#I barely ever look at my twitter feed as it is. and almost never see bg3 tweets because of that.

[forcedhesitation]

might be one of the only good bg3 tweets I've seen

[juletheghoul]

Omg so I saw this on Twitter and immediately thought of your demon din!😍

I have been sitting on this one for a while, and todays the day girlie 🩷🩷🥰🥰

Lets get into it:

smut under the cut - 18+ (demon!din x f!reader, consensual sleep / dream visitation) (not beta'ed and barely proofread lmao) read the first part here

The room, the light, everything was fuzzy. An all encompassing haze, a gossamer veil over your awareness. Everything but the pleasure; the pleasure was crystal clear.

His tongue slid over your clit, surrounding it somehow and stroking it oh so deliciously. Your body was a live wire under his hulking frame, his sharp nails pressing onto the thighs he spread so wide, just enough to feel the strength in his grip, not nearly hard enough to ever hurt. With trembling hands, you fumbled through the sweat soaked linens clinging to your skin, and finally reached his horned head, grabbing onto them for dear life. He groaned at the feel of your grip and the sound pulled a filthy moan from somewhere in your chest. He pressed his face closer, his nose resting on your mound in his quest to devour you from within.

"Yes, yes Din, there-" his tongue, God his tongue, it kept its dizzying rhythm as his mouth formed some sort of vacuum around the sensitive bundle of nerves and with a steady suck your nerves exploded. Waves of euphoria spread through your body, even as your legs tried desperately to clamp shut around his head. He was too strong for any resistance though and with one final lick, and a self satisfied laugh, he raised his head.

"You're here." You speak almost dreamily, your words almost slurred from the force of your climax.

"I am here, in your dreams." He smiled, settling between your thighs, the heft of him filling your stomach with what felt like thousands of butterflies, distracting you from his words, but only for a moment.

"My dreams?" You frowned, confused, he felt so real.

"Yes my darling, this is but a dream. Until I return to you, this will have to do. For both of us." He lowered his head then, and pressed his lips to yours, softly, his tongue peeking out and plundering your mouth and it was hard to reconcile the feeling of him, there, solid and the fact that the could possibly be a dream. He shifted then, and you felt the way his sex slipped down and notched at your fluttering entrance.

He held himself there, parting you with his considerable size, teasing you. You whimpered into his mouth, and he pulled away, moving his mouth to your ear.

"You want it?" He slid just inside, making you gasp and drip onto him, your arousal like a madness.

"Yes, please-"

"Yes?" He smiled, rising up to watch your expression as he fed himself into your soaked cunt agonizingly slow, making you feel every inch, every vein.

"Yes!" You all but yelled and he laughed again, his eyes black as night, his skin glowing with how well your desire was feeding him, even in your sleep.

"Look at me." Drunk on his body, on his touch, on his presence you stared into his eyes, only when your gaze was focused on his, did he sink in to the hilt. Your head slips back with the feel of it, your pussy holding him like it never wanted to let him go. He doesn't let you adjust, instead his hips move, leaving just the tip of himself inside before sinking as deep as he can, steady, his rhythm practically making you drool.

You look down, desperate to watch the way he fucked you without mercy.

"Eyes on me, or I will stop." His voice was rough, the warm, wet clutch of you working it's magic on him and with a moan you stare into his eyes. You watch him, his mouth slack and you can see his teeth, bone white, shiny and sharp and all you can do is hold onto his neck and bite your lip. "I want you to look at me, when I make you come on my cock, keep watching me." He sped up, and it seemed as though he was touching something secret inside, something no mere mortal could ever hope to find. You keened at the feel of it, something huge building in your center, spreading like wildfire, tingling in your lips, your sex, your nipples.

"Come on, you can do it, come on my cock, give it to me." He sped up, the sound of him sinking into your sex loud and wet, "I'm going to come inside you, going to fill this tight little cunt full of it-" He groaned when you clenched around him, and when he slipped his hand down, and pressed his thumb to your clit your world shattered.

-

You woke with a gasp, drenched in sweat and disoriented for a moment, until you reached down and felt the way you'd soaked through your intimates.

The details of the dream were gone in the light of day but the effects were still present. The feeling of his tongue, the ache of being spread open, the sheen of sweat all over your body - two jewel bright eyes in the darkness. Seems he did haunt dreams after all.

-

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[muzzleroars]

I've got a couple so here we go,

-What would happen if any of the other archangel's fell for what ever reason?

-do you think any robots have made any little robot towns in hell? Like robots settle down in one spot with like little stores?

-if V1 likes to stay clean does he jump into water like a bird bath? Does Gabriel do the same?

Sorry if it's a lot in one ask! And love your art!!

aaa no problem i love little sets of questions!! :]

if any of the other archangels fell, they would end up in a similar state to gabriel as they are all powerful enough to survive the death and rebirth process, while their particular sins would determine their appearance/punishment (though some things are universal, such as the loss of flight). i have considered what sin would cause their fall based on their characteristics, with michael in violence, uriel in heresy, and raphael in fraud. michael, had his fall succeeded, would have been left with a need to feed on blood ironically enough, to the point where he would almost be forced to live in the phlegethon as there are barely any sinners left to bleed (unlike v1, a fallen angel of violence is perfectly capable of consuming rancid blood). i also do like following through with the idea that he turns white, both because hakita was right about the red on white aesthetics, but also so he appears anemic and bloodless. uriel would be sort of like gabriel's opposite, suffering from a constant burning fever and would spontaneously combust at times, fires that would leave his skin forever scorched even after putting them out. worst part is that he has no fireproof books to read :( raphael is terribly weighed down and constantly suffering from fatigue, every step so heavy that traveling long distances becomes impossible and he is essentially rendered incapable of helping anyone. his clothes become heavily gilded, and what's interesting is that i actually. sort of came up with raphael's design during my reread of the divine comedy, with the inspiration coming a lot from the hypocrites of fraud SO his punishment is quite similar, with a bit of falsifiers mixed in just for the irony as a healer.

