lips, waiting for her mumbled ‘mhm’ against him before he rolled his hips into hers.

The pace started slowly, building up speed with every little noise y/n’s mouth made, coming undone underneath him with each thrust. They continued to share soft kisses, moaning into each other’s mouths, y/n’s hands locking around his neck.

“Andy.” She breathed, her walls tightening and releasing around him. “Wanna cum for you.”

Andy quickened his pace, kissing along her pulse point on her neck. “Cum for me, Lolita. Want to feel you cum on my cock.” It doesn’t take her long after his sentence before she’s tightening her walls again, crying out as her orgasm rips through her. Her eyesight is full of stars, and it takes a second for her to regain her vision, focusing on Andy’s face once she does.

“M’gonna cum in this pretty cunt, fill you up to the brim.” He states, thrusting a few more times before coating her walls with his release. He stills inside of her for a moment before pulling out slowly and plopping down with his back on the bed next to her.

They both lie in silence, staring up at the ceiling, panting. The sex was incredible, better than they both could’ve imagined. Andy’s arm wraps loosely around y/n’s shoulder, tugging her into his chest and pressing a loving kiss to her forehead.

“You’re mine now, it’s official.” He looked down at her with a lazy smile, watching as her fingers began to trail up and down his chest. “Guess you could say I won yet another case.”

“Shut up, Andy.”

Tagging those who may be interested. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list: @my-divine-death @blackwiddows @sokovianheadtilt @fuckandfluff @rattlemyb0nes @rootcrop @turtoix @sylvielaufeydottirr @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @ccmarvelxx @rebelemilu @tenaciousperfectionunknown @agentofbarnes @serendipityrogers

[talia-rumlow]

Chapter one of my Rumlow X reader story. This story will contain graphic description of violence, sexual content, BDSM content, murder and Domination. Please read on own risk.

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Chapter 1: We Don´t Treat Women Like That!

Chapter Text

He squizes tighter around your throat, you desperately try to tell him to stop, but because of his grip, you can't make a sound. You feel like your lungs are about to explode. You look at him, your eyes pleading him to stop, but he only smiles back at you. You can feel your eyes closing, and the energy leaving your body. *This is it, he's really going to kill me*

----------------

You are awaken by your own scream, covered in sweat, and breathing heavily. Fuck, another nightmare. That's just fucking perfect. Third time this week, and it's only Thursday. You turn around in your bed, and look at the time. 6pm, shit you fell alseep again, you should be unpacking. You sit up, and look around your bedroom. Still packed with cardboard boxes. Leaving David and Chicago was the only right choice, after what happened. But the move to New York, and this new job got you exhausted even though you haven't started working yet.

You take a shower, the warm water relaxes you, and you are finally able to shake off the nightmare. You put on some new clothes, and decide to go out for a drink, or ten. You could really use some, and you dont start work until Monday, so you are allowed one hangover Day. God knows, you need it.

The bar down the street is still quiet. It's still early. The only ones there are some regulars at the bar, and a group of badass guys all dressed in black, at one of the tables. You look at them. They all have the same shirts on. All black, exept a white logo, on the left arm. Looks like a bird of some kind. They look totally jacked, like they are mercenarys or something. What kind of place did they actually put you in. You got your apartment through work. And they promised you that it was the safest place in the City.

You order a drink, and look around once more. You never feel safe anymore. David is still sending threatening messages, saying he'll find you. And you know what'll happen if he does.

After a couple more drinks, the bar starts to fill up, with more and more people. You start to feel the panic taking over. You don't have control anymore. You go to the ladies room to compose yourself.

You splash your face with water, and look at yourself in the mirror. *Get it together YN. He would have found you by now*. You take a deep breath, before you open the door, and walk out into the hallway.

Before you can even think, someone is grabbing your neck, spins you around, and pins you to the wall. And then you look into those eyes. HIS eyes. You are so scared you can't make a sound. Tears are running from your eyes, and every fiber in you prepares for the inevetable. *God, this is it. He is going to kill me. I am going to die, outside the ladies room, in a fucking sleezy bar*. You are pretty sure you can hear the adrenaline pumping away in your vains. You are totally paralyzed. Even when he lets go of your arms, to grab your throat, you are unable to move. You close your eyes. You will never in a million years give him the satisfaction of looking into your eyes when he does this.

You expect him to grab your throat, but that doesnt happen. Instead you feel someone yanking him away from you. Then you hear a loud bang, as he hits the wall on the other side of the hall. Then another bang. You finally dare to open your eyes. And then you see one of those badass guys standing over David, punching him repeatedly.

- We don't treat women like that!

One punch for each word spoken. You are still paralyzed. You want to say something, but your whole body is in shock.

Then the guy standing over David, takes out a knife from his boot. You did not see that coming. You take one step forward. You are shaking so bad, that you have to steady yourself against the wall. So again, you just observe.

The guy puts the whole lenght of the blade against David's throat.

- God knows I want to do this. BUT, I won't, because of this beautiful lady standing behind me. But if I EVER see you put one finger on her or any other lady for that matter again. Trust me when I say, I will use it on you. Now, leave, before I change my mind!

David gets up, glance at you once, and then he leaves. You still cant make a sound. The guy comes over to you.

- Are you OK? Do you know that guy?

You take a deep breath, and look up at him. He is handsome. He is well built. You can see that, even trough his clothes. Dark hair, Brown eyes. He has a playful boyish kinda look, but at the same time, you can tell that he is older than you.

- Did he hurt you?

You shake your head..

- He.. He is my... WAS my boyfriend.

The guy looks at you.

- Boyfriend? Really? How did a beautiful girl like you, end up with a loser like him?

You look at him.. Beautiful?

- It's a long story..

- Well I've got time. If not, I can walk you home. You wouldn't believe how many of him it is out there.

You contemplate having a drink with him, and talk. But decide against it. You do however take him up on the offer of walking you home.

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[hellfireclubpres]

Cherry Bomb |  Chapter 7 - Ladies, You've Got Nothing To Lose

late to hellfire? | previous chapter | it all starts here

Stepping through the threshold of the theater doors, the cool chill of the AC smacked lightly against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. The subtle sound of papers shifting and plastic tapping lightly against wood, you slowly maneuvered down the hallway, following the low glow of a soft yellow light spilling from a door way at the end of the hallway. Creeping down the hall, you waited to hear any voices. Maybe the boys had gotten here before you, maybe hitched a ride form Eddie on his way here? Turning into the doorway of the D&D room, the figure who'd been making all the noise appeared, back turned to you as they work feverishly placing everything in their respected spots.

You placed your bag down lightly by the doorway, being careful not to create too much noise to not spook the man working attentively before you. But to no avail, you'd been compromised. "You're early, Red." Eddie spoke, keeping his back to you as he fumbled about the table. Placing a character here, piece of paper there. It wasn't until he was on the side of the table closest to the door, did he turn around to face you, resting himself against the edge of the wood.

You fumbled around your head for an answer, not being able to find one before Eddie spoke up, "Not that you're suppose to be here anyway." He spewed, crossing his arms over his chest. He tilt his head, giving you an almost sympathetic look.

"But what else would I expect," He started, raising his arms in the air dramatically, turning around to the table behind him, making his way to the head where the 'throne' sat. Placing his hands on the table, he leaned forward a bit, "There's a reason you're here."

You began to walk to the side of the table Eddie left, twisting at the rings that donned your fingers. "Yeah, Mike invited me sit in." You said confidently, placing your own hands on the table. Eddie studied you for a second before bouncing backwards in his wooden seat behind him.

"And you think Wheeler throwing you an invite gives you the green light to come here, without my permission?" Eddie questioned, his eyebrows hitching upwards.

"Hell if they had it their way, they'd invite any pretty girl that looked in their direction, you just happened to be the one that talks to them." He stated, throwing a jab at you as though talking the boys was a strenuous task. You eyebrows furrowed, stepping from behind the table to the side, inching closer to the man in the throne.

"What the fuck is that suppose to mean?" You question, disgust smeared across your face. Eddie laughed, standing up quickly in front of his seat.

"Means your not special Red, though you try desperately to be." The insult cut deep. Just the night before, Eddie was saving you from the wrath of your stepfather, to not only 24 hours later, say you're not special? You head spun, ears rang as you collected all that Eddie was saying.

"Trying desperately to gains these kids' attention," He continued, growing closer and closer to you as each sentence left his lips. "Almost like your trying to pull them away from me." You shook your head, confused and flustered as Eddie stood a mere two feet in front of you. "No Eddie I wasn't tryin-" He took a step forward, his chest almost touching yours. Given the close proximity, you peered up at him, feeling small as he towered over you. "You're right, you're not trying to do anything. You're not trying to join Hellfire. You're not trying to out do me as the freak of Hawkins High and you most certainly," He paused for a moment, taking your cheek in his hand, sliding a thumb across your red stained lip. "not trying to get my attention wearing this slutty red lip, right?" Eddie stopped, placing his hand on the table beside the two of you, smirking softly as he watched you, flustered by the words that had just left his mouth. The mixture of insults and and flirting left you completely confused, Eddie was a walking mindfuck.

Opening your mouth to speak, Eddie raised his hand, shaking his head, "No let me finish. You weren't invited here, sure as shit weren't welcome here, definitely not wanted." He spat at you, the harsh words sinking right into your chest. Even after everything that had happened the night before, Eddie treated you like you were nothing, like a threat. As if you'd made nice with his club members to somehow, in someway, take his spot at the head of the table. When in reality, you just wanted friends, a group to call your family.

Anger took over your face, brows furrowing as Eddie continued, "This is my group, understand? I decide who joins and who doesn't and it looks like, you didn't make the cut. So why not turn tail, get out of here.. stop trying to be apart of something you're not, 'kay?." Eddie finally finished, his chest heaving as he closed his eyes, turning away from you. You stood there in total shock, waiting for Eddie to crack his award winning smile and laugh at you for falling for the prank he was playing on you.

Continuing to set up for the campaign, Eddie fell silent, completely ignoring the fact that you'd been in the room with him. Footsteps approached the room before Dustin and the other members swarmed in, hollering about all tonight had to offer. You stood next to the table, still staring at Eddie as he finished setting up, taking a seat in his throne before welcoming the boys in, smiling at them as they made their way to the table. Cutting off their conversations, they finally took a moment to acknowledge you.

"Oh shit, new kid in town coming to fuck Eddie's campaign up!" Dustin stated, clapping as he turned to Mike. "I told you she'd show up dude, Vecna doesn't even stand a chance now!" Mike and Dustin high fived as you kept your attention on Eddie, eyes locked onto him as he watched the boys at the other end of the table. Shifting his attention to you, he flashed you a sympathetic look, "Actually boys, y/n here, was just telling me something came up and she's gonna have to leave, aint that right Red?" Eddie asked, keeping the fake sympathetic look, eyes locked onto you. Fighting back tears, anger washed over your body as you nodded. "Yup, something came up at home and I gotta run." You spoke to the boys, still keeping your eyes on Eddie. Walking towards him, you leaned in close to his face, squirming a bit in his seat, his brows furrowed as he stared. "Thanks again for helping me last night.. my fucking hero." You spat, loud enough that only Eddie heard. Swallowing hard, Eddie sank back in his seat, rolling his eyes before looking at Dustin and Mike who were smart enough to know, something was up. Turning around to leave the room, you passed by the boys, flashing them an anger filled smile, grabbing your belongings at the door, you turned in the doorway, looking right through the boys to the man sitting in the throne. "And Eddie, I don't need to go out of my way to get your attention.." You nodded, turning around, walking through the door of the theater out to your car.

"That'll be $22.75" the man behind the liquor store counter spoke, placing your bottles into brown bags as you fumbled through your wallet for the money. The mixture of tear filled eyes and shaking hands prolonged the process. Finally pulling the money out, you placed it on the counter, reaching for the bag, the cashier drew back. "Ma'am, your ID" He pressed, eyebrow hitched upwards, annoyed at the reminder. With a sigh, you pulled out your fake ID, showing it to the man as if it had been an inconvenience to you. Taking a hold of the ID, he studied it before looking past it to you. Tilting your head to the side, you looked at the bag in his hand, then back up at him. Rolling his eyes, he tossed you the ID, handing you the brown bag. "Don't be stupid kid." You nodded, darting for the door before making your way into your car.

The ride home was nothing short of chaotic. Loud music screamed through your speakers as you sped your way home, weaving in and out of traffic. Finally making it to the trailer park you called home, you pulled onto your street. Peering down the road, you took note that Eddie's uncle had already left for work, rendering his trailer empty for the night. Pulling up to the makeshift curb outside of his trailer, you threw your car in park. Tossing your feet onto the passenger seat, you popped out the bottle of liquor you bought and began drinking, singing along to the metal songs playing through the car speakers.

3 hours into your drinking pity party, the loud engine of Eddie's shit pile of a van could be heard from the entrance of the trailer park. Eddie pulled into your street, slowing down before turning into his driveway. Turning your car off, you opened the car door, stumbling into the road before shutting the door behind you. Standing up, you leaned against the trunk of your car as you watched Eddie. Grabbing his bag, he put both arms through the holes, carrying it on his back. Shutting his car door, he looked over your way, watching you as you made your way to him. Drunkenly lifting your arms in the air, you cried, "The great Eddie has returned home!". Eddie studied you for a moment, brows furrowing as he watched you stumble across his yard. "Eddie 'the asshole' returns home ladies and gentlemen, our fucking h-hero!" You continued, now standing just a few feet in front of him, you stopped. "You know, the s-shit you pulled tonight, you were b-better off not stopping him.." You spewed angrily at the man standing before you. Eddie scoffed, walking passed you to his stairs, opening the door of his trailer. You followed behind, shouting at him as you walked through his door.

"I'm not f-fucking done Munson!" You took a swig of whatever was in your bottle, Eddie coming over to you, snatching it before placing it down on the counter. "I'm n-not trying to gain anyones fucking attention!" You continued, standing in Eddie's living room as he fumbled around in his bedroom. "The boys, the h-hellfire group? They fucking love me c-cause I'm nice Ed-di" You called out, his name coming out singsong as he walked down the hallway into the kitchen. "And you know what, you're a p-piece of shit! you know that!" You stumbled around his living room, Eddie made his way into the living room with you, sitting on the arm of the couch as he watch you in silence. "And fuck you, I like this lipstick!" You interjected, almost as if Eddie had made a comment about it right then and there. You sat down on the couch next to Eddie, sipping his own beer, he titled his head to the side. "You done yet?" He watched you plop yourself down on the couch, awaiting your answer.