other two answers under here!!

god i would genuinely love little machine settlements, but i think of them as not being organized enough/having advanced enough ai to do so. additionally, there is too much desperation in their situation for building up a village of some kind BUT i do think machines can form bonds with one another and do so even with models other than their own. like i really love the idea of a mindflayer that has several streetcleaners following it around, sort of protecting each other and understanding each other's priorities. also very into a sentry and drone pair, where the drone has worked on being incredibly fast and incredibly annoying so it can distract an enemy until the sentry picks them off lol and and i feel like i DEFINITELY got this idea from someone else (maybe on here? twitter? idk!!!) but like maybe there are just. machines on the surface. machines that don't solely rely on blood and got some of the grid back online and just kind of vibe up there. like they do not look at hell, that's wild shit down there. and they definitely have little towns :]

v1 likes to be power washed lol like it wants to be BLASTED with a fire hose, but it will take any kind of pool/bath it can find! it really just likes the process of "having a wash" - it doesn't mind being covered in blood and guts and every other kind of gore (fun!!!) but splashing around and getting hosed off just never gets old for it. gabriel is definitely a lot less playful and sees bathing as a relaxation thing, but he does genuinely find v1's enjoyment of it incredibly amusing. it's just so happy!!! every time!!! when gabriel's actually taking a bath to get clean however, he is much more like a bird in many ways - he likes having a heavy mist/shower available as well as a pool, and v1 ALWAYS makes sure to be close by when he shakes off his wings. this becomes a bit more difficult when he's a fallen angel, his wings hurting too much to make proper care possible, but v1 joins in to help him clean up through taking the time to mist every feather and then help spread them to air dry. the bath itself is a welcome reprieve from his freezing cold body though, and gabe really enjoys soaking in scalding hot water as often as he can after falling (any temp is fine to v1, so it loves all the bath time they get!!!)

[ventihonklightice]

Clingy || Wilbur Soot

word count: 3.5k

~~~

Y/N had been lounging around the flat all day as her boyfriend filmed videos with his fellow Minecraft friends. Wilbur had currently been recording with Tommy and Quackity, another one of their wild Minecraft mod videos. She knew her love was busy and had his responsibilities with his own videos alongside the ones made with his friends, but she had been scrolling through Twitter and saw that he had just gotten verified. There was no way he knew about the news as he had been busy all day doing his job.

A smile grew on her face as she rushed to his bedroom door to share the great news, however she paused as she heard the nature of his current discussion with his friends.

“- but she’s been good. We’ve been really good,” Y/N smiled at his words, seemingly knowing it was about her. That smile quickly disappeared at the words her boyfriend was about to spew. “Just, she’s been kind of needy and clingy or something,” Wilbur shook his head not fully understanding his own words, looking at the wall behind his monitor too lost in his thoughts. He couldn’t quite understand his own thoughts half of the time, especially today as all he has done was played Minecraft. Slowly, the hate he has been receiving has been catching up to him, forcing him into this pit he’d never thought he’d be in which added to the stress that fueled his words. “Like she thinks she always has to be with me. Right now even, she’s at the flat.” Wilbur ran his fingers through his messy brown hair as he proceeded to explain his relationship. “I love her, I do, but I can’t even be with her right now so I don’t understand why she has to be here,” he confessed, mind clouded with tiredness masked by the wine he downed in an attempt to calm his nerves.

Y/N furrowed her brows leaning forward to listen further. “Well, she loves you, so what do you expect her to do? Not want to be with you?” She heard an American accent, likely belonging to Quackity.

“I-I don’t know. It’s just- I’m not used to this. It’s been a while since I’ve seriously been with a girl like this before. I just need space, but she wants to be around me constantly. It’s annoying.” The anger, the annoyance, and the frustration were all evident in his voice, making Y/N second guess a lot of her choices the past few days. She looked down at her hands, the mustard sleeves reaching past her palms belonging to the man behind the door she leaned on.

She closed her eyes in an attempt to push back her tears before she walked away, not being able to listen to him any further. Her eyes began to water more and more as bothering him was the very last thing she had ever wished to do. She sat on the couch before pulling the jumper off of her body, folding it neatly in her hands before pulling on her shoes.

Fanning her face quickly to reduce any possible puffiness or redness, Y/N timidly knocked on the door to Wilbur’s room. “Hold on guys,” he spoke to his friends, muting himself on discord. “Yeah?” She heard his deep voice call from the other side, taking it as her cue to push the door open. His hair fluffed about as he turned to face her. “Hey what’s up?” He asked with a soft smile.

“I uh think I’m gonna head home, got an early shift tomorrow and all,” she spoke softly while avoiding his gaze. Y/N wasn’t one to lie so she felt guilty for doing so but she didn’t know what else to do.

He furrowed his brows, confused at her words. She almost always stays the night, especially when she works early because he lives closer to her job.

“You sure? You’re more than welcome to stay the night. Y-You always do,” he muttered with slight concern in his words as he took his headset off.

She shook her head lightly, “nah it’s alright. Gotta water the plants,“ Y/N fiddled with the door handle as her other hand traced the sweater, knowing full well she doesn’t have any plants.

“Alright, I’ll walk you out,” he stood up, adjusting the chair in order to do so. Y/N reached out to him, his jumper resting in her hand, “where’d you like me to put this?”

He stood up, increasingly getting confused at her actions because he knew that she loved wearing his clothes and stealing them any chance she got. “I-I’ll um, just toss it on the bed,” he pointed to the made bed, slipping on his shoes to walk her out.

She felt his form loom over her as he walked with her out of the flat and to her car. They walked in silence, uncharacteristically. Wilburs’s hands were stuffed in the pockets of his pants lost in his thoughts as he heard her car alarm He walked to the driver’s side, lost in his thoughts while he opened the door for her.

She approached the door, getting ready to sit in the driver’s seat before turning to Wilbur to bid goodbye. He leaned down to kiss her, standard for all of their farewells, but she turned her head at the last second, his lips crashing onto her cheek. His heart dropped at the odd situation he was placed in, wondering why this was happening.

“I-I’ll see you later,” she smiled softly before sitting down and preparing to drive.

He could let her go like this. He had to know if things were good, okay even. Before he shut the door, he leaned down a bit to get closer to her. “Is everything okay? You seem a bit off, darling.”

“Y-yeah I’m just really tired,” she chuckled humorlessly, placing a hand on her forehead. “Sorry, it’s just been a weird day.”

“If you’re that tired you could stay here,” his voice practically pleaded, assuring her once more that she always had a place there.

“I-I’ll be fine, I promise.” Her words were soft along with her eyes, but she just wanted to give him what he desired; space.

“You sure?” He asked once more, extremely concerned, but what answer was he really expecting? Y/N nodded her head, “positive.”

“Alright, text me when you get home,” he leaned back, preparing to shut the door for her. She nodded her head, pushing her keys into the ignition. “I love you,” he spoke sincerely, bending down so that she’d be able to see him better once more. There was an emotion in YN’s eyes that he couldn’t recognize, but the smile on her face was sad. “I-you too, I’ll see you later,” she fiddled with her keys before meeting his gaze.

His heart shattered at the words. You too? What the hell is that suppose to mean?

He gave a tight smile before shutting the door for her. You too, the words echoed in his mind as he began walking back to the front door, pausing his steps on the pavement to watch her pull out of the driveway. He sighed before turning back to his path home. Upon returning, the place felt dimmer without her presence and he quickly took note of that.

Letting out a huge sigh, he plopped down at his desk, unmuting himself on Discord. “Sorry bout that, I’m back. J-Just walking Y/N out,” he spoke, taking the only opportunity his friends quieted down to speak.

“Wilbur!” Tommy yelled as the rest of the VC, which now had Niki, Jack and Fundy, errupted in chaos. “W-What? What the fuck happened?”

“Dude you got verified on Twitter,” Quackity shouted. His eyes went wide, opening the light blue app to see if it was true. Sure enough, a small check mark emphasized his name. He beamed at the sight of it, rushing to make a tweet about how grateful he was.

He went back to his feed, noticing that Y/N had made a tweet about ten or so minutes prior.

y/n✨| @yourusername

so proud of my favorite boy getting verified <3 love you @WilburSoot !!

His heart clenched at the tweet, being drawn back to the events that occurred moments beforehand. He liked and retweeted it, watching his fans swoon at the couple’s interaction without knowing what was happening behind closed doors, before getting back to his friends being completely distracted by thoughts on the girl he loves.