You took a moment, collecting your very drunk thoughts before you looked over at Eddie. Keeping himself entertained, he fiddled with his rings, twisting them around his fingers as he watched you. "No Ed-di, I'm not" You got back off the couch, Eddie rolling his eyes as the your drunk antics continued. "How could you save me, swoop in and and be my hero, then t-turn around and hate me.. say all those hurtful things!" Eddie took a sip of his beer, tapping one of his many rings against the glass bottle. "I think you need to sober up" He recommended, stepping from the couch to stand in front of you. "I think you need to apoplogize!" You retorted drunkenly, turning around, you were now face to face with the man, the few finches of height making it impossible for you two to physically see eye to eye. You stared up at the man, eyes glossed over, mostly from the drunk but partially from the tears you'd shed earlier. Eddie finally got a good look at you, your eyes red from your emotions, knowing he'd pushed you this far. You were right, not only did you experience abuse, you were saved then shunned away from the person who saved you. He felt like a monster, a freak. Eddie sighed, looking at the state you were in, guilt flooding over him he blinked slowly before speaking softly, "Lets get you cleaned up."

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[gukyi]

if i told you | jjk

summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

{friends to lovers!au, college!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, angst, we’ve got it all folks word count: 22k warnings: slightly underage alcohol consumption, mention of words that could be spoken on an crime documentary series but nothing graphic, ravioli-stealing, idiots to lovers, as per usual a/n: finally! here is the long awaited jungkook fic that i have literally been slaving over since the beginning of january. was this fic supposed to be 10k? yes. did i somehow end up writing 22k anyway? of course! in any case, please enjoy my absolute baby who i love and cherish!

check out the post-script drabble here!

Jeon Jungkook loses his job at the university call center on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year. 

You know this because on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 2:07PM, seven minutes after he normally starts his job at the university call center. 

He’s lucky that you’re the only one who doesn’t have class in the 2PM hour. 

“Y/N!” He shouts through the thin wooden door, his voice probably echoing down the thin hallway of your apartment complex. 

You open it before the second knock—you only rush to the door to get him to shut the fuck up, and not because you’re excited to see him, you swear—to see him standing on the other side, XXL university hoodie draped over his figure, down to his mid-thigh, baggy hood pulled over his head like a sad college-aged Star Wars character. He looks exactly like a jaded sophomore year college student would. He is beautiful. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the call center right now?” You ask in lieu of a normal “hello” or even a “what the fuck are you doing here, it’s 2PM”. Jungkook does not wait for you to invite him inside your apartment, immediately kicks off his shoes by the entrance and tugs on your apartment slippers that are a size-and-a-half too small for his feet, and marches over to your shared fridge to fish through the tupperware containers with your name written on Post-it notes for a mid-afternoon snack. 

Jungkook waits until he’s got an entire piece of frozen supersized ravioli shoved into his mouth before he responds. “I was fired,” he says over a mouthful of pasta and cheese.

“What?” You ask, eyes widening as Jungkook shuffles through your kitchen drawers for a fork, which means that the first piece of ravioli that he ate he did so with his bare ass hands. Like a heathen. Like a ravioli-craving twenty-year-old heathen. 

“I was fired,” Jungkook repeats. He stares at the microwave resting on your kitchen counter for a good ten seconds before he continues to eat the cold, unheated pasta. Every time he’s in your apartment (which is frequently), he tells you how it’s a fire, water, and explosive hazard to have your microwave on the counter like that. As if there is any other place in your apartment for it to go. Maybe out on the tiny balcony you have that overlooks the busiest street on campus. 

“Care to offer an explanation as to why?” You ask, coming up next to him. Jungkook is nearly finished with your tupperware of ravioli, and normally you’d shout at him for it, but seeing as he was just fired from his only source of income as a money-starved college student, you’ll cut him some slack. Just a little. 

“You remember that old, angry alumnus that told me that asking for donations in order to benefit low-income-slash-first generation students was selfish and rude of me, and that I wouldn’t be in college if it weren’t for what his generation accomplished?” Jungkook asks. 

You remember that vividly. Jungkook spent an approximate two hours and thirty-seven minutes on FaceTime with you ranting about this one “old man bitch” who he had to speak to during his day at work, all while you did your economics problem set to the sweet, mellifluous sound of Jungkook’s shrill shrieks. 

“The one you lost your temper at and shouted at for being ungrateful and elitist?” You ask pointedly. You have a feeling you already know where this conversation is going. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes. He finishes the ravioli (goddamnit, now you’re going to have to find something else to eat for dinner at 11PM tonight) and turns around to place it in the sink. For once, it is not piled high with dishes from up to a week ago, so Jungkook even squirts a bit of Dawn onto a sponge and washes the plastic container for you. “Well, as it turns out, telling an old racist elitist that he’s old, racist, and elitist does not go down well with my boss.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” you muse. Jungkook sighs, walking over to where you’re taking it easy on the couch. “Oh no,” you say, eyes widening as he grins, plotting something. “Do not, Jungkook. Jungkook, do not!”

He jumps, catapulting himself onto the couch and landing on top of you with a thud. You let out a groan as the weight of his body hits you, foreheads nearly knocking into each other. Jungkook is a good foot-and-a-half too long for this dinky leather couch that’s always sort of smelled, feet and ankles hanging off the opposing arm rest just so he can nuzzle his face into the crook of your shoulder like he always does. You hate when he does this. Hate when he jumps onto the couch while you’re casually reclining just so he can collapse on top of you. Hate the feeling of his body resting against yours, soft breathes against the skin of your neck. Hate how it always makes you want more, how it will never be enough. 

“Have you been working out?” You mumble against the fabric of his t-shirt. “You’re more muscle-y than usual.”

“I added weights to my routine,” Jungkook tells you mindlessly. If your roommates walked into your apartment right now and saw the both of you on the couch, you’d never hear the end of it. “Taehyung said it would make me more swole.”

“As if you need to be any more buff,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jungkook’s the most athletic person you’ve ever met in your entire life. He could probably pick up your dinky couch with you sitting on it without batting an eyelash. Even Superman would tremble at the sight of him. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jungkook mutters into your skin. “God, what the fuck am I gonna do now? I need money to pay for everything in my life and my one source of income is now totally invalid because an old guy got what he deserved.”

“Are there any work-study positions still available?” You ask, hand reaching up to stroke at his hair, smoothing it down. Jungkook’s preferred cuddling position is big spoon, but he still demands that he be coddled as though he were the little spoon. 

“No,” Jungkook says with a huff, “they’ve all been snagged by try-hard freshmen who need money like me.”

“I distinctly recall you being a try-hard freshman who also needed money,” you tell him. “That’s why you applied to work at the call center, isn’t it?”

Jungkook sits up, the weight of his figure crushing your legs as he rests on top of them. If you stayed like this forever, you’d probably lose feeling in your lower body, but you’d also get to stay with Jungkook forever, which is a trade-off you would genuinely consider. “Yeah, but the call center hires everybody. You just need to be like… decent at communication. And I’m pretty decent at communication.”

“You never text me back,” you tell him pointedly. 

“That’s because I prefer showing up unannounced at your apartment or other places you frequent,” Jungkook reminds you excitedly. He’ll never let you forget about the time you were wrapping up a small seminar with your history professor and Jungkook burst through the doors with a whole thing of carrots and hummus because you had texted him that you were hungry. You could not look your history professor in the eye for the rest of the semester. “I’d say that’s pretty decent communication.”

“Well, you’re going to have to figure out another way to market your decent communication skills to get another job,” you tell him. “Have you considered the boba place on Oak? You could get me employee discounts.”

Jungkook leans over just to pinch at your cheek, fingers gripping onto your face and pulling like a grandmother. “You just want me for my money.”

“You’re my best friend, Jeon Jungkook,” you tell him. “Of course I do.”

This is what Jeon Jungkook’s obligatory university Facebook group introduction post read:

Hi, I’m Jungkook and I’m thinking of majoring in visual studies or computer science (really different lol I know)! I played soccer in high school but don’t think I’ll be continuing in college because I was pretty bad at it. I’m looking for a roommate and I’d really like to live in New East House, but anything works for me as long as it has a bed. Hit me up if you think we’d made a good match, but I like talking with everyone lol. 

I’m really into music and can play the guitar, drums, and piano. I like listening to all types of music (yes, even country which slaps kinda hard sometimes) but my favorites are The 1975, Frank Ocean, Troye Sivan, and Khalid. Will bop to Justin Bieber on occasion as well. 

I play Ultimate and am really interested in joining the club team here so hit me up and we can practice sometime because my skills are a little rusty. I also do a little skateboarding but I am definitely not a skater. 

Hit me up if you think we can be friends lol I’m excited to meet you all!

It was accompanied by several pictures, a couple of which are selfies at that anime girl angle, one of him with his friends at prom all doing that Frat Boy pose, and a couple of him with his family. To an outsider doing a very quick glance, it pretty much reads the same as a rather extensive dating profile. 

The truth of it all is, as you were scrolling through the hundreds of obligatory university Facebook group introduction posts in search of a freshman year roommate, you stumbled upon Jungkook’s intro post and you thought this: No. Way.

The moment you laid eyes on his first above-the-head angle selfie, you knew that it would be unlikely that you and Jeon Jungkook’s paths would ever cross. He played guitar and did Ultimate Frisbee, and you wanted to audition for your university’s symphony orchestra. He was beautiful but in that sort of college frat boy who can crush you at beer pong kind of way. Craziest of all, he was a computer science major, and you were walking in as an undecided humanities concentration. 

Impossible. There was no way the two of you would ever meet, and you accepted that right off that bat. At a school your size, you would go through these four years not knowing a majority of your class. Jeon Jungkook was just one of the casualties. 

On the very first day of orientation, Jeon Jungkook comes up to you on the sidewalk, wearing a white t-shirt, a backwards baseball cap, and shorts, and asks you if you’re here for orientation as well? He’s lost. 

Jeon Jungkook is the type of guy you imagine getting eaten up by any girl who meets him almost immediately. He’s charming and endearing the same way a baby deer is, but has no problem wearing clothes that remind you of how fit he is. He is, for lack of a better term, extremely good looking. 

“Yeah,” you had said on the sidewalk, squinting to look up at him since the sun was in your eyes. “I’m heading to the auditorium right now. Wanna walk with me?”

“Okay, sure,” Jungkook had replied, smiling with all of his teeth. Even in the sweaty summer heat, he looked even nicer in person. “Thanks, by the way. I’m Jungkook. What’s your name?”

You knew that already. How could you have forgotten? 

You had grinned up at him. The universe has always worked in mysterious ways. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

When Jungkook doesn’t know what to do, he stress eats. Most often, you are the single witness to this action, which has literally no effect on his body mass whatsoever since he immediately burns off every calorie (and then some) at his next gym session. 

That is precisely why you are sitting in the second-best dining hall on campus eating a pretty measly salad and french fries, while Jungkook returns from the serve-yourself cafeteria with his sixth plate of food. Next to you is your mutual friend Chaewon, a filthy rich international student from Korea who is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met. 

“I think I’ve called every cafe, bubble tea shop, clothing store, and paid internship within a five-mile radius of this place and nothing,” Jungkook says with a sigh, keeping Chaewon updated with his job-search antics. It’s been several days since he was fired, and while being keenly cognizant of your bank account isn’t necessarily a bad thing, when it means that Jungkook refuses to leave campus because he is in hyper-saving mode, it sort of rustles your jimmies. 

“Have you tried babysitting?” Chaewon supplies helpfully. 

You laugh aloud at the mere thought of Jungkook stuck in some middle-aged parent’s house with their toddler for hours on a night where he could be living it up on campus. Jeon Jungkook? A babysitter?

“Wow, what the heck is wrong with me being a babysitter?” Jungkook questions, offended. 

“First of all, you don’t even let me beat you in Mario Kart on your Switch and I am your best friend. If you ended up gaming with a four-year-old boy, your over-competitiveness would take over you and you’d crush the poor kid and his spirit,” you remind him pointedly. Not to mention the fact that the man cannot cook to save his life, and you can’t even entrust him with microwave dinners because of his irrational fear of modern oven technology. 

Jungkook pouts. He knows you’re right. 

“It’s not like you were going to look into babysitting, anyway,” you say with a shove, nudging his shoulder with your own. 

Jungkook sighs, and despite all of the shit you give him on a daily basis (part of the responsibility of being his best friend), you do genuinely feel bad for him. Even if his job at the call center wasn’t the most intellectually stimulating nor morally rewarding, he didn’t absolutely hate it and he made a pretty decent earning off of it. He unzips his backpack and fumbles for his laptop, opening it up to reveal a Google Chrome window with approximately thirty-seven tabs open of places to work on and around campus. Meanwhile, Chaewon’s phone buzzes on the table, and she heaves out a great, exasperated exhale before picking up and immediately launching off into incredibly speedy Korean. 

“If only the bubble tea place was hiring,” you lament, kissing goodbye all of the free bubble tea you had been dreaming about if Jungkook got hired. 

“I’m glad I don’t work at the bubble tea place,” Jungkook tells you with his eyebrows raised, “otherwise I’d have to see you every day!” 

“You already see me every day!” You should back, but it’s not like Jungkook doesn’t know that already. He’s the one always barging into your apartment or sitting down next to you in the library when you’re trying to study. 

“But maybe you should try drinking less bubble tea, otherwise you’re gonna blow up like a tapioca pearl like that one girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” Jungkook warns, pinching your cheek as if to make your face round like a tapioca bubble. 

“I can think of nothing I’d want more than to be a tapioca pearl for the rest of my life,” you state simply. It would be much less stressful than to be a college student. 

“If you were a tapioca pearl, I’d eat you!” Jungkook says, and you, out of the security of both your head and your heart, choose not to think too much into it. 

As Jungkook teases you about your slight obsession with bubble tea, Chaewon finally puts the phone down after what very well was several minutes of angry Korean. She lets out this deep, long sigh, like all of the pent-up rage within her is exiting through her exhale. 

“You good, Chae?” You ask her, a little concerned. Even after knowing her since the beginning of your freshman year, you’ve never once seen her get mad, though she looks pretty close to it now. 

“Yeah,” she says, exasperated. “My mom is having this stupid company ball here and she really, really wants me to attend.” It is obvious that Chaewon does not, in fact, want to attend. You’ve seen Chaewon nearly every day for over a year, and you’ve never even seen her wear a pantsuit. You couldn’t imagine her joy at having to dress up in a ballgown. 