~~~

Y/N never texted him to tell him that she was home. She woke up late that morning seeing a few texts from him about twitter, how his stream went and so on.

As she looked at the time on her phone, realizing the lie she told him about working early and chose not to answer quite yet.

She spent the rest of her day around the house, cleaning, cooking or watching TV. She wasn’t in any mood to go on social media, not wanting to interact with Wilbur quite yet. Y/N sighed thinking about yesterday, thinking that it would be a better idea to just give him some space.

And so she did, for several days before Wilbur’s worry consumed him.

He sat on Discord with his friends, days after his last interaction with his girlfriend. “It’s just weird because she’s never like this. She always calls or texts me whenever she gets the chance regardless of whether or not I ask,” he expressed to his friends as they were fucking around on their own Minecraft world. He wasn’t even paying attention to what he was doing in the game, just aimlessly pressing buttons and moving his mouse as he thought of Y/N.

Tommy chuckled shortly, “now look whos being needy.”

“Shut up Tommy,” Wilbur explained, running a hand across his chin, fingertips gracing his incredibly overgrown stubble. “Look I’m just saying,” the blond furthered, “there’s no need for you to say she’s clingy or whatever when your freaking out over a text! Like you saw her less than what, two, three ago?”

Wilbur shook his head, fuming now, “Oh my god, shut the fuck up Tommy! How would you, a literal child, know anything about what’s going on? You’ve barely hit puberty!” His outburst caused his friends to quiet down, them not being used to anger being directed in such a way.

“Wilbur,” Tommy started once again, becoming more serious, “I know you. You worrying over a few short days almost disproves everything you said the other day. I think you don’t know how to handle affection well, not that she’s clingy or whatever.” Hearing Tommy acting serious and not childish for this one second made something snap within Wilbur, knowing that the child was right.

He sighed, “I-I’m sorry for snapping at you. Everything is happening at once in my life right now and Y/N not talking to me has me worried. This isn’t what’s normal between us. It’s strange.”

“But isn’t this what you wanted? She isn’t being as ‘needy’ now. You got your wish, didn’t you?” George chimed in, hoping to help even though his own experiences with relationships hasn’t always been the best.

“Yeah, and I fucking hate it, I don’t know why I even said that. I don’t mean it. I love when she’s around, I hate when she isn’t,” Wilbur went on, his thoughts focusing on the good memories he has with his girlfriend.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Dream spoke ominously, feeling as if now was the most appropriate time to speak.

“I-I’m gonna call her,” the distressed twenty year old expressed, whipping out his phone to go to her number. As the phone rang, he became more and more nervous.

“What if she got in an accident? Or someone kidnapped her or something?”He rushed before him and his friends heard “please leave a message for 3-“

“Wilbur, she’s probably fine. She probably had a long day at work or something,” Niki spoke, hoping to add a small but of optimism to the situation.

“Yeah but she would’ve told me that. She would’ve called me to rant about her day, and tell me how much she wanted to see me, but she didn’t.” He leaned back in his chair, getting more and more stressed out over this.

“I-I think I’m gonna head to her flat.”

~~~

The drive was long as his anxiety slowly but surely began to increase with every green light. He pulled into her complex, parking and building up the courage to confront her.

“It’ll be fine. Things are fine,” he muttered to himself as he walked up the steps to the familiar doormat.

He knocked on the door, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. After a minute, there was no response so he knocked again with more ergency.

“Just a minute,” he heard her soft voice yell out, flooding him with relief. The voice wasn’t as warm as it typically was, only increasing his nervousness.

Before he knew it, Y/N opened the door, eyes meeting his chest before trickling to his eyes. “Wilbur? What are you doing here?”

He froze, shocked at the situation that he forced upon himself without realizing it. “I-You weren’t answering any calls or texts. I was worried,” he mumbled, immediately taking note of her puffy eyes.

“Have you been crying?” He stepped closer to her with concern lacing his voice. He reached out to hold her waist, caress her cheek, anything, but she stepped away slighted. Y/N blinked, “y-yeah, it’s just allergies.”

“You don’t have allergies like that Y/N. May I please come in?” Wilbur knew her better than that, probably even better than she knew herself. She nodded shortly opening the door wider for him to enter, looking down at her sock clad feet.

He entered the tiny flat, taking not that the once welcoming space has become littered with turmoil. The tissues by the sofa didn’t go unnoticed and neither did the pile of dishes in the sink. “What’s been going on? These past few days you’ve been acting strange,” he asked sincerely.

Y/N looked around, finding something and pretending to be busy with it. “I’ve just been busy,” she mumbled looking over the pile of mail she refused to actually look through. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, would you like some tea?” She asked, realizing her manners.

“Y/N,” he spoke defeated, “come on talk to me, please.” He practically begged as he followed her steps into the kitchen to start the kettle, even though he didn’t give her an answer.

“Everything’s fine, Wilbur,” she replied absentmindedly as she searched for her various teas. “We got chai tea, black tea, Engli-“

“Y/N, I dont fucking want tea right now I want you to talk to me,” he shouted, approaching her in the kitchen and forcing her to face him by pulling her waist gently. She gasped at the loudness of his words, not used to him yelling at her.

“Wilbur,” Y/N whispered, her hands on his chest as he looked down into her eyes. Desperation was clear in his before being mimicked in his words, “this is the longest you’ve gone without calling me Wil. Come on Y/N, please.” His voice cracked towards the end, the shakiness not leaving.

She closed her eyes tightly before she pulled herself out of his arms, turning to grab two mugs out of the cupboard, “you’re getting chai tea.”

“Love, I just want us to be okay,” he spoke passionately, pleading for things to be right.

“We are okay Wilbu- Wil,” she corrected, more so forcing the nickname to combat his complaint. As she prepared each cup, putting Wilbur’s desired amount of sugar into his cup and respectively her own.

He shook his head, not believing her words as his own eyes began to turn red, “there’s something wrong and I can tell. Please just-please Y/N.” His voice was completely broken and she knew she had to express her concerns. She paused her motions, staring at the jar of sugar she just placed onto the counter.

“I-I didn’t want to bother you,” she muttered softly, examining the mugs before her.

The man sniffed, confusion growing within him. “W-What do you mean? You could never bother me Y/N,” his voice soft, approaching her once again.

She shook her head, moving to put sugar in each cup, forgetting that she already did so, “but that’s not true. We both know that.” The water remained on the stove while copious amount of sugar occupied each cup. Wilbur gently grabbed the hand holding the spoon that shoveled the sugar into the mugs, making her stop her own actions.

“Yes it is, love.” Wilbur whispered softly as she put the spoon into the jar, coming back to reality. Y/N let out a shaky breath, facing the counter while Wilbur occupied her side, facing her.

“So why’d you tell all of your friends that I’ve been clingy and needy and overbearing and everything under the sun?” She whispered as her voice wobbled, indicating that tears would soon come falling down.

Wilbur furrowed his brows, confused at the words she expressed. He scavenged his mind, not understanding what she was stating. “What are yo-“ he cut himself off, taking his hand from hers as he remembered that conversation.

Guilt washed over his soul as he realized the greater impact of his words. She thought she had to change....for those idiotic meaningless words expressed in a fit of stress and exhaustion. He shook his head lightly, refusing to look at her, refusing to look at the damage he’s caused.

“I didn’t mean it Y/N. I just-there was a lot on my plate and I just had to complain about something. A-And you were there to complain about.” He spoke honestly, knowing that it doesn’t excuse his behavior. The sound of the kettle went off, the whistle tones attacking his ears while Y/N ignored it to focus on the conversation at hand.

“I just didn’t want to be a burden,” she muttered with a wobbling bounce that made the tall idiotic man pull her into his arms.

“No,no,no don’t ever ever think that again. You are not a burden. You never were Y/N. This is on me, I shouldn’t have said what I had said,” he muttered into her hair, repeating apologies like a mantra while kissing her hairline.

She let go, allowing her pent up feelings from the past few day flow out through tears while in the comfort of his arms, “my biggest fear is bothering people. I-I didn’t want to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” he pulled away to hold her tear stained cheeks in his hands, regret prominent in his gaze, “you have been nothing but patient with me these past few months and that is something I don’t even have the words to express, love.”