“But fancy free food,” you point out. Even if she does have to be trapped in a penthouse ballroom with her parents’ stuffy business friends, the catering company will probably be god-tier. 

Chaewon pretty much bangs her head on the dining hall table. 

“Wow, I didn’t know someone could hate catered food so much,” you say, a little alarmed. 

“It’s not that,” Chaewon says, rubbing her forehead. The pasta on the plate in front of her has remained untouched for nearly ten minutes now. You wonder if she’s even hungry anymore. “My mom wants me to bring a plus-one.”

Your eyes widen. An excuse to dress nice and eat good food? Hell yeah. 

“And it can’t be you, Y/N, it has to be a date,” Chaewon says. It’s pretty obvious she’s not interested in dating whatsoever, no matter the gender of the object of her affection. You pout. Damn. “My mom said, ‘he can be whoever you want!’ but that means that he has to be an attractive Korean guy who’s got a future job in finance.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jungkook says over a mouthful of broccoli. 

“You will?” Chaewon asks. Jungkook just single-handedly saved Chaewon from a night of unbearable business talk with a boy she doesn’t know and cannot relate to. 

You scoff. “You’re just a regular Korean dude, Jungkook,” you tell him. 

Jungkook pouts, bottom lip turned out. “You don’t think I’m attractive?”

You refuse to answer that question. You’re afraid of what you might say if you open your mouth. 

“Seriously, you’d do that for me?” Chaewon turns to Jungkook with platonic stars in her eyes. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Sure. I’ve got a suit. I’ll ask my friend Jimin for a crash course in finance before the thing. When is it?”

And just like that, you and Jungkook’s weekly Friday Mario Kart night gets a rain check. 

 Jeon Jungkook is the sole best decision of your life. 

And it’s funny and twisted and wonderful, because he is the one thing you had failed to account for in your life. He stands there on the sidewalk in the blazing sun, black baseball cap nestled safely onto his dark brown hair, and in the split second it takes for him to open his mouth and say hello, everything changes. 

But no longer is the image you conjure in your mind when you think of him a picture of him on that very first day of orientation, lost and excited all at once. It is of him barging into your apartment and eating all of your leftover ravioli. It’s him laying on your dinky couch like it belongs to him, surfing through all of the Netflix shows available and eventually just settling on old Gilmore Girls episodes like he always does. It’s him standing in your closet to judge your latest clothing purchases and take back any items that you’ve stolen from him over the years. 

It’s imagining him not as a guest but as a permanent fixture in your home, in the place that makes you feel safest. Because that’s who Jungkook is, now. He is that place. He stands in your apartment rattling off a list of why microwaves are a severely underestimated killer, and it takes every inch of your being not to ask him to stay. To spend night after night cuddling on the couch, or make a home-cooked meal together on a Sunday evening, or get lost underneath the sheets on your bed.

Jungkook stands in your apartment like he belongs there. And only in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine that coming true.

Such is the case of that Friday night, when he’s supposed to accompany Chaewon to her terrible, awful, brain-melting parents’ business gala. You haven’t seen him all day, too busy with your club meetings to make time for him after your classes are finished for the week. College is never-ending in that horrible, unstoppable way. 

It’s nearing two in the morning when you hear the knock on your door. Two of your roommates are at a rush event for their sorority, and the other sleeps through your smoke alarm on a regular basis, so you are tasked with the job of opening the door. 

On the other side is Jungkook, as he frequently is. 

Your heart practically freezes in place, like his eyes have shot right through it. Instead of his usual baggy outfit and a bucket hat, he’s standing outside of your apartment in a crisp navy suit (complete with a pocket square), rings lining his fingers and hair tousled in that effortlessly-styled kind of way. He looks like a goddamn celebrity, like a young, successful CEO. Like the love of your whole fucking life. 

Coughing to distract from the fact that you’re practically drooling, you say, “Wow, you clean up nicely.”

Jungkook looks down at himself, almost as if he had forgotten he’s wearing a full suit entirely. “The pocket square is Jimin’s,” he explains, “but yeah. I didn’t want to let Chaewon down by not dressing up to code.”

He’s got remnants of makeup left on his face, having faded and smudged throughout the night. There’s a bit of black underneath his eyes from the liner, a smoldering effect that makes the dark brown of his irises even deeper. “You look tired,” you comment. “Why are you here, why don’t you go home, Jungkook? Get some sleep.”

Jungkook shrugs, looking over your shoulder to see if his arrival has woken up any of your roommates. “Your place was closer,” he says like it’s nothing. 

Like it doesn’t make your breath catch in your throat, stop in its tracks. He spends an evening dressed up in a stuffy suit and tie surrounded by old businessmen and their preppy daughters with whom he has nothing in common, and when it’s nearly two in the morning and he can finally relax, he drives to your place instead of his own. Like it means nothing. As if it means anything at all. 

Jungkook runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, and even knotted and messy it still looks flawless. “If I’m bothering you, just let me know. I know it’s late.”

It’s so hard to say no to him. 

“Just come inside already before you wake up the neighbors,” you tell him, sighing to pretend like it’s a minor inconvenience. And even running on barely any sleep with makeup smudged underneath his eyes, Jungkook grins as you let him inside your apartment, caving in, just like you always do. 

The first thing he does when he’s inside is take off his fancy loafers and peel off his suit jacket, resting it against the back of the couch. You fumble around in the kitchen for the kettle, instinctively starting to make two cups of tea. Routine. 

Looking up, you watch as Jungkook loosens his tie and takes it off, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his white dress shirt. By the counter, you turn your back to him so he doesn’t see you mentally combust. It’s impossible that he doesn’t already know what he does to you. 

The kettle finishes boiling the moment Jungkook settles onto your couch. He keeps the television off so he doesn’t wake your roommates, and scrolls on his phone with his knees tucked underneath his chin. Thirty seconds later, you’re joining him, handing him the cup of tea before sitting down next to him, severely underdressed in comparison. 

“Did you at least have fun tonight?” You ask. 

“The food totally slapped,” Jungkook tells you. “Chaewon’s parents really pulled out all the stops.”

“So I’ve heard,” you muse. 

“We spent most of the time lounging by the catering table and distracting each other by making up stories about all of the rich people there.” Jungkook laughs. 

“Please tell me you didn’t embarrass yourself, though,” you say. Perhaps Jungkook could withstand a few blows to his ego, but Chaewon’s future pretty much depends on her impressing her parents and their comrades. 

“No!” Jungkook tells you defensively. “Jimin told me everything I needed to know, but all of Chaewon’s friends and their filthy rich CEO parents thought I was so handsome that I didn’t even need to speak.”

You roll your eyes. Of course Jungkook wouldn’t give up the chance to remind you of his hellishly good looks. 

“You just stood there, looking pretty?” You ask. Not as if he doesn’t do that already. 

“You think I’m pretty?” Jungkook teases, a greasy smile sent your way, like he doesn’t know the answer anyway. 

You huff. “Dressed up like this? Anyone would.”

“Chaewon said I was like her fake trophy husband,” Jungkook jokes. “She did all of the schmoozing. It’s not like I could have contributed anything anyway. Unless everyone wants to hear about C++.”

“Ooh, I love it when you talk all tech to me,” you tease, nudging him with your arm. “So sexy, keep talking.”

He laughs. “If we keep talking about Python I might get a little too excited.” He wiggles his eyebrows just for good measure and you giggle, holding onto this moment for dear life as you let it etch itself into your brain permanently. Times like these, you know you can’t forget, saving them for a rainy day thirty years down the line when you’re in love with someone that’s not Jungkook. When you look out the window and think about what might have been, if only things back in college had been a little bit different. 

Jungkook’s phone buzzes on the table. He’s got two notifications, one from Instagram of Chaewon tagging him in a post, and another from Venmo. 

“Fuckin’ damnit,” Jungkook swears, letting his phone drop on the couch cushion. 

“What?” You ask, turning to look at him. 

“Chaewon just Venmo’ed me a hundred dollars,” Jungkook says with a sigh. And it’s not one of those times when you see your bank account balance go up and get happy because yay, money!, it’s when your friend pays you anything over what they actually owe you out of the goodness of your heart, and you refuse to accept it. 

“She did?” You ask, eyes widening. A hundred dollars? That’s more than Jungkook would make in three shifts at the call center. 

“‘Thanks for bailing me out tonight. You definitely deserve more than 100 but then you’d be mad at me. But please don’t be mad at me!’” Jungkook reads off his phone. “I just stood there looking like eye candy. I didn’t do a thing to help her, what the heck?”

You pull out your own phone to check Chaewon’s latest post. 

It’s a picture of them together in the skyscraper penthouse the gala was held in, Jungkook looking dapper in his suit with a glass of champagne in his hand, and Chaewon in a dress worth more than a semester’s tuition throwing up a peace sign like the trendy Asian she is. They look like a K-drama couple. Like two celebrities basking in their fame and wealth. 

Shoutout to my one and only Jeon Jungkook for being my fake date tonight! Thanks to your good looks and charming personality for impressing all of my parents’ rich friends and their daughters. Love you 3000 💕

“Wow, whoever took this picture of the both of you knows their shit,” you say, impressed. You had always thought it impossible for Jungkook to look better in pictures than in real life, but this photo is coming rather close. If you were any more shameless, you’d ask Chaewon if she has any more photos of him. Just him, preferably. 

It’s not as if she doesn’t know about your gargantuan crush on him anyway. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever looked that good in a photo in my life,” Jungkook says with a laugh. Impossible. He yawns, placing his empty mug on the little end table next to the couch. 

“You should set it as your profile picture,” you suggest, leaning your head on him and pretending like this is normal. He yawns again, stretching out as he rests his body against yours. “Hey, we should go to sleep. Unless you want to go home?”

Jungkook groans, snuggling in closer. “No, your bed is big enough for the two of us.”

And who are you to resist?

You wake up to the sound of a phone buzzing furiously on your bedside table. You crack open one eye just a sliver to see who the culprit is and immediately eradicate it, when the sun filtering through your Venetian blinds hits your cornea. You groan, shutting your eyes once more as you smack your hand around to get it to shut off. 

The movement, however, causes the bedsheets to shift beside you, and when you turn, you find Jungkook nestled up tightly beneath your duvet, an arm stretched over your side as he hums in his sleep. 

You’re best friends. 

This is normal. 

(The feeling of your heart beating out of its chest has become rather normal, as well.)

He’s wearing a raggedy old t-shirt of yours that has always been too big on you but fits him just perfectly and a pair of joggers that he keeps at your place “just in case”. Just in case he stays the night. Just in case you ever need them. Selfishly, you will yourself to fall back asleep, shutting your eyes tightly and pretending that maybe, if you never wake up, this moment will freeze in time, locking the two of you together for eternity. 

He mumbles to himself in his sleep, a murmur of nothing as he shifts over slightly, hand dragging up your side. 

God. 

Next to you, the phone begins to buzz erratically again, and wide-awake, you look over to realize that it’s Jungkook’s, and that it’s Chaewon on the other end. 

This is at least the second time she’s called, which means that, despite how tempting it is, you probably shouldn’t silence his phone and go back to lying in bed with Jungkook and pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist. 

Sighing, you pick up. 

“Jungkook!” Chaewon shouts on the other side. For a brief moment you wonder why on earth she’s so energetic so early, but it’s less that and more the fact that you are overwhelmingly lethargic rather late in the day. “All of my friends said you looked really good in those photos I posted of us. Do you think you’re free next Wednesday night? Seunghee wants you to accompany her to a double date her parents are forcing her to go on!”

“Chaewon—”

“Oh, Y/N! How’s it going?”

“I just woke up,” you mumble quietly as Jungkook stirs beside you. 

“Of course you did,” Chaewon says, and you can see her rolling her eyes on the other side of the line. “Wait, why do you have Jungkook’s phone if you just woke up? Oh my God, don’t tell me—”

“Shh!” You hiss into the phone. Jungkook is slowly beginning to wake up, and you can only pray that he isn’t listening in to the conversation between you and Chaewon. “No, we did not. He got back after your thing and we promptly passed out in my bed, fully clothed,” you whisper loudly. 

“Jungkook went to your place last night? He was so tired, I thought he was going straight back to his. We even got dropped off outside my apartment.”

What? Chaewon and Jungkook live within a three-minute walk of each other. Your apartment is ten minutes away from both of them. 

“You did?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Who’s that?” 

You turn around to see Jungkook lying on his back, head resting on a nearly-deflated pillow of yours as he looks up at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair is mussed, some parts styled and stiff with hair gel, and some parts tangled and unkempt. He looks like he’s been lying in that position for a while, hand resting behind his head as he gazes up at you. 

“It’s Chaewon,” you tell him softly as she laughs on the other end. “She just called your phone. Are you free next Wednesday?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook, still half-asleep. “When?”

“Next Wednesday,” you repeat, a hand on the phone like it’s going to do anything to stop Chaewon from listening to you two. “Chaewon says she has a friend who wants you to accompany her to a double date she’s been set up to go on by her parents.”

“Mmmrph,” Jungkook mumbles. It’s clear he hasn’t even thought about his plans for the rest of the day, let alone next Wednesday. 

“He’s not available right now,” you say into the phone. Chaewon snorts. 

“Fine,” Chaewon says with a sigh. “Can you pass the message on when you guys are done pretending that you aren’t fucking behind my back?”

You suck in a breath. “Chaewon!” You hiss. “We are not—” you quickly turn back to Jungkook, who, by the looks of his hooded eyes and bewildered expression, isn’t listening in, “—fucking!” You whisper. “You know we’re not!”

Chaewon laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Call me later, Y/N, we should grab ice cream or something.” She hangs up. 

“Who was that?” Jungkook asks sleepily, eyes still half-lidded as he sits up in your bed, soft skin, brown hair, pouted lips amongst a sea of white, bundled up in your thick duvet as if sitting on a cloud. 

“Chaewon,” you tell him. 

“Oh, why was she calling?”

“She wanted to ask if you were free next Wednesday.”

“To do what?”

Maybe you were worried about Jungkook listening in to Chaewon grill you about your relationship (or serious lack thereof) for nothing. 

“She has a friend who wants you to go on a parent-mandated double date, trophy boyfriend style,” you explain. Jungkook groans. 

“Pretending to know business is mentally, physically, and morally draining. It feels like I’m selling my soul to capitalism,” he says with a sigh, collapsing back against the mattress. “I just wanna stay here forever. It’s so cozy.”

“Come on, Kook,” you say, tugging the duvet off of him to reveal the rest of his body. He curls into himself at the exposure, refusing to budge. “You’ve encroached on my apartment long enough.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook whines, drawing out your name for good measure. “Noooooooo.” He reaches out to cling onto your wrist, which means that if you want him out of your bed, you’ll have to drag him out.