“You, Y/N L/N, are not a burden, not now, not ever,” he whispered lovingly. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I’m sorry I even said it. I didn’t mean it, but fuck I shouldn’t have. Look at what I’ve done to you,” his voice wavered as he pulled away to assess the damage. “Fuck,” he shook his head as a sob escaped his lips before he could pull her into his arms again.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, holding her tight while the whistle pierced his ears. She leaned back slightly, pressing her forehead against his while closing her eyes, “I know, I know. It’s okay. I know you. I know you wouldn’t mean it.”

“I love you,” he whispered, holding her head in one of his hands. “I love you too, Wil,” she whispered back, pulling his lips onto hers, sealing their words with this actions.

As much as he loved the feeling of her soft lips on his once again, he pulled away. “Okay, okay, as much as I don’t want this to stop, that damn kettle is driving me mad,” he expressed, making Y/N chuckle before kissing him on the cheek and going to turn off the stove.

He watched fondly as she was about to pour the water into the mugs, stoping to see the plethora of sugar in each. “Oh shit,” she paused, laughing at the mess she had made. Wilbur snapped out of his gaze, examining the scene that caused her words.

He shook his head lightly, grabbing the kettle from her hands before placing it back onto the stovetop. “You,” he turned to face her, poking her cheek, “go to bed, get all comfy and put on a film. I will finish the tea and bring it to you.” His eyes got soft towards the end of his statement as he went to assess the mug situation.

“Then,” he spoke gently, grabbing her waist once again, littering her face with kisses that trailed down her neck, “I’ll spend the whole day making it up to you.”

Y/N laughed, running her fingers through his soft hair, “can’t wait.” His lips stayed pressed onto her neck, before they made their way back to her own.

[hangovercurse]

Nerd Love

After years of working together, Pete still manages to break you.

Request: “Hi! Can I get a Pete imagine where you guys work on SNL together and you have few skits together and during one of them you can’t stop laughing”

Pete Davidson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 2237

“Live from New York, it’s Saturday night!” You hear Kate and the host of the week announce before Lorne motions that the cameras had cut for commercial break. You and Pete had a sketch together in exactly 12 minutes and 45 seconds, and you were trying to cool your nerves.

You loved your job, writing on SNL was something you had dreamed of since you were in middle school, and now it was your reality. Of course, it was hard, the hours were long and the work was demanding. But having Pete by your side made it all bearable.

You had met on your first day, getting hired one season after him. You two were deemed the “babies” of the cast because you were the youngest, so naturally you got paired up. A lot.

At first it bothered you that you only really ever worked with one person, but after your first few episodes you grew to love Pete. Your energies matched so well, and whenever you wrote together you easily built of each other.

After 6 years of working on the show together, you had become really close friends. You were with him through all of his hard times, and you were one of the few people he let visit him in rehab. In return, he stuck by your side through everything, even when the internet tried to cancel you for an interview that was taken completely out of context.

You couldn’t pinpoint when, but at some point, you had developed real feelings for him. Obviously, you’d never tell him, not wanting to mess up your amazing friendship. But they still flourished, especially when you would be up until 6 am writing sketches and goofing around in the writer’s room. Of course, the comments from fans didn’t help your feelings either. They loved you guys. Anytime you posted Pete on your social media, they were all over it.

But you guys had denied the dating rumors countless times since they’d started 5 years ago. Even though having to hear the words “we’re just friends” over and over killed you.

You were lost in thought when Pete came up behind you, hands grabbing your shoulders and shaking you slightly. “Ready bookworm?” He asked, moving to stand next to you.

“Only if you are, Mr. jock-man.” You laughed, rolling your eyes.

The sketch you and Pete had written was a young couple on a really fancy date to celebrate their 6-month anniversary. Your character was going on the date with Kyle Mooney’s character. Both of you were the stereotypical nerd couple with glasses, suspenders, and everything else. Pete was playing your waiter, who obviously did not give a shit about his job. He was the stereotypical jock character. Your character was super attracted to him and kept paying attention to him. He loved the attention and would do things like show you his (reaaaallllyyy) lame tattoos, tell you about sports, and everything that nerds don’t like. Kyle obviously didn’t like that and kept trying to get your attention in the weirdest of ways.

It was pretty funny in rehearsals, almost too funny. Seeing Pete act so out of character was hilarious to you and having to overdramatically flirt with him felt ridiculous. You barely made it through in rehearsals without laughing, so you had to hope you could do it on stage.

“Y/N, Pete, and Kyle. You’re up.” The stagehand told you, and you grabbed Kyle’s hand, walking to the stage.

The sketch started and you were doing okay. You and Kyle had your conversation about your anniversary and your favorite Star Wars movies. But then Pete walked onto the stage in his ridiculous waiter getup. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the top and wrinkled, his black pants hanging low on his hips, and his apron only half tied. You bit your tongue to keep yourself together.

“Welcome to White Oyster, what do you want?” He said in a very bored voice. You acted interested, eyes raking up and down him. You felt ridiculous and had to swallow a laugh.

Kyle pushed his glasses up on his nose, “me and my girlfriend are here for our six-month anniversary, so we would like the couple’s special.” His nerd voice was incredible.

“Okay. Anything else?” Pete’s voice remained monotone.

You bit your lip, “do you recommend anything else?” You asked, trying to sound nerd-sexy.

You could see Pete struggling to contain a smile. “I mean, whatever. Food here is shitty anyways.”

Kyle’s mouth gaped, “can you not speak like that around my girlfriend, please?”

The sketch continued with you making flirty remarks towards Pete, him being very bored and unaware, and Kyle trying to direct your attention. After your second attempt at flirting with him, you could feel yourself breaking down.

“So, I was wondering. Do you have any tattoos?” You asked him, your elbow on the table, twirling a piece of your hair in your finger.