“Jungkook, you’re swole, you know I can’t tug you out of my bed,” you say with a pout. He knows every trick in the book to use against you, and worst of all, he knows you’re weak to all of them. 

“Good,” Jungkook says with a loopy smile, pulling you back onto the bed like it’s nothing. You yelp as you come crashing on top of him, your body bumping into his as he wraps his arms around you and flops back onto your bed. You laugh and shout at the feeling as Jungkook cuddles up in the warmth of the sheets, pulling you in tightly to his body. “It’s so warm here, let’s stay like this forever.”

“What about food?”

“You keep a stash of Clif bars under your bed, we’ll eat those,” Jungkook suggests. 

You attempt to wriggle out of his grip, hoping to escape before he holds you long enough to get addicted, hooked on the feeling of his arms around you, his body against yours. But Jungkook is nothing if not persistent and clingy, and he wraps his arms tightly around your torso like a koala, warm and soft. “Come on, Jungkook. It’s nearly noon. Let’s be productive today.”

“Gross.”

“Let’s not sit in bed all day.”

“Grosser. Let’s just stay in your bed all day and pretend that we don’t have any real responsibilities.”

“Given that we’re in college, that may be slightly difficult.”

“Fuck that, your GPA doesn’t matter anyway. Unless you have plans on going to grad school?” He asks with an eyebrow raise, turning to look at you. 

“No way, I’m not paying for another four years of this shit,” you immediately declare. Let the capitalist system of higher education extort another two to four years worth of tuition out of you for the same degree? Absolutely not. 

“Then why move?” Jungkook says with a grin. 

“Because,” you say, stumbling for a real answer. 

“Not good enough.” He grins cheekily. “I vote to stay in bed.”

“I vote to do my readings, your CS homework, and get back to Chaewon about Wednesday.”

“God,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “What’s Wednesday?”

“Oh my God, you need to call Chaewon. Right now. Before you ask me what you have on Wednesday one more time after losing all of your brain cells lounging around in my personal bed and refusing to leave,” you say, eyes wide as you worm your way out of his grip, dusting yourself off and heading to your closet. 

“Noooooooo,” Jungkook says, reaching out a desperate hand. “Y/N, come back.”

“Call Chaewon. Call her!” You order, fishing around in your closet for some fresh clothes. You’ve been wearing the same one since Thursday night. You are disgusting. 

Jungkook groans but obeys, picking up his phone and pressing her contact. “Hey Chae, it’s Jungkook. Listen, I’m literally going to Venmo you back what you paid me because you? Literally didn’t need to pay me at all? And I’m actually mad at you for it? Wait, what do you mean am I up to getting paid on Wednesday—”

The phone call presents the perfect opportunity for you to dash out of your bedroom and into the bathroom, where you splash yourself with cold tap water like a model in a face wash commercial (who already has perfect skin, so why does she need this new face wash, seriously?) to clear your head. It’s been a weird twelve hours. Even weirder knowing that across the hall, Jungkook is sitting in your room, on your bed, in your clothes, under your bed sheets. Knowing that maybe, in another universe, on another timeline, you would be in the exact same positions, only everything would be different. 

You wash your face, hoping to wake yourself up. Convince your mind that the past twelve hours have been nothing but a dream, and that when you walk back into your room, Jungkook will have vanished. Or he would have never been there in the first place. 

You leave the bathroom and return to your bedroom to see Jungkook tugging on his suit jacket, wearing the same clothes he had on when he knocked on your door at 2AM last night. He’s still on the phone, wrapping up the conversation with Chaewon. 

“Yeah, yeah, tell her that I’m down. She can just text me, give her my number. I’m happy to do this for you and your friends, Chae. Plus, she’s gonna pay me and I feel less bad about it because it’s a service and she’s not a close friend like you are. Yeah, it’s all good,” he looks up to see you standing at the door, leaning against the frame. “Yeah, Y/N just got back so I’m gonna go. Maybe we can grab dinner or something tonight? Cool. Bye.”

“Dinner without me?” You ask with a pout. 

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. “You’re always invited.”

“Have you figured out what’s going on on Wednesday?” You tease him as you walk him to the door. 

“Chaewon has a friend, Soojin, who wants me to accompany her on a parent-mandated double date with a business partner’s daughter,” Jungkook explains. “Apparently all of Chaewon’s friends realized I make a pretty good fake trophy boyfriend.”

You rub his shoulder. He’d make a great real boyfriend too. Not that you think about that all of the time, or anything. “Gonna put that on your resume, big guy?”

“Of course.” Jungkook smiles. “Dinner tonight? We can go to the ramen place you really like.”

“Sure thing, is Chaewon coming?”

“If she wants to. Otherwise, it’ll just be us.”

“Sounds good,” you tell him. “See you then.”

“Hopefully before,” Jungkook says. “Thanks for letting me crash here last night, by the way.”

“Anytime,” you say. Maybe one day, it’ll be true. 

Next Wednesday, there’s a knock on your door at midnight. 

Who else could it be?

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. And then it was supposed to be just a two-time thing. And before you knew it, Jungkook’s number and his services were circling through the ring of wealthy international students, jumping from phone to phone as people crammed to get him to accompany them on their next double date, next business gala, next ballroom dance. 

You had always had a feeling that his charming, charismatic personality would eventually draw everybody towards him, so electric and magnetic that you couldn’t help but want to know him, make friends with him, be close to him. From the moment you saw his Facebook introduction post, you knew it was only a matter of time before everyone on campus knew his name.

[October 17th, 4:12PM] You: do u want to get dinner tonight

Jungkook: would love to but have to go to kim family business dinner with dahyun sorry :(

You: ok next time then!

[October 23rd, 1:03PM]

You: yo what r u doing You: i have so many readings to do rip You: do u wanna come to greene w me and study

Jungkook: heejin is taking me shopping for a fancy suit for her family’s event tomorrow i can’t :/ Jungkook: but i am going to get macaroons for u at the mall so we can see each other later!

You: yummm sure thing!

[October 30th, 9:58AM]

You: hey ik you’re asleep rn but we are still on for tomorrow right? 🎃 You: can’t let our one (1) year long halloween tradition of buying last-minute candy and watching the nightmare before christmas together die

[October 30th, 11:13PM]

Jungkook: omg i just saw this now im so sorry Jungkook: uh yeonjoo wants me to go to her sister’s halloween party tm so idk if i can make it this year

[October 31st, 2:02AM]

You: ok You: thanks for telling me

It’s no fun watching The Nightmare Before Christmas by yourself, you realize this Halloween. All of your roommates are out frequenting one of the hundreds of parties being thrown on campus tonight, and although you’d normally be up for getting drunk and dropping it low, you just aren’t in the Halloween spirit this year. Wonder why. 

Armed with the knowledge that your roommates probably won’t be back until three or four in the morning, you shut your laptop and decide to go to bed early. Early being midnight, but it’s early for you and that’s all that really matters. 

You don’t know why you’re being such a stick in the mud this Halloween. It’s always been one of your favorite holidays, never one to pass up free candy nor the option to dress up, but this one has been particularly lame. You don’t have a costume, your local drugstore is out of mini Skittles packets, and you don’t have someone to spend it with. 

Realistically, you have no reason to be sad that Jungkook isn’t available tonight. It’s not as if spending Halloween together is some ancient tradition from birth that binds the two of you together. You did it for the first time as freshmen, and you were foolishly hoping to do the same thing as sophomores. It’s not a tradition if it only happened once. 

You look in the bathroom mirror, stained with nail polish and dry shampoo and old skincare, and you sigh. Jungkook has every right to prioritize his current and only source of income over a night spent lounging on the couch doing nothing. It’s not as if you haven’t seen your best friend in over a month and this was the only night you both had free. Jungkook drops by after every single event he goes on. Every single one. He stands outside your door dressed in a fancy suit, or a silk button down, leather shoes and expensive jewelry bought for him by the girls he goes out with.

No matter the time, he knocks on your door and says hello, steals a cup of tea and a bit of your heart along with it, before bouncing out of your living room and off to his own apartment. He doesn’t stay the night anymore, doesn’t worm his way underneath your duvet and refuse to move until morning comes. It’s hard to tell if you’re grateful about it or not. 

Sluggishly, you peel off your clothes and wash your face, changing into some old sweatpants from the tenth grade and a t-shirt with an embarrassingly large hole in the armpit. This Halloween, you are dressing up as a lonely college student who is going to bed early on Halloween night because she has nothing better to do!

There’s a knock on your door. 

Your first instinct is to freeze up. When there’s another knock, your second instinct is to grab the closest object to you (which happens to be your water bottle) for self-defense. 

And then, you hear,

“You’re not watching The Nightmare before Christmas without me, are you?”

To spare yourself the shame, you won’t say that you practically leapt out of bed the moment you heard his voice. You calmly removed the covers, and casually walked to the front door. That is what you did. 

When you open it, Jungkook is standing behind it, grinning, wearing the greasiest police officer outfit you’ve ever seen in your entire life. This flew at a marketing company’s heir’s Halloween party? He’s even got what looks to be a fully-loaded water gun in his holster. 

“Don’t tell me this is what you wore to some fancy-shmancy Halloween party,” you say disapprovingly, eyebrows raised as you look him up and down and pretend that you aren’t just ogling his figure. 

“It was fine, Yeonjoo’s sister just graduated college. If anything, she was more okay with it than Yeonjoo was,” Jungkook says with a shrug. You don’t even need to let him in at this point, just watch as he tugs off his shoes and steps inside your apartment like it belongs to him. 

“What was Yeonjoo dressed as?”

“Princess Leia. We made for a very mismatched pair,” Jungkook says, chuckling to himself. “Ooh, did you guys get new tea?”

“You can have some if you want,” you tell him, shutting the door as he eagerly pulls out a box of teabags, turning on the electric kettle on the counter. “I think it’s Wild Berry Hibiscus.”

“Sounds good already,” Jungkook says, and he lets out a sigh that sounds so exhausted, so tired and aching, as he leans back against the countertop, head resting on the cupboards above it. 

“You could have gone home, you know,” you tell him. Even from the couch you can see the droop in his shoulders, the bags under his eyes. He’s been going out several times every week for the past month, and he still has a truckload of CS assignments on top. He spends precious hours schmoozing with wealthy businessmen and women, shaking people’s hands and posing for pictures in the fanciest clothes he owns and then some. The selfish part of you wants him to stay. The part that loves him knows it would be better if he went home. “You still can.”

“No,” Jungkook insists, shaking his head. “We have a tradition to uphold, don’t we?”

Even though The Nightmare Before Christmas is seventy-six minutes long, the night ends long before that. You haven’t even reached “This Is Halloween” before you feel a head hit your shoulder, and crane your neck to find Jungkook having fallen fast asleep beside you, half-full cup of Wild Berry Hibiscus next to the laptop in front of you. He’s still wearing his stupid police officer costume, the navy blue uniform tight against his body. His lips are parted ever so softly, eyelashes fluttering as little non-sounds exit his mouth, hints, whispers of snores. 

He hasn’t slept over since the first time. You’re not sure if you want the trend to continue, or if you just want to be a little bit selfish tonight, greedy, taking and taking and taking. He’s so beautiful like this, so innocent and gentle and soft. It would be such a shame if you had to wake him. 

And so, gingerly, you rest your head against his own, breathe in the quiet little sounds that leave his parted lips, memorize the feeling. It’s not the first time Jungkook’s accidentally fallen asleep on you, but there is something about this moment, sitting on your couch a few minutes past midnight, as the rest of the world celebrates around you, that is so intimate. Like here, in your apartment, you and Jungkook have your own little bubble, tucked away in a corner of the universe far from the noise of the rest of the world. And it’s here that you wish you could stay forever, for once never wanting the feeling to end. Wanting time to freeze in its very steps, the clocks stop and the orbit halts, and it is just you and Jungkook, forever. Like characters in a movie, on pause for eternity.

The moment ends when Jungkook shifts beside you before eventually coming to, slowly opening his eyes as he turns to look at you. You smile at him, dazed and tired, as he sits up properly, staring down at your half-opened laptop and the half-full cup of tea next to it. 

“Thought you’d end up sleeping here again tonight,” you joke, even though it isn’t really a joke. Maybe, somewhere deep down inside you, in the crevices between your bones and the dark corner of your heart, you had hoped that he would stay. 

“Oh, did I fall asleep?” Jungkook asks, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. It’s nearly two-thirty in the morning. 

“Just for a bit. I didn’t want to wake you, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to head back to your apartment or anything,” you tell him. 

Jungkook nearly jumps up off the couch at that, like he’s got springs in his shoes. Suddenly he’s wide awake, brown eyes blown open as he scrambles to gather his belongings, taking the cup of tea and quickly dumping it out in your sink. 

“Hey, don’t you want that?” You ask. 

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll come by some other time and have some, it was really good, I just fell asleep while drinking it,” Jungkook sputters, words moving a mile a minute as he tugs on his heavy black officer boots, scuffed at the tips from wear and tear. It’s as if he’s desperate to leave. Like your apartment has somehow offended him. Or worse, you. 

“If you want to stay, Jungkook, you can,” you tell him, standing up to run to the door before he pulls the damn thing off his hinges with how fast he’s moving. “I don’t mind. My bed is big enough for the both of us.”

“No, I should—I should get going. My… plants need watering. Right now. I totally forgot.”

It’s not a completely bullshit excuse. Jungkook has a fair few pothos amongst his other worldly apartment belongings, hanging from his ceiling or potted in old mugs and janky shoes. But it’s still a pretty bullshit excuse. It’s dark. Jungkook waters his plants every Sunday, and it’s Friday. It’s obvious he wants to get the hell out of your apartment for whatever reason. 

All you can do is hope and pray that it isn’t you who’s driving him away. 

“Oh—okay,” you tell him, opening the door as he furiously laces up his other boot. 

“Thanks for doing this. Next Halloween will be more fun, I swear. I won’t fall asleep on you. Or anything.”

“Okay, see you soon, then?” You ask, searching for a clue, a hint, anything that will tell you that it’s not you, that he hasn’t found you out yet. That you can still be friends, be best friends, because even if you want to kiss him, hold his hand, roll around in bed with him, loving him from afar is good enough. 

“Yes, yes, definitely. Dinner? Uh… sometime this week? I’ll text you. I have to go. Plants. See you!”

He dashes down the hallway. 

And you end your Halloween the same way you started it. Alone. 

Jungkook ran out of your apartment the other day like it was infested with cockroaches. Or the Black Plague. Or your microwave had just beeped. It was as if simply being inside it was going to scar him for life. 

Maybe your apartment is cursed. Jungkook does believe in ghosts. That’s another reason as to why he fears the microwave. Tiny ghosts could be living inside the microwave chamber and you’d never know. But Jungkook knows better. He knows that they’re there. 

“He just… ran out?” Chaewon asks, clearly bewildered. The two of you have been working on the first floor of the library all day, obviously doing everything in your power to not actually complete any of your assignments. 

“Yeah, something about his plants.” You sigh. 

Chaewon narrows her eyes, the same way she does when she’s plotting something. “Interesting.”

“What?” You ask, nudging her to see if you can worm a less mysterious response out of her. 

“Nothing,” Chaewon says with a nonchalant shrug. She clearly has something to say. 

“What?” You repeat forcefully. Chaewon doesn’t get to go all cryptic on you just because Jungkook ran out of your apartment like it had set fire. 

“I know I’ve only known you guys for, like, a year and a bit now, but you two have the strangest relationship I’ve ever seen,” Chaewon comments like it’s nobody’s business when it is, in fact, specifically two people’s business. 

You scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just…” She pauses, thinking. In the silence, she begins to pack up her belongings, shoving her laptop into her bag and gathering up the small pile of candy wrappers slowly amassing in front of her. “I’ve never seen two best friends have a relationship quite like yours.”

“Thanks?”

“What are you doing for dinner? I’m eating with Yoonji, but you’re welcome to join if you want,” Chaewon offers. Even though you have no idea who Yoonji is, Chaewon would never exclude you from eating with them.

“I’m getting Korean food with Jungkook, but thanks for the offer,” you say, only to be greeted with Chaewon rolling her eyes. He said he’d meet us outside?”

Sure enough, when you head out of the glass doors at the front of the library, Jungkook is waiting dutifully on a bench close by, headphones in as he nods his head and taps his feet to the beat of the music, lost in his own world. He doesn’t even realize that you’ve left the library until you’re two feet in front of him, when he recognizes your beat-up white sneakers and looks up at you in glee, eyes crinkled into crescents. 

“Ready to go?” You ask happily. Your stomach has been rumbling ever since Jungkook suggested you go out to eat this morning. 

“Hell yeah I am,” Jungkook says, putting his earbuds away as he stands up. “You coming, Chae?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m eating with a friend.” There’s nudge against your shoulder, and when you turn to face her, she winks. “But you two enjoy yourselves! Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Before you can publicly berate her for being so goddamn obvious, she’s rotating 180 degrees on her heel and speed-walking in the opposite direction, zooming off so you don’t get the chance. 

“I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages,” you comment mindlessly. Twenty-four hours away from Jungkook feels like a lifetime and a half. Forty-eight is a light year. 

“I’ve been busy,” Jungkook says vaguely, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Doing what, going out to fancy restaurants and galas?” You half-tease. It’s sad but true—Jungkook spends his nights living a life you could only dream of. And all of these rituals you share, from studying in the library until three in the morning to crashing at his place and taking naps on separate couches, get put on the backburner. 

“Hey, it’s hard work pretending to be rich,” Jungkook pouts. “Besides, the craziest thing about going to those things is that rich Korean people don’t serve Korean food at their fancy gatherings. They serve shit like caviar.”

“Is that why you’re so desperate to get Korean?” You ask pointedly. 

“Yes,” Jungkook emphasizes. “Man, I just want some tteokbokki.”

“Then we’ll go and eat all of the tteokbokki you can dream of,” you promise. You round the street corner and on the edge of the main road and an alleyway sits a tiny Korean restaurant the size of a bedroom, no more than six cramped tables inside. It’s run by a family who passes it down through each generation, dependent on the starving college students nearby to keep it alive. 

It’s Jungkook’s favorite place. The owner gives him a discount every time he sees him. 

(It’s impossible not to fall in love with Jungkook. Impossible to not be drawn to his presence, his personality. Like moths to a flame, you can’t help but come closer.)

“Ah, Jungkook!” The old man behind the counter greets as the bell above the entrance rings. “Sit! Sit!” He points to your favorite table, a round one in the far left corner that’s right next to the biggest window. “Usual?”

“Tteokbokki, too, please!” Jungkook shouts. The man gives you both a thumbs up and heads back into the kitchen. 

“It’s been a while since we came here,” Jungkook notices. You both usually eat lunch on campus and Jungkook has been largely unavailable for dinner. 

“Almost sounds like you missed it,” you poke fun. 

“God, I missed it so much,” Jungkook exclaims, tilting his head back in exasperation. “I didn’t realize that it would be so much work to get dressed up in a suit and look hot.”

“Don’t make it sound like such a drag.” You frown. Jungkook needs to put in literally zero effort to look hot. Sitting across from him in this tiny Korean restaurant as he wears nothing but a massive hoodie and black joggers, he looks hot. When he wakes up in your bed in a raggedy t-shirt, he looks hot. When you catch him at three in the morning in the library after eighteen straight hours of studying, he looks hot. 

Jungkook sits there and radiates light. Radiates warmth and joy and beauty. Laughter and hope. He’s the college version of a Disney prince. Perfectly imperfect and completely out of your reach. 

“I wish I could take you with me, you might enjoy it,” Jungkook sighs. “Plus, I have literally never seen you wear something fancier than business casual. Imagine you in a ballgown!”

“In your dreams, Jeon,” you rebuke. “Free catered food sounds nice but having to mingle with the 1% does not.”

“Touché,” Jungkook concedes. “I don’t know how Chaewon does it.”

“She’s a goddess.”

“Indeed.”

Jungkook pours you a cup of water from the pitcher that the old man dropped off, and then pours one for himself. “Chaewon said that I did well, though.”

Not surprising. Jungkook excels at everything he does. 

“Of course you did, you sexy beast,” you chide. 

“She said I’d make a good boyfriend.”

You choke on your water as the man’s son brings out your food, and you desperately attempt to avoid eye contact as you sputter and cough into a napkin, gaze pointed away from both a surprised waiter and a concerned Jungkook, who awkwardly thanks the man and leans over to pat your back. 

“You good?” He asks, brows furrowed. 

Coughing, you say, “I’m okay, I’m okay. It just—it went down the wrong pipe, that’s all.” Jungkook doesn’t buy it, and the little coughs escaping your throat don’t do much to corroborate your claim. “Seriously, Jungkook. I’m okay. It’s just water.”

“You looked like you were on the verge of death,” Jungkook frowns. 

“That’s just my face,” you fire back. “Just keep talking about what you were saying earlier. What was it?”

“Being a good boyfriend,” Jungkook says, and with no water near your lips to distract you this time, your mind bears the full force of his words, weighing down on your shoulders like a calculus textbook. 

It’s not as if you aren’t already aware that Jungkook would be the best boyfriend in the entire world, bar none. Not as if you don’t sit in bed and dream of a parallel universe, a life other than the one you’re living in right now, where Jungkook is lovely and wonderful and yours. He knocks on your door at a random hour in the afternoon with Chinese takeout from the local restaurant. He remembers your homework assignments when you forget them. He sits in bed with you and judges the Instagrams of the guys on the latest Bachelorette season. It’s as if he was already yours.

“Believe me,” you scoff. “The people know how great of a boyfriend you are.” 

“It’s fake, though,” Jungkook reminds you. “It’s only for a night. An evening, really.”

“Better than nothing,” you sigh. “If only I had enough money to rent myself a fake boyfriend for a night.”

“If only your parents were the CEOs of a multibillion dollar cooperation,” Jungkook adds on. 

“Truth,” you say, and you and Jungkook toast to that. Toast to knowing that some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Toast to knowing that some of those people can get for themselves something you can only imagine in your wildest dreams—a night with Jungkook. More than just a night. A night spent dressed up in your fanciest clothes, arms wrapped tightly around each other. A night spent as a couple, rather than you and Jungkook. 

Toast to knowing that even if you’ll never get to have him like that, you get to have him like this, and you’d rather it be like this than nothing at all. 

“You don’t need to rent a fake boyfriend for a night, Y/N,” Jungkook tells you once you’ve downed the water in your glasses (stay hydrated!). “You shouldn’t feel pressured to spend time with people you don’t want to spend time with.”

You don’t understand, you sigh. I’d give anything to spend time with you. 

Jungkook pays. He says that he’s made more money accompanying wealthy socialites—even ones that don’t go to your school, because word gets around—than he would in a month’s worth of shifts at the call center. He says he’s never looking back. He’s probably not going to give up the gig for a while, either. 

“Just because you have cash now doesn’t mean you get a free pass to pay for everything we do together,” you warn. You’ve always split the price of meals, split the price birthday cakes for your friends. In the beginning of freshman year, Jungkook ate a quarter of a bag of goldfish you had and paid you fifty-three cents to account for his consumption, which you immediately sent back to him. You still fight over it, finding surreptitious ways to incorporate it into the Venmo payments you make to each other. 

“I’m rich, I can do whatever I want with my money,” Jungkook proclaims. “And if that means treating my best friend to a meal, then that means I’m gonna treat her to a meal.”

“That’s very rude of you,” you tell him pointedly. “Zero out of ten, worst best friend in the entire world. Will not accept my Venmo payments.”

Walking down the sidewalk, side by side, Jungkook wraps an arm around you and pulls you in for a side hug as you come to a stop at a traffic light. “You always do so much for me and Chaewon. You deserve to be treated once in a while, Y/N.”

“Why, ‘cause I go out to CVS at ten at night to get you Nyquil after you catch the common cold from some sweaty guy at the gym?” 

“That,” Jungkook nods, conceding, “and also because you’re one of the best friends anyone could ever ask for. The people who know you are lucky to get to say your name.”

If only Jungkook knew that he was the exact same. It’s an honor to know him. It’s a blessing to love him. 

“What fancy clothes do you own?” Chaewon’s lying on your bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone. 

“I don’t know,” you respond, brows furrowing. You get up from your desk chair to start fishing through your closet,  “I have, like, some business casual stuff.”

“How about a dress?”

You whip around suspiciously, eyeing Chaewon as she lounges around in your room and acts like she isn’t plotting something nefarious. “Don’t you think you could tell me what you’re trying to convince me to do before you ask me if I have the appropriate clothing?” 

Even lying on her back, Chaewon still manages to roll her eyes, sitting up to meet your gaze. “There’s a gala tonight to celebrate some big business deal being closed and I want you to come with me,” she says like it’s a chore, exasperated. 

“Me?” You frown. “Why not Jungkook?”

“He said he had some thing to do for some other girl,” Chaewon says. The topic clearly is not at the forefront of her mind. It’s a little too obvious that it’s at the forefront of yours. “Besides, I was given no date restrictions and you deserve to have a little fun tonight. It’s a Friday!”

“I just want to stay in bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you tell her. 

“You’re already out of bed,” Chaewon points out unhelpfully. 

“Well, then I want to get into bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you rephrase. 

Chaewon pouts. “Noooo, please? It’ll be fun, I swear,” Chaewon pleads.  “It’s a huge party and hundreds of people are going to be there. Everybody gets to bring a plus one. You won’t be the only person who doesn’t know anything about business and has to cling onto their date in order to survive.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me want to go so much,” you deadpan. 

“Seriously, Y/N. When was the last time you went out on a Friday?”

A while ago. You and Jungkook started having Mario Kart nights on Friday in the middle of your freshman year after you both came to the conclusion that every frat party smells, sounds, and tastes like the same fifty shades of college regret. You haven’t gone out since. 

“Not that long ago,” you lie. It’s been months.

“Yeah, right,” Chaewon scoffs. “Don’t think I don’t see your Bitmoji on the SnapMap sitting in your damn apartment on a Friday at 11PM,” she scolds.

“I’m gonna turn off my location,” you declare. You’ve had enough of Snapchat exposing you and your location. People can live in mystery about your whereabouts from now on. They don’t need to know. Chaewon certainly does not. 

“No excuses, you’re coming with me to the gala! You must have something to wear in that closet of yours, don’t you?” She slides off of your bed with a thud and joins you as you stand in front of your clothes. None of them scream fancy. None of them even whisper it. You stand back as she shuffles through your clothes, hangers squeaking as she shoves them along the rail. Chaewon tears through your clothing faster than you skim through your economics readings. “Aha! What do we have here?”

She whips out a dress from the very back of your closet, right behind the blazer you never wear because you’d rather be caught dead than in business attire. It’s old—you don’t think you’ve worn it since the beginning of your freshman year when you thought you actually had to dress up for parties. Needless to say, you dry-cleaned it the following Monday and never wore it again. You don’t even recall bringing it to college this year. 

“This is perfect!” Chaewon cries. “Really says ‘I can fucking dress myself’, don’t you think?”

“Are you implying that I can’t dress myself?” 

“You should definitely wear this,” Chaewon decides, dodging the question. “Gucci and Louis Vuitton are overrated, anyway.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I.” Chaewon thrusts the dress towards you.

Chaewon shakes her head. “Of course you don’t.” 

Three hours later finds you one makeup and hair session later, standing in the lobby of a magnificent skyscraper wearing a dress that maybe could have done without the cup of frozen yogurt that you ate before you arrived. Now you remember why you haven’t really worn it since the beginning of last year. Has it shrunk?

“I feel like a loser, Chaewon,” you hiss as she bats her eyelashes and gets directed to the private elevator that will lead you both to the top floor. “A money-less, jobless loser.”

“At least you’re honest, Y/N,” Chaewon whispers back as you step into the elevator. Despite being nearly an hour and a half late (“Fashionably so!” Chaewon exclaims.) you are crowded into the back corner, several other couples stepping inside to join you, all of them wearing clothes that cost more than your tuition for all four years of college, combined. “That’s better than most of the people here.”

Nothing separates the rich from the poor like morality. 

When the elevator doors open, you and Chaewon are the last group to step out, milling about in the corner until the path is free. And when you turn your gaze away from her, you realize just why Jungkook’s so keen on going to events like these, why he never turns down an offer when it lights up his phone screen. 

In movies, rich people flaunt their wealth so extravagantly that it almost looks fake. From gigantic ice sculptures to ten-feet-tall chocolate fountains, entire orchestras and dresses worth thousands of dollars, it makes you wonder if rich people really do see those items as necessities when throwing a party. They rent out entire European castles and the press publicizes every one of their actions. To you, it looks contrived, unrealistic. Even if rich people have enough money to sustain the bottom 99% for hundreds of years, how could they spend their money on nonsense like this?