Pete nodded, pulling up his shirt to show the big MOM tattoo on his side that was drawn on earlier. You felt a giggle slip out, completely out of character.

You tried to cover it up and continue, “wow, you really must love your mom, huh?” Another chuckle leaving your mouth, “that’s kinda hot.”

Kyle looked at you with wide eyes, “Linda!” He screamed the name of your character

Pete shrugged, “Nah, I did it myself. It says WOW, like world of warcraft.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell out of your mouth, and one followed from Pete. This was a disaster. You tried to regain your composure, knowing Kyle was probably really frustrated right now. “I just think tattoos are so cool. You don’t have any, do you Darren?” You asked Kyle’s character, eyes narrowing at him. You heard a chuckle from Pete beside you and you bit your cheek.

Kyle faked looking flustered, “N-no. But I have all 7 of the Harry Potter books and 4 collectors wands.”

Pete nodded, “Oh cool, I have a Harry Potter tattoo.” He pulled up his arm to show his real tattoo.

Your eyes went wide, “Wow. That’s way cooler.” You batted your eyes up at Pete, making him break even more. Watching his face go red and his mouth lifting up with laughter made you squeeze your eyes to hide your laughter.

“But babe!” Kyle was starting to break now too. “You love my Harry Potter stuff!”

“It’s cool, I guess.”

The sketch continued with you and Pete laughing anytime you looked at each other, your energies feeding into one another. You both tried really hard to keep it together, but something about flirting with Pete made you so giddy inside that you couldn’t help it.

Eventually the scene ended and the lights went down. You knew the cameras probably caught an extra few seconds after the close of the sketch, meaning they caught you and Pete breaking down into fits of laughter.

You somehow made it offstage, faces red. “We’re so gonna get fired.” He said through giggles.

“I’m so sorry,” You started, trying to take breaths through your laughs. “I don’t know why I couldn’t hold it together.”

“You looked ridiculous.” Pete laughed, pointing at your glasses.

 After the show you made your way back to your dressing room, changing into your day clothes and getting ready to leave. You finally checked your phone, which had been off the duration of the show.

Your twitter feed was filled with clips of you and Pete laughing through the sketch.

They’re so cute together #goals

Love their friendship

Get you someone who looks at you like Pete looks at Y/N

Poor Kyle ☹

The way they can’t get through a skit because they’re too in love

And they say they aren’t dating…

Can’t believe the unprofessionalism

Pete and Y/N are dating… no one can convince me otherwise

The flirting!!! The looks!!!

I would like Pete and Y/N to get married and adopt me please

Your heart melted at all the comments, a sigh leaving your mouth. You watched the video and noticed the way he looked at you anytime you broke character, it was the same way you looked at him all the time.

You shook your head, convincing yourself you were imagining it. You couldn’t afford to think like that, it would ruin your friendship.

A knock at your door pulled you out of your thoughts, “Y/N, wanna go grab a drink with me?” It was Pete.

“You can come in.” You called, and he did so. “I don’t know, I was thinking I might just go home. I’m pretty tired.” You really just wanted to go home and sort through your feelings for the umpteenth time that month.

He nodded, watching as you tossed various items in your bag, “you were great tonight.”

You giggled, “Pete I barely made it through our sketch, it was a disaster.”

He rolled his eyes, walking over to where you were at your vanity. “I messed up too, but it was fine. No one noticed.”

You leaned into the mirror, fixing your makeup slightly. Pete was very close to you, watching you through said mirror. “Trust me, Petey. Everyone noticed.” You laughed, standing up straight again.

Your back was inches from his chest, and you could suddenly feel a different sort of tension in the air. But you didn’t make any move to shift away from him. He gave you a quizzical look through the mirror and you took out your phone, turning to him.

You took in a breath at the proximity. You weren’t close enough to kiss or anything, but his chest was only a few inches away from you. You shook away the thoughts you were having and opened your twitter, letting him scroll through the tweets. He chuckled and shook his head as he read them, eventually handing you your phone back.

“People really like us together.” He said, smiling.

You rolled your eyes, “They have for the past like, 6 years, Petey. We’re funny.” You smiled moving to turn back to grab your bag, but his hand grabbed your hip and made you stay facing him.

Your mind went blank at his touch, trying to figure out if this was real or if you were just really really tired. “That’s not what I meant.” He said, quieter.

You laughed, looking away from his eyes, not really knowing what to say. “I mean, people have always thought… stuff like that.” You mumbled, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Pete’s eyes were searching your face, taking in every detail. “Have you ever thought about, like, why people think we’re…” He trailed off, but you knew what he was implying.

You blushed, looking down at your toes. “I mean, I guess we’re together a lot and we get on well. People just like to make assumptions, I guess.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure it doesn’t help that I can never keep my eyes off of you, even when the cameras are rolling.” He said, a chuckle following.

You smiled, looking back up at him, your brain trying to process what he just said. After a few moments of silence, you spit out a “why are you bringing this up?” Your voice was soft, almost a whisper.

He sighed, hand moving from your hip and rubbing his face lightly. “I don’t know, I’ve just been thinking a lot.” You gave him a look that told him to continue. “I mean, I think it’s kind of obvious that I like you.”

Your mouth dropped, “obvious? Pete Davidson you have been far from obvious about your feelings.” You really thought you were dreaming, hearing those words from him was just impossible.

“Are you kidding me? How many sketches do I have to write just so I can flirt with you? Have you not picked up on the fact that literally every sketch I write for you to be in we’re playing some sort of couple?” He laughed, stepping towards you, and grabbing your hips again. “Dude, and I thought I was oblivious to this shit.”

“In my defense I’ve spent the past like 6 years trying to convince myself you didn’t feel the same way.” You said, a smile crossing your face.

Pete rolled his eyes, leaning closer to you, “now why would you wanna do that?” There was a playful tone in his voice, but you couldn’t help your serious answer.