As it turns out, the ice sculptures and chocolate fountains are only half of the story.

At this gala, the hosts have spared no expense. The entire penthouse is made purely of glass, from the ceiling, to the floor, to the walls in between, giving you an absolutely breathtaking view of the city lights dozens of feet below you, of the stars millions of light years away. It’s as if you’re standing in a bubble, frozen in time, the world sparkling and twinkling and shimmering around you. You didn’t even know a place like this existed on Earth. The price to book it must be astronomical. The view, even more so. 

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, mouth dropping open at the sight. It’s a movie come to life. It’s a picture straight out of a fairytale. 

“Pretty sweet, right?” Chaewon says, clearly proud of herself for convincing you to join her. “The Parks and the Ohs really felt like celebrating.”

“No shit,” you say, dumbfounded. Chaewon wraps her arm around yours and leads you out of the elevator, her poise and grace akin to that of a princess. She’s been to this place before. She could do this in her sleep. 

“Pictures first, then we eat, and then we mingle,” Chaewon instructs, and you nod diligently. She’s the only way you’re going to make it out of this night unscathed. Without her, you don’t know what you’d do. 

On the average day of an average life of an average person, pictures means getting a stranger to take a single pic on your shitty iPhone at your worst angle, which you will begrudgingly post to your Instagram later after extensive editing. 

But this is not your average day, and these are not average lives of not average people. Pictures means professional photographers with entire setups, standing with their cameras held up to their eyes, poised and ready for the next shot. It means couples, one by one, stepping in front of a gorgeous backdrop and posing, over and over, as five photographers at once cram to get their best angle, the cleanest photo. 

You don’t know how to pose for photos. You barely remember what the proper formatting is for your essays, depending on the citation structure. And yet, Chaewon is ushering you over in front of the photographers, immediately striking one of her classic, perfect poses as you flail about, trying to figure out what to do with your hands. 

“Just relax,” Chaewon advises. Even standing beside you, she can see you panicking in her periphery. “And smile. You’re beautiful, so show them that.”

Eventually, as the photographers switch positions to get different angles, you stop worrying about your hands, stop worrying about your bag, your feet, your head tilt, and just grin. You may not have millions of dollars to your name, but it’s a Friday night and you’re living the life of a billionaire with no responsibilities. You deserve to live a little. 

When the next group comes up, Chaewon nudges you out of the way and whispers to one of the photographers, who nods dutifully in response. Wrapping her arm around yours once more, she guides you to the massive catering setup, tables and tables lined with delicacies from every country you could imagine. And of course, a gargantuan chocolate fountain in the middle of it all. 

Your stomach rumbles. Clearly, the frozen yogurt was not enough to hold you off. Or maybe it’s just because you’ve been eating college dining hall food for weeks now, and are probably going to throw up if you have to have dry beef one more time. 

“If you want to, you should try the caviar. It’s delicious. Avoid the eggplant, it tastes like foot, but the brussel sprouts are delicious. Kimchi’s good, too. Classic,” Chaewon instructs as you walk around the tables, placing servings the size of quarters onto your plate just so you can have a taste of everything. Chaewon sticks to some ribs, pan-seared salmon, and a vegetable so expensive you’ve never even heard of it before. 

“Im Chaewon, is that you?”

“Mrs. Kim!”

A strange older woman comes up to the two of you as you’re dishing up, and Chaewon’s face immediately lights up. The woman goes in for a hug, a barely-touching pat of the shoulders and hands. Over her shoulder, you watch as Chaewon rolls her eyes and pulls a face. 

“How are you, dear? You look so grown up,” Mrs. Kim says. You watch as the light slowly fades from Chaewon’s eyes with each second that passes. 

“I’m very well, Mrs. Kim. Did you get your hair done? It makes you look so youthful.” Chaewon’s a master. She glares at you when Mrs. Kim isn’t looking, raising her eyebrows as if to say learn, young padawan. This is how it’s done. They go on for a couple minutes, showering fake compliments on each other as you slowly begin to eat. You scrunch your nose up. Chaewon’s right. The eggplant does taste like foot. 

“And who is this?” Mrs. Kim asks, turning her focus onto you. You look up like a deer in headlights, a brussel sprout puffing your cheek. You were not meant to mingle and eat at the same time. 

“This is one of my closest friends, Y/N,” Chaewon introduces for you. You nod your hello, chewing the brussel sprout in the most nondescript manner possible in an effort to save whatever is left of your dignity. “She’s pre-law.”

You are not pre-law.

“Oh, how wonderful! You must have a lot you want to accomplish in life,” Mrs. Kim says. God, you couldn’t care less about how Mrs. Kim feels about you.

“Yes, definitely,” you say awkwardly. 

“We really must be going, Mrs. Kim. My parents will want me to make sure I do my rounds,” Chaewon says, a hand on your arm as she makes to get you both the fuck out of there. 

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Kim concedes, sending you and Chaewon one final goodbye before moving on to find her next victim. 

When she leaves, Chaewon seems to let out the biggest exhale of her life. “Holy fucking shit, I thought she’d never leave,” she exclaims, grabbing a flute of champagne and downing it in a single go. “She’s an associate of my father’s, so she’s always trying to kiss my damn ass. Like, sorry that you need to brown-nose your boss and his daughter just so you bribe your idiot son’s way into college.”

“You like mingling, I take?” You joke. 

“Just murder me.”

“Have any tips?”

“Flex as hard as possible without actually flexing. Try to speak to people your age because they are usually more bearable than people older than you. The best conversationalists are anybody under the age of ten,” Chaewon tells you. She picks up another glass of Prosecco. “Want some champagne?” 

“You have it,” you tell her. “I think you need it more than I do.”

Chaewon shrugs. Not as if they’re running out any time soon. She gulps it down and places it on the tray of one of the caterers as they whiz by her. 

The rest of the night passes by in the same way the beginning of it did. Chaewon drags you around the penthouse, talking with her father’s business partners and associates and their sons and daughters and husbands and wives for no more than two minutes each before moving on. She’s got her technique down pat. Greet, compliment, shade, flex, compliment, say goodbye. It’s foolproof, because you immediately notice that everyone else in the room has adopted the same approach. 

Business gatherings like these are just one big game of who can be the most-liked and the least-liked at the same time. And the answer: everybody, all at once. 

Halfway through the evening, Chaewon collapses against the back wall, totally unafraid of the possibility of the glass giving out behind her. She doesn’t care. If it breaks, it breaks. 

“Tired?”

“I just need a break,” Chaewon declares. “Because everyone in here is so fucking fake, and you’re the only one I can talk to without wanting to rip out my eardrums.”

“I’m honored,” you say sarcastically. 

“When I say you’re the only honest one here, I mean it,” Chaewon says. You lean back against the wall next to her, looking out into a sea of people in fancy clothes with fancy food and fancy friends. “Look at all these people, Y/N. All these fucking people, and you’re the only one who’s true.”

And then, you spot him. 

He’s far away, standing in a group of people you don’t recognize, a hand on the small of another girl’s back. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, tight-fitting and tailored, a silver watch sparkling on his wrist as he adjusts his sleeves. One of the other young men in the group says something funny, and he tilts his head back to laugh, chuckling as the girl beside him curls into his arms. 

You suppose it would have been ignorant of you to assume Jungkook was elsewhere on a night like this, at a gathering where everybody who knows anybody is here. 

Jungkook must not know you’re here. He mustn't, otherwise he would have come over to find you. You must have entered at different times, spent the night wandering around different parts of the penthouse. Clinging onto Chaewon’s arms, you must have avoided his gaze, and he, yours. 

Chaewon hasn’t spotted him either. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better, if you’re the only one stuck with the knowledge that he’s here tonight. Chaewon would pity you. Other people would ask you how you knew such a worldly, experienced man like him. And you would spend the night wallowing in sadness, wondering why it’s never you that gets to spend the night next to him. 

From this distance, you can see Jungkook perfectly. The light from the moon shines down on him like a goddamn spotlight, catching the sparkling on his wrist, leaving a silver gleam in his slicked back hair. You watch as he laughs, smiles, talks, grins and beams and socializes. Of course he’s here. Of course. He’s so good at this, so good at being real and genuine and happy. 

Chaewon says the only person in the room who is true is you, but how can that be? How can that be when Jungkook, the most honest, wonderful, real person you know, is standing in front of you? You aren’t honest. You aren’t true and real and whole. You stand on the sidelines, a wallflower in a room of daisies and roses, and pine from afar. Watch as he pretends to date a girl that’s not you, wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek, and you act like everything is alright. 

It sucks, being trapped like this for fear of him seeing you. You know that would be worse—if he saw you standing alone and decided to take matters into his own hands. Seeing him up close in a penthouse like this, a movie set, shimmering and sparkling, it would be worse. Jungkook pulls the girl beside him in close to his side, smiling as he listens to someone else speak. She’s the perfect height in those heels, just tall enough to rest her head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. You imagine them walking into the room together, hand in hand. Imagine them posing for the pictures like a real couple, a pair of celebrities. 

You suppose you have no reason to be jealous of her, of him, of what they have. Jealousy is when resenting someone for having something that you once had. You never had a life like that with Jungkook. You’ll never have a life like that with him. Never get dressed up to go out, never get to be his date to an event. Never get pictures taken of you as a couple, never feed each other candies and strawberries dipped in chocolate. You can’t be jealous of her. You were never in the running to begin with. 

“Ready to get back out there?” Chaewon asks, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. 

A waiter comes by with a tray of champagne flutes, offering it to the both of you. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chaewon tells you as she takes a glass for herself. 

You sigh, casting another glance over at Jungkook. He and his date are moving around now, joining another social circle on the opposite side of the penthouse. He looks so at ease, so comfortable. He belongs there, in the middle of it all, talking and laughing and grinning. And you? You belong back at home, underneath your duvet covers playing a game of Mario Kart. Not here. 

You shake your head. You could use a drink or two in this state. “I’d love one, actually. Thank you.”

That night, you stay at Chaewon’s place. 

“You’ve been acting weird.”

“Hello to you, as well,” you say with a scowl as Chaewon sits down across from you at the local ramen place. 

“Listen,” Chaewon begins, “I’ve been thinking. You need to confess to Jungkook.”

You nearly spit out the complimentary water you were served. “Excuse me?”

“You need to. You’ve been acting weird and that’s the only thing that’s going to fix it,” Chaewon declares. 

“What do you mean I’ve been ‘acting weird’? Care to explain?” You ask, offended. You haven’t been acting weird. Well, that weird. Maybe a little weird.

“Jungkook told me you haven’t seen each other for the last eight days,” Chaewon points out. Eight days? It’s more like seven and a half. Not that you’ve been counting, or anything. 

“So? We’re busy people,” you defend. It’s a good enough excuse. You’re sophomores in college. You have classes. Clubs. You have to meal prep. 

“So? You guys are best friends. You make time to see each other at three in the fucking morning if you haven’t seen each other yet that day. And you haven’t seen each other for eight whole days? What’s wrong with you?” Chaewon demands. 

“Nothing! What the heck, I invite you out to a best friend ramen date and you just blaspheme all over me like this?” You accuse. This is not how you imagined today to be going. This isn’t how you imagined this week to be going. “Besides, it’s only been seven and a half days. He’s over-exaggerating.”

“Seven and a—holy fuck, you are literally the worst. Can you just stop resisting? If you tell him, everything will be fine and go back to the way things were,” Chaewon says, blinking, flabbergasted. 

“No, they will not,” you hiss. “Everything will change if I tell him. We’re best friends, Chae. Imagine if I told you that I loved you. What would you do?”

“I’d love you back, that’s what!” Chaewon tells you. “You deserve to be loved back, Y/N. Nothing would change between us. I already love you. You’re one of my most favorite people ever. I would never regret something if it was with you.”

“It’s different with him, though,” you try to explain. You don’t know why—you just know that it is. The way you’re friends with Chaewon and the way you’re friends with Jungkook are entirely separate. You love Chaewon. You’re not in love with Chaewon. 

“Is it? How?” Chaewon says. 

“I don’t know, I just—it’s different with him.” There’s no way to describe it. Jungkook appeared in your life and it was as if everything just clicked into place. There isn’t a single thing in your life that makes more sense to you than Jungkook. “It’s always been different with him. With you, I—I knew that we would become really close friends once we started talking a lot more in the beginning of freshman year. But with him—I don’t know. From the moment I met him, I knew that I would fall in love with him. When he said hello to me, I was fucked. There’s never been any hope for me, Chae. I just have to live like this forever.”

Chaewon rolls her eyes. “No, you don’t. You don’t even see what the fuck is right in front of you.”

“You?”

“God, I’m friends with idiots. Literal idiots. How you guys have made it through nearly a year and a half of college is beyond me,” Chaewon says to nobody in particular. “Seriously, tell me, Y/N. What do you think will happen if you tell him? Just out of curiosity.”

“I don’t know—” you pause. A lot of things. He tells you he just wants to stay friends. He rejects you because he’s not interested that way and you can’t really be friends anymore because it’s weird now. He’s already interested in somebody else. He’s already dating somebody else and you never even knew. He’s not looking for a relationship right now. Things get awkward because you confessed to your best friend that you’re in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same. You end up never speaking to each other. You never see each other. You go through the rest of university seeing each other on the Green by chance and not knowing what to do. You graduate and move on with your lives. And suddenly, he’s just a past friend you used to have. No longer a part of your life. No longer given the chance to. “He rejects me. We never speak again and have to avoid each other at all costs. He lets me down easy and I feel like a total loser for having confessed in the first place. There’s a lot.”

“Jesus, Y/N. Aren’t you forgetting a possibility?” Chaewon says, eyebrows raised high. 

“I’m omitting a lot of them,” you tell her. Including the one where, in the next three years, you end up in a hellish dystopian wasteland and you have to band together to survive but it’s awkward and terrible because you love him still and he doesn’t feel the same, never has and never will, and now you have to fight off zombies and a corrupt autocratic government all while dealing with your own goddamn feelings. That may be the most unbearable one of them all. 

“How about the one where he actually feels the same?”

“Too unrealistic,” you tell Chaewon. It’s the truth. Why else would Jungkook be traipsing around with beautiful, rich, worldly girls on his nights off? He does it for the money, sure, but he likes it. He loves the experience, loves living that sort of life. You’d never be able to provide that for him. “You know that’s never going to happen, Chae. We’re just friends.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, he thinks that we’re just friends. And I’m not gonna fuck everything up by telling him that I’ve been madly in love with him for the past year and a half.” You can think of nothing worse. 