“Because I didn’t wanna read the signs wrong and mess up our friendship.” You sighed.

Pete’s smile softened, “Y/N I literally want to kill you right now for making me wait this long.” You giggled, leaning closer to him. “But you’re cute so I guess I can let it slide.”

“If I kiss you will it make up for it?” You asked, batting your eyelashes.

Pete pretended to think about it, “hmmm, maybe. You should definitely give it a shot to see.”

You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you. Your lips touched his and it was like everything in the universe suddenly aligned. His mouth moved against yours in soft, perfect motions. His hands pulled you closer into him, your bodies molding together like it was meant to be.

When you finally pulled away for breath, he pressed his forehead against yours, a wide grin on his face. “So, about those drinks?”

[someonestolemyshoes]

Off the Record

Hello!! I am super excited to finally post my entry for @levihan-drabbles competition :D The prompt was super interesting and I had a tonne of fun writing this one! 

The prompt I received was: Hange posts a picture of Levi somewhere and it becomes a meme.

(For those curious, this is the meme I used for inspiration) 

Hange pushed her plate across the table and grinned at him. "Levi! Fancy seeing you here! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Levi's lip curled.

"You know what," he said. Hange braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her knotted fingers.

"Enlighten me."

Colour rose in Levi's cheeks. For a moment, Hange felt a little guilty. For all Levi's grumbling and grunting, Hange had never seen him angry before.

"That bullshit article."

"Ah. Was there a problem?"

Hange met Moblit in a small cafe a little way down the road from the newsroom. She was in good spirits—her morning had been productive; she'd made steady headway with research for her next interview, finished the final edits for a few smaller tabloid pieces she'd been meaning to brush up, attended three short, perfunctory meetings on tedious company policy, and laid the groundwork for another exciting interview opportunity.  

She felt good. And now she had the pleasurable prospect of a hearty lunch, a passable cup of coffee, and perhaps best of all, Moblit's company. His company, and his camera.

Hange threw herself into the seat opposite Moblit the moment she spotted him, hunched over his laptop in a corner of the cafe. He lifted his coffee cup just in time for Hange to clatter against the table, the thin metal frame rattling precariously. She offered him a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," she said, and then, "got anything exciting?"

"I don't know about exciting. Interesting, maybe, but no breaking news."

Hange flagged down a passing waitress with one hand, and waved Moblit off with the other. "Doesn't matter, doesn't matter," she said, then paused to order a drink and her favourite sandwich. "Tell me anyway."

"I got a tip-off from a waiter at Sina's."

Hange's eyes sparkled behind her glasses. She sat forward in her chair, folding her arms on the table top as she leaned closer. "Who?"

"Take a guess."

Hange grinned at him. Moblit was not one to play coy; he did his job and did it well, and reported his findings efficiently. To leave her to question it meant one of two things; he had photographed someone very high profile indeed, or it was somebody Hange was, for better or for worse, well acquainted with.

Or perhaps, if she were lucky, it was both.

"Let me see him, then."

**

Hange had taken far too much time in the cafe with Moblit. He had given her a rundown of all the details he'd gathered during his field work that morning, and shown her through his extensive photo gallery. It was impressive, the kind of archive Moblit could cultivate with only a 45 minute breakfast window.

Hange had been delighted. Moblit was right; it wasn't breaking news, nothing particularly thrilling, but there was a corner of the Internet, Hange knew, that would delight in a trashy little article just like this. Something quick and simple to bulk up the social media feed for the afternoon.

Plus, there was a series of pictures Moblit had snapped, a cluster he'd thought to be of no real merit, that Hange simply could not pass up.

She could lay down no facts with a story like this one. There was no hard-hitting investigative journalism to be had, but she could at least offer some speculation based on her knowledge of the subjects involved, and spin a tale juicy enough to get people talking.

It took little time at all to put the article together. Hange scribbled up an outline for the contents—the location; Sina's in downtown Hizuru, a luxurious restaurant serving five star meals at every hour of the day. High in quality, sickeningly steep in price. The time of day; 9am. To the best of Hange's knowledge, this was rather out of character for the subject. He was an early riser, but according to their interview last March pending the premiere of his newest movie, he wasn't the type to eat much at all before lunch time.

And then, the company. Eren Yeager was a relatively well-known actor, barely an adult at nineteen. He starred in his first role a decade earlier, and had seen commercial success in multiple movies and TV shows ever since. He had been something of a prodigy in his younger years, bold and precocious, possessing a natural talent many actors years his senior couldn't even hope for. As Hange understood it, he had recently hit a rather troublesome phase. An interesting line of inquiry, but despite his talent and his fame, Eren's presence was simply a cameo, compared to the subject of the article Hange was drawing up.

Levi Ackerman.

Levi is a fan favourite and a media delight. He's attractive no doubt, and his performance in any and every role is almost always met with critical acclaim. Outside of his career, however, he's an elusive thing, silent in any matters pertaining to his private life. He avoids any public event like the plague, and rarely shows his face at premieres or award ceremonies if he can possibly avoid it. He gives interviews only when required by some contractual obligation or other, or else when the journalist in question is so painfully persistent that it is simply easier to give in than to keep fighting.

Little of his personal life is known, but it is impossible for someone in Levi's position to avoid interacting with anybody at all, and even the great Levi Ackerman is not above scrutiny.

There are rumours. Several of them, accounts from fellow cast members, from staff, from directors, and even Erwin, his manager, has alluded more than once to Levi's sour disposition. He is prone, Hange has heard, to fits of anger, and is easily disgruntled by minor inconveniences. His dislike of anything unclean or untidy is the stuff of legends—Hange has seen this first hand, at their very first interview. He had entered the room, scowled at the chair before sitting in it, and given Hange a thorough once over before announcing, with no hint of humour, "your glasses are filthy."