“Have you ever considered the fact that maybe he thinks that the two of you are just friends because you refuse to actually show him how you feel?” Chaewon asks pointedly, eyebrows raised in disapproval. She looks about ready to walk out of the restaurant. “You never do things to give him a reason to think otherwise.”

“Why would I?” 

When your ramen arrives, Chaewon takes a deep breath, downs the rest of her glass of water, and moves on. It’s clear that if she thinks about this any more, her head will explode. 

Nothing’s ever going to change between you and Jungkook. You knew, when you first met him, that it was always going to hurt like this. That loving him was something you had to sacrifice to stay close to him. He lights up every fucking room he walks into, and it’s all you can do not to sit there and bask in his warmth. You would rather catch a single one of his rays than be in the darkness. And if being friends with him means that friends is all you’ll ever be, then so be it. You’re lucky to have him like this. Why take the plunge? 

“Just—” Chaewon says as you begin to pull apart the noodles in your own bowl. “I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now. And you deserve to be happy, Y/N. You deprive yourself of all of these wonderful things, and I just want you to know that you deserve every single one of them. But telling him? That’s something that even I know would make you the happiest. You shouldn’t live like this, Y/N. You have no idea what you’re missing out on if you do.”

The streak of not seeing Jungkook ends the next day, when you come back from an evening grocery store run to find him standing outside your door, hand about to knock on the wood. He’s all dressed up again, button-down and slacks, hair styled and parted, and you watch as he takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s waiting for the best time to knock. 

“Jungkook?”

He practically jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, nearly tripping over his own feet as he lays his eyes on you. 

“Oh, Y/N!” He exclaims. “I was just about to see if you were home.”

“You could have just texted, you know,” you say jokingly, joining him at the front door as you fumble for your keys. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Jungkook admits sheepishly. 

“Well, make it up to me by helping me unpack these,” you demand, kicking the door open as you reach down to grab your reusable canvas bags filled with groceries. Immediately, Jungkook is leaning down to grab all of them for you, hauling them inside like they weigh nothing. You stare as he heads over to your kitchen without breaking a sweat, biceps clenching as he lifts the groceries up onto the counter. 

“What’d you get?” Jungkook asks, slowly beginning to take out the groceries. He’s in your apartment so often that he’s memorized where all of your food goes, from the correct shelf in the fridge for produce to the proper cabinet for cereal. 

“Just like… groceries. I saw a box of peppermint chocolate bars that I thought you might like, they’re in there somewhere,” you say mindlessly, pointing to a random canvas bag. Immediately, Jungkook abandons his putting-away-groceries duty to fish through each of the bags, hunting for the box of goodies. “And I got some cheap Trader Joe’s wine. You know. Just for emergencies.”

“Trader Joe’s wine and peppermint chocolate bars,” Jungkook comments, nodding in approval. He finally finds the box and tears it open sideways. “Sounds like a perfect dessert if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What, did you eat already?” You ask, busting out the wine and a couple of mugs, because you don’t own any wine glasses. Nothing says cultured like drinking seven-dollar wine out of mugs with kitschy sayings like “don’t talk to me until this is empty” or “coffee is my first love” written on them. 

Jungkook shrugs. He grabs the box and heads over to your couch, already kicking back and relaxing. “Yeah, I went to some restaurant for another double date,” Jungkook says. “It was one of those places where everything is so expensive but the portions are the size of my fist. Of your fist.”

“You sound hungry,” you note, filling up the mugs and joining him. “And mad.”

“I’m getting reimbursed for the money I spent tonight, so I suppose I could be angrier. But I’m starving. Let’s finish this entire box of chocolates and do nothing else.”

“Your words, not mine,” you say, although his proposal sounds more than appealing to you. 

You turn the television on for some background noise, switching to a channel showing old reruns of unsolved serial killer cases, because nothing sets the mood better than the words “then, slowly, he took the knife with which he killed her and began to slice away at her body”. Jungkook doesn’t seem to pay the television any attention, though, instead focused entirely on the chocolate in front of him, calling his name. 

He takes an enormous bite out of one before moaning far too sexually for your liking, tossing his head back in bliss. “Oh my God.”

“Good?”

Jungkook moans again in response.

“Please don’t orgasm on this couch. Who knows what other bodily fluids were on here before we bought it,” you ask calmly. 

“I’d say that’s nasty, but you guys did cover this with one of those couch covers, so it’s not like my body is coming into contact with other people’s body stains,” Jungkook reasons. The couch cover is the single best purchase you’ve made this entire year. Possibly your entire life. “But they’re delicious. You made a good purchase.”

“I thought you would like them,” you say. “You’re the only person I know who actually likes the combination of mint and chocolate.”

“People who say that it tastes like toothpaste are brushing their teeth with the wrong kind of toothpaste,” he tells you pointedly. “I don’t understand. This is God’s combination. It’s perfect.”

“As long as you love it, that’s all that matters,” you tell him with a pat on his back, breaking off a square of the chocolate bar for yourself. It is pretty good, even if mint chocolate ice cream does sometimes taste like toothpaste. But you’d never tell Jungkook that, of course. 

Jungkook takes a swig of the wine, picking up the mug and gulping down about half of it, the wine bitter on his tongue. “Goes great with this wine, too,” he jokes. You take a sip yourself. It’s… not very good. Actually, rather sticky. No wonder it was only seven dollars. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, I know it tastes like ass,” you tell him honestly. To be fair, you and Jungkook have both had worse. Compared to the shit served at frat parties, this may as well be beautifully-aged Malbec. 

“It only tastes a little bit like ass,” Jungkook compromises. “But it doesn’t not taste like ass.”

“Let’s finish it now so we don’t have to have any more of it later,” you decide. “You’ve probably had some of the best alcohol in your life this semester.”

Jungkook thinks back, tilting his head to the side as he begins to recall all of the instances in the past few months when he’s had anything to drink. “Soju’s still my favorite. But yeah, I’d say I’ve had wine that probably costs more than my textbooks for this semester if I hadn’t pirated them all.”

“The beauty of being a CS student,” you muse. 

“You know it,” he says, holding his half-empty mug out as a toast to himself. “But seriously, even if this Trader Joe’s wine literally tasted like garbage, it would still be better than all of that other shit.”

You turn to him, skeptical. Even the single night you spent with Chaewon, in a penthouse amongst the stars, drinking champagne and eating strawberries dipped in chocolate, was more than you could ever dream of. You woke up the next day on an air mattress in her bedroom and wanted nothing more than to go back to basking in the luxury, desperate for another taste. It was addicting. How could Jungkook ever prefer what he has right now to what he had last night? 

“Really? Don’t say that just to make me feel better,” you tell him. You can take it. Jungkook has every reason to prefer the fancy meals, the penthouses, the suits and ties to your janky little apartment and old clothes from high school. The two aren’t at all on the same level. They’re not even in the same goddamn game. If you could drop everything to have what Chaewon has, what the other girls and boys who pay for Jungkook’s company have, you would. 

“I’m not,” Jungkook tells you seriously. “I mean it. I would rather sit in your room, hunched over your tiny Switch because you lost the HDMI cord to plug it into the television, playing Mario Kart than out there, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“But it was fun in the beginning, wasn’t it? Getting to be rich without the moral ambiguity that comes along with being part of the upper class?” You ask. It must have been. Jungkook looked so happy when he first started doing these gigs, coming back to your apartment in a state of bliss, a little tipsy from the expensive champagne and steak. He’d knock on your door and tell you all about the night, from how older businessmen handed him their cards and offered him jobs, to the hundreds of ice cream flavors you could only ever dream of eating. Everything seemed so wonderful to him.

Jungkook shrugs, pouring himself more wine. “Yeah, I guess, but it gets so old after a while. Like, no wonder Chaewon was so desperate for me to go with her that first time. It sucks the damn life out of you. You walk around and mingle and pretend that you’re the greatest person on Earth, talking about yourself and kissing up to the other people for an entire night. Honestly, sometimes it’s worse than my CS homework. And I hate that shit.”

“Chaewon mentioned that the eggplant usually tastes like foot,” you add. Jungkook nods in agreement. 

“Yeah, it does. She warned me about it the first night and I, like a fool, tried it because I usually like eggplant. And it still tasted like foot. Never again,” Jungkook says, shivering at the mere thought of it. It’s funny, actually, because you did the exact same thing. “But the food is like, the one thing I pretty much don’t have the right to complain about. It’s delicious and usually free.”

“But I hope that you’re having fun,” you tell him honestly, because you do. When you’re sitting in your room, eating two different pints of Ben & Jerry’s, you hope that Jungkook, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, is enjoying himself more than you are. Because he deserves it. You never want there to be a time when he’s sad, when he’s unhappy or bored. Jungkook deserves to live the happiest version of life he possibly can. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“I do,” Jungkook says. There’s a second half to that sentence. “I do—it’s just that… It's so fake, you know? I feel like such a goddamn actor when I’m there. I get to live this extravagant lifestyle for a few hours but in return I don’t even know who I’m looking at when I look in the mirror.”

Oh?

“Like, I pretend to be this business student, when I’m not. I pretend to have millions of dollars to my name, when I don’t. I hold hands and pose for pictures with people Chaewon is vaguely familiar with and nothing, literally nothing, feels real. I don’t know.” Jungkook takes another swig from the mug. “Even the relationships I have when I’m there are fake.”

“Do you hate it that much, then?” You ask him. If it’s so awful and terrible, then why does he keep doing it? Keep dressing up and going out, holding hands with and wrapping his arm around them?

“No,” Jungkook says, sighing as he leans back into the couch. “I don’t hate it. I just—I wish I had something real afterwards to come back home to.”

Real? Like what? Like you? You aren’t real. You sit next to your best friend and pretend that everything is fine. That nothing hurts. You’ve had the biggest crush on him ever since you laid eyes on him, and you’re doing everything in your power to make sure that he’s the only one that doesn’t know. 

“That’s why I’m always coming back to your apartment afterwards,” Jungkook says. He chuckles, but it isn’t his usual laugh. It sounds forced, contrived and fake. Jaded. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it almost immediately. Then, he breathes, long and slow. Thinks. The silence is almost unbearable. Waiting to hear what he has to say, even more so. “You’re the most genuine person I know. What we share—it’s real.”

Tonight is the least lonely you’ve felt in a long time. 

Even though Jungkook has something tonight, you aren’t aching to be by his side, desperate to spend more time with him. He told you that he was really looking forward to this one, that it wasn’t going to be some stuffy gala or blind double date. He said something about going to karaoke with the girl and her friends, singing Britney Spears songs and taking shots of soju for hours on end, screaming his voice hoarse. And even if you aren’t there with him, you’re happy because you know that he’s happy, that he’s genuinely enjoying himself. 

So, you aren’t that lonely. 

Content with the state of your life as it is, you take the night off, ready to prepare yourself for a weekend that will almost certainly consist entirely of just work. Chaewon’s voice echoes in your mind (“I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now,” she had told you), but it’s different now. Because you are happy. You are happy, because Jungkook’s happy. The two of you see each other just as frequently as you used to. He texts you about his terrible CS homework and the Shiba Inu he just saw being walked across campus. It’s all gone back to the way it used to be. That’s what you had wanted. 

You were prepared for this. You knew that it would eventually boil down to this, down to whether or not you could take Jungkook not knowing how you feel any longer. But right now, you don’t care. Jungkook not knowing has always been a part of your friendship. The love you hold for him, in the spaces between your bones and deep in the cracks of your heart, that has always been there. You see it, hear it, feel it, whenever you’re with him. Even when you’re not with him, it will remind you, appear in the silence, the emptiness. It will always make itself known, because it’s become a part of you. From the moment you met him, it had settled into your heart.

Staring out of the window by your living room, overlooking the ugliest parking garage on campus, you sigh. You can’t see the stars from here, not even in the dead of night, but that’s alright. There is something so peaceful about the navy blue sky. About how mysterious and unknown it is. It calms you. You put on a movie that you’ve genuinely been wanting to watch for a while, sit down in your bed, amongst your duvet and sheets, pillows and plushies, and enjoy yourself, for once. It’s a good night. 

And then, much like most aspects of your terribly convoluted, over-complicated and confusing life, it all comes crashing down. 

There’s a faint thud from outside, a soft little non-noise that you assume is coming from the street. Not wanting to interrupt your movie—she’s just about to confess, holy shit—you ignore it. It’ll go away eventually. 

Then another thud. You pause, leaning towards your window to see if you can figure out the source. Silence. You’re just about to press play, when you hear it again. And again. It gets louder and louder, making up in volume what it lacks in rhythm and order, until you realize it’s someone knocking on your door. And not just knocking casually. It’s as if someone is shoving their whole body into it, shoulders and chest and feet hitting the wood as they bang on it. 

“Y/N?”

Oh, God.

Pushing off your duvet, you tug on your slippers and wipe away the crust around your eyes as you rush towards the door. You know who’s on the other side. You’re not sure if answering it is the better or worse option. 

You’ve always had an uncanny ability to pick the latter. 

When you open the door, Jungkook, in a fancy sweater pulled over a white button down and black jeans that could almost pass for dressy slacks, is standing on the other side. 

Correction: he’s sort of standing on the other side. He nearly topples over when you pull open the door, having clearly been leaning on it, and you barely have time to reach your arms out to catch him. 

“Oh! Y/N!” Jungkook exclaims, as if he’s surprised to see you inside your own apartment. “I was hoping to see you.”

“I figured,” you tell him, laughing. You guide him inside, and even in his state he remembers to tug off his clean white sneakers, kicking them towards the shoe rack. “It’s so late, Jungkook, you should go home.” 

“No,” Jungkook whines. “I wanted to see you. I missed you.”

“We saw each other this morning, Jungkook. And this afternoon, right before you went out,” you remind him. The words go in one ear and out the other, and he pulls you in close to him, wrapping his arms around you as he presses his body against yours in a sweaty hug. His grip is tight around you as he rests his head on your shoulder, breathing you in as if you’d been gone for years. Slowly, after a few seconds, you pull away from him, a hand on his shoulder to get him to look at you through his too-long bangs, hanging over his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? I’m right here, don’t worry. I never left.”

“I had a lot to drink tonight,” Jungkook tells you, blinking rapidly. “Like, a lot. They just kept ordering soju and I just kept drinking it. It was really good. Have you had strawberry soju? It’s delicious.”

“I might have had it once or twice,” you fib, not able to recall having it one way or another. “Come on, sit down,” you point him towards the couch, but he refuses, clinging onto you even as you make your way towards the kitchen. “Jungkook, please, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“But I missed you,” Jungkook repeats. “I missed you a lot. I thought about you the entire time I was there.”

You can’t say you didn’t do the same. 

“Next time we’ll do something together then, hey? Something really fun, like going to an arcade or bowling,” you promise him with a pat on his shoulder. “But you need to drink some water, JK. Can you please sit down?”

“No, I want to be with you,” Jungkook says like it’s nothing. Like the feeling of him wrapped around you like this, holding onto you and telling you that he misses you, that he thinks about you, doesn’t mean anything. You don’t think your heart has beaten since you opened the door to see him standing on the other side. 

(You don’t think it’s beaten since you met him. Since he came up to you on the pavement, asking you for directions. Since you told him your name, and he told you his.)

“Ah, fine, just be careful, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” you concede, because it’s so easy to let him have his way, so easy to say yes to him. You manage to grab an empty water bottle and fill it up with what’s left in your Brita, too lazy to refill it after it’s left bone dry. Slowly, you make your way to your bedroom, out of view of the central living space, where your roommates could burst through the door at any moment and see you taking care of your drunk best friend on the sofa. 

Slowly, you settle on your bed, sitting off of the edge of it as you cajole him into drinking some water, whispering soft nothings to make sure he finishes the whole thing. 

“Does your head hurt or anything?” You ask him, already looking around for the stash of Advil you usually keep on your nightstand.

“No, no, I’m fine, Y/N, seriously,” he promises, even if you can see the glazed-over look in his eyes, the way his sweaty bangs stick to his forehead. “You’re too nice, you know? Always treating me when I show up at your place. Even when you don’t invite me.”

“You know I never mind seeing you,” you tell him. “You can come over whenever you want. I’m always here.”

“No, you’re not,” Jungkook says with a pout, and it makes you furrow your brows. When have you not been? Jungkook’s been going out to events ever since the beginning of the semester, and without fail, you’ve always been waiting for him at home, knowing he’ll turn up one way or another. Except, there was— “That one time a couple of weeks ago, I went to this crazy big gala with Eunha, there were so many people there, and I came back home afterwards and knocked on your door, and your roommates said they hadn’t seen you all day. Where were you that day?”

He had come? You didn’t know if he would. 

(Or maybe, you did. You knew he would show up at your door once he got back from that night, and selfishly, not wanting to see him after the fact, the leftover version of him, the part he leaves behind when he goes out. You knew he would be there and you couldn’t bear the thought of being the second girl he spends the night with. The other option. Maybe, you’ve known all along that you’ll never quite stack up to the girls he goes out with, and that sometimes, when you see him all dressed up while you’re in your hoodie and sweats, it reminds you is nothing more than a casual friendship.)

“I must have been out late with Chaewon that day, I’m sorry,” you apologize, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. “I didn’t know you would come.”

“I always come after my events. You know that.”

“I didn’t know if you’d remember to,” you correct. 

“I’d never forget about you,” Jungkook says, the alcohol erasing his filter. Making him honest. “I really missed you, that day. I had been waiting the entire night to see you.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you promise, and this one is for real. 

“You know, today?” Jungkook says, pulling his head back so he can get a good look at you, your eyes meeting his own. “Today, I was so sad on my way here. It was so terrible, because I was drunk and sad and I missed you.”

“You were sad? What happened?” You ask, leaning in. Jungkook? Sad? Who would do such a thing to him? Who would erase the smile on his face, his crescent eyes, and replace them with tears? 

“This girl and I, she was a lot of fun. We sang a couple duets together and we were pretty good,” he hiccups, “kept winning. It was fun. She and I talked for a long time. I definitely liked her the most out of all of the girls I’ve gone out with. Besides Chaewon, of course.”

“What happened? Did she do something you didn’t want? You know you can tell me, Jungkook,” you ask, a hand on his arm. 

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t know. She was fun and I was drunk. We were on our way back in the Lyft when she leaned over and kissed me. And I kissed her back, and it was kind of nice. I haven’t really kissed someone like that in a while,” Jungkook tells you. And even though you’re hearing these words from him, hearing how he had all of this fun with a girl who isn’t you, how he kissed her in the backseat of a car, you rally, blinking away the tears you can feel forming in your eyes. It’s none of your business, you tell yourself. You and Jungkook aren’t together. You don’t get to feel bad about him kissing someone else. 

“Did you like it?” You ask, each word a pin in your chest. 

“It was pretty nice,” Jungkook admits. “We, uh, we made out a bit in the back of the car until we got to her place. And then we got out of the car and she asked me if I wanted to go back with her, to her room. And—and I almost said yes.” Jungkook looks about ready to combust. At his side, his fists are clenched so hard you’re worried he’ll pop a vein. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you tell him, looking him in the eyes so he knows that you don’t mind, that he can tell you these things without worry. Jungkook may be the love of your life, but he’s your best friend, first. He’s always been, before anything else, your best friend. 

“But there is!” Jungkook cries, standing up in anguish. “There is, Y/N, you don’t understand! I almost had sex with her!”

“You’re allowed to, Jungkook!” You assure him, standing up to reach out to him. 

“No, Y/N, you don’t get it,” he tells you coldly, pulling his hand away. “Why aren’t you mad? Aren’t you angry that I nearly had sex with her?”

“No, what the fuck, Jungkook, why would I be mad?” You shout back at him. “You can do whatever you want with your body, it’s not my job to police it! I’m your friend, not your mom!”

“But don’t you want to be more, Y/N?” He rounds on you. “Don’t you want to be the one kissing me, fucking me? Why aren’t you jealous?”

“Were you trying to make me jealous, Jungkook? Is that what you were trying to do? You wanted to get a reaction out of me because my best friend nearly fucked someone else and then didn’t? What the fuck, Jungkook? What do you want from me?”

“I just want you to tell me you fucking love me back!”

“Jungkook, what—”

Jungkook, eyes dark and furious, pushes you against your closet door as your lips part, feeling the breath get knocked out of your lungs. He’s so close. He’s right there, you can see him, watch as he looms over you, hands clenched in your hoodie as he presses you against the wall. And then, wordlessly, he’s leaning down, crashing your mouths together. 

Suddenly, your heart starts. You gasp into the kiss, the feeling of his mouth on top of yours. It’s fervent, hot and angry and passionate, his body against your own as your hands reach out to press against his head. You seize up at the feeling, almost as if in shock, before melting into his touch, leaning into him, desperate. You can feel his breath mixing in with your own, feel the way his chapped lips meet your overly-moisturized ones, feel how his hands drift from where they’re bunched up in the front of your hoodie to your waist, your hips, your thighs. Jungkook kisses ruthlessly, kisses like he’s trying to prove a point. Holds onto you like he’s afraid to let go. 

When you part, gasping for air, Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, blinking. 

“Jungkook, you’re drunk—” you tell him firmly, refusing to let get your hopes up if what you have in front of you is really just an intoxicated best friend. Your heart is beating miles a minute, about ready to thump right out of you, chest heaving and mouth agape. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook argues back. “Even when I’m sober I love you. Don’t tell me I’m confused because I’m drunk.”

“You show up at my place at one in the morning, tell me about how you made out with some other girl and almost slept with her just to get me angry, kiss me, and tell me not to tell you you’re confused?” You demand. “Jungkook, I’ve never been more confused in my life than right now, can you please just—”

“I love you, Y/N,” Jungkook says, and even though he’s angry, red in the face and sweaty, when he says it, it’s soft. It’s a whisper, a murmur. He says it not to convince you, but so you know. “I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long, ever since I fucking met you. And I thought you might like me back but you never did anything about it, and so neither did I.”

“You need to go home, Jungkook,” you tell him, hiccuping. When you blink, you feel the warm tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even noticed them. “You can’t just come into my apartment and tell me shit like that. How do you think it makes me feel?”

“Do you feel the same, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking you in the eyes. He’s angry, that’s for sure, but even underneath, you can see the desperation, see how he’s just waiting for an answer. 

“Go home, Jungkook. Please. Let’s talk about this when you aren’t drunk, okay? I’m confused and I need to clear my head,” you plead, pushing him towards the door. “Please, okay? Be safe, too. I’ll call Chaewon to give you a ride,” you tell him, grabbing your phone. 

Jungkook puts a hand on your wrist. “I’ll be okay, Y/N. I just… Please, tell me. Did that kiss mean anything to you?”

“Yes, it did, but Jungkook, I can’t—”

“It meant something to me, too,” he tells you firmly, lets the words sink into the air around you.  He heads for the door, pulling on his shoes. He looks so sad. “Good night, Y/N.”

You place a hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Jungkook.”

It’s barely nine in the morning the next day when a knock wakes you up. It’s soft at first, one every couple of seconds, before it gets progressively louder. Slowly, you get out of bed, trying to tame your hair as you rub the sleep from your eyes. 

“Y/N’s in her room. Is that for her? That’s so cute. Yeah, she’s probably awake. You can just knock.” It’s your roommate. 

You scramble to make your bed, pouring some water from the water bottle by your nightstand into your hand and splashing your face, wiping it away with an old t-shirt as you run towards the door, pulling it open just in time. 

On the other side is a much more tired, much less drunk Jungkook, one hand raised and about to knock, the other holding a bouquet of daisies. 

“Hey,” he says shyly, mouth breaking into a smile the moment he sees you. 

“Hey,” you say back. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, head hurts like hell, though,” Jungkook says. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, s-sure, of course,” you say, stepping aside to let him into your bedroom. 

“These are for you.” Jungkook holds out the bouquet towards you, wrapped up neatly in cellophane and tied at the stems with a bow. “So you don’t have to keep Febreze-ing your room all of the time.”

“They’re beautiful, Jungkook,” you tell him, grinning as you take them from his hands. Today feels different from yesterday. It feels lighter, fresher. New. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I—” He pauses, taking a second to think, “I meant what I said, yesterday. Maybe not all of it, but. Most of it, yeah. I meant it.”

“Why did you try to make me jealous, Jungkook?” You ask him. “Why did you think that would work?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook admits. “I shouldn’t have, and I fucked up. I just got so… so tired of waiting to see if you’d ever come around. I just wanted you to tell me. And then I guess I got so fed up that I told you instead.”

You place the bouquet on your dresser before walking towards him, reaching a hand out. “Yeah, that was a pretty big asshole move of you,” you chide, grinning to yourself. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighs. 

“But I’m happy you’re here,” you tell him. “And happy that you meant what you said. Maybe it could have been said in a less angry way, but hearing it made me happy.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy.” Jungkook grins. “You’re my favorite person, Y/N.”

“When you asked me, yesterday, if that kiss meant anything to me? And I said it did?” You begin, Jungkook nodding in front of you. He’s positively beaming. “It still does. I want to do that every day, Jungkook. Every hour. Every single second for the rest of my goddamn life.”

“You do?” Jungkook asks. 

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook. From day one, it’s always been you.” You smile, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Feels like you’re fucking flying. Like you’re weightless. 

“I love you, too, Y/N. I never want to be away from your side,” he declares, and like a cheesy, rom-com movie, like the shitty novels you used to read in eighth grade, he pulls you in close and presses a kiss against your lips. Wraps his arms around your waist as he holds you tight, kisses you in the middle of your bedroom, in your hoodie and sweatpants, a bouquet of daisies on your dresser. He kisses you because he can, because for every second of every day for the rest of your goddamn life, he can kiss you, over and over and over. 

“We owe Chaewon an apology,” you tell him when you’re parted, sitting on your bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

“Hell yeah we do,” Jungkook agrees. “She’s been on my ass for ages about telling you.”

“Mine too.”

“She’s such a great best friend,” Jungkook comments. “Knew all this time that her two friends were madly in love with each other and didn’t say a damn word to either of us. That’s loyalty.”

“We should do something for her, to make up for it all,” you suggest. 

“You know,” Jungkook says, grinning, “I know this guy who made bank this semester by going on fake dates with a bunch of really rich girls. Maybe he could help.”

“I know him, too,” you joke. “He’s the love of my fucking life.”

Jeon Jungkook quits his job on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.

You know this because on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 7:18PM, eighteen minutes after he normally heads out on one of his many dates. 

“Y/N!” He shouts, banging wildly on your door. You rush over to open it, letting the pasta water on the stove boil over and sizzle on the heat. He’s barely gotten in a second knock when you turn the doorknob to reveal your smiling boyfriend in his oversized hoodie.

“Don’t tell me you’re blowing someone off for me,” you say, inviting him inside. He places a kiss on your cheek on the way in, taking off his shoes and coat as you rush over to take care of the pasta.

“Me? Blowing someone off? Never,” Jungkook says, mock offended. “I actually quit the dating thing, this afternoon. A girl asked if I was free and I said that I wasn’t, because I have to go home to my girlfriend making me a meal. Don’t you love the sound of that?” He asks, pleased with himself.

“You quit? I thought you liked doing that stuff,” you say, using the spaghetti fork to move around the linguine. “Hope you’re cool with boring old pasta for your meal tonight. You could have had caviar if you hadn’t quit.”

“I don’t care, it smells so good,” Jungkook tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he stands behind you, watching you cook from over your shoulder. “Look at you, being all domestic and shit. It’s very cute.”

“Stop rubbing in the fact that you’re the better cook, I get it. Pasta is all I got right now.” You pout, turning down the heat as you move to pour yourselves two cups of tea. Jungkook follows you the entire way to the kettle, grip on your waist never faltering. “You can keep going on those dates, you know. I don’t mind. I get to see you in a suit when you get back, and then I get to take it off of you. It’s a win-win.”

Jungkook pinches your waist in response. “If you have a thing for suits, you can just tell me, you know. I won’t be mad.”

You turn around to whack him with the spaghetti fork. “I do not!”

“Alright, Y/N, guess I won’t wear a suit next time you call me at two in the morning—”

“I never said you couldn’t,” you interrupt, making Jungkook laugh. 

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jungkook coos as you begin to dish up the pasta, making sure to add peas because Jungkook loves peas with his spaghetti. “But I quit because I have enough money to sustain me for the rest of the semester. I’ll work over break and get a new job next semester when the new work-study positions open. Don’t worry about me,” he assures you. 

“But didn’t you like going out and everything? Getting dressed up and drinking fancy champagne?” You ask, setting the plates down at your dinky kitchen table, a single scented candle lit in the center. 

Jungkook thinks about it for a split second, and then he shakes his head. “Nah. I like hanging out with my girlfriend more.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” you reason with a grin. 

Jungkook laughs, leaning over the table to plop a kiss on your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you pea-eating loser,” you chide, “I love you too.”

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