Hange had found him both fascinating and quite delightful, in his own strange way. When he acts, Levi sounds eloquent; he is a master of emotive performance, wringing the last drops of anger, despair, or grief out of each and every word, or else injecting the perfect giddy jitter, or a tremor of humour when the scene called for it. As soon as the cameras stop rolling, though, Levi's tone becomes flat, and without a script, his words are clumsy and crass. He communicates poorly, quick to throw insults and crude remarks. Hange has interviewed him a number of times—she counts herself very lucky that Levi will consent to her requests without too much fuss, these days—and each time she finds herself spending half of their time together translating his answers into something a) family friendly, and b) understandable to the everyday reader.

There is nothing for Hange to translate this time. Moblit managed to speak to the waiter after Levi and Eren had vacated in hopes of gleaning any small tidbit of knowledge regarding their conversation, but the venture had been hopeless. The pair had grown silent upon the approach of any staff member, and spoke in tones too hushed for anyone nearby to hear. They learned nothing they couldn't extrapolate for themselves from Moblit's pictures; Eren looked sheepish, avoiding Levi's gaze in favour of staring into his drink, while Levi—

Levi looked furious.

Every picture featured his signature frown, which, in and of itself wasn't enough to assume Levi to be in any mood besides neutral, but some of the photos show a hint of bared teeth or pursed lips, with his brows pulled lower than normal, the space between them deeply creased. Hange found herself curious as both a journalist and as an acquaintance. They may not be friends, but Hange liked to think she knew Levi a little better than most people, at least. She could find nothing in their past interactions to suggest any relationship with Eren beyond the strictly professional. They had over a decade between them, and though they had worked together on more than one set, neither party had ever said anything to insinuate so much as a friendly attitude between them.

There was no resolution to her queries to be easily found. And luckily for Hange, this particular piece didn't require any. It was a gossip article, something spicy, jam-packed with buzzwords, what-if's and more questions than answers, designed to make people wonder. Levi's name in the title would be enough to draw people in; Eren's name was an added bonus. But the star of the show was Moblit's photography. Hange arranged the images she had chosen in a grid. In context, the pictures were intriguing, depicting a particularly ferocious part of Levi and Eren's exchange. Out of context, they looked a little ridiculous. Both would bring readers onto their home page.

Satisfied with her work, Hange queued the finished article for review, and turned her attention back to her schedule.

**

The article launched mid-afternoon. Hange watched, somewhat satisfied, as it was received much as she had expected it to be. The activity on their Twitter account skyrocketed, the tweet in question garnering more likes, retweets and replies in the hour after it's post than any other they’d dropped in the last month.

Hange had allowed it to slip from her mind after the first hour or so. She received praise from her bosses, and a text from Moblit, jokingly demanding she pay him even more handsomely for his work than she already had, and her cousin had called her in the evening on a quest for insider gossip she could share with her friends, but that had been the end of it. Hange thought of it no more until early the following morning, when she had stopped by the quiet little cafe beneath her flat for breakfast and her favourite coffee.

She had been polishing off her pancakes when the bell above the door chimed. She had paid little attention to the newcomer, until a shadow passed over her table, and a familiar voice said, "Oi, shitty glasses."

Hange looked up to see Levi Ackerman himself standing over her, his face twisted in a scowl.

There are perks of being reasonably acquainted with Levi. Hange always gets to conduct his interviews, and Levi only ever turns her down if her request is unreasonable. Like that time she demanded he meet her at this very coffee shop for "just a quick piece, about the cameo you did for the new season of Titans", only to show him she'd bought a new pair of glasses—"look, all clean!"—and, when pressed, admitted there was no interview at all. He had been far more hesitant to indulge her in smaller affairs after that, but Hange was still lucky enough to be his only regular interviewer after big releases.

More interviews means more commission for Hange, and more high profile work with other celebrities. Yes, being acquainted with Levi has its bonuses.

But it also has its downsides. Namely, that Levi will not hesitate to turn up at her regular coffee shop to berate her after she has posted some complete and utter wank at his expense.

Hange pushed her plate across the table and grinned at him. "Levi! Fancy seeing you here! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Levi's lip curled.

"You know what," he said. Hange braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her knotted fingers.

"Enlighten me."

Colour rose in Levi's cheeks. For a moment, Hange felt a little guilty. For all Levi's grumbling and grunting, Hange had never seen him angry before.

"That bullshit article."

"Ah. Was there a problem?"

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?"

Hange sat back in her chair and sipped at her coffee. Levi's face was full colour now, a pale pink flush from his neck right up to his hairline. Hange gave him a measured look, then kicked out the chair opposite her.

"Sit," she said. "If you have issues, I'd be happy to discuss."

Levi looked for a moment like he'd like nothing more than to strangle her. Then he pulled out the chair the rest of the way, and dropped himself into it.

"I don't give a fuck about the article," he said. "It's shitty gossip anyway."

Hange raised a brow at him. She opened her mouth to continue when, without prompt, a young waitress approached their table, practically bouncing on the spot as she stopped and gave Levi a dazzling smile. Her cheeks were flushed prettily, and Hange would have thought she were simply starstruck, if it weren't for the light of mirth in her eyes.

"Good morning, sir. Can I get you anything?" She gave Levi no chance to respond, before plowing on. "Water? Or tea, perhaps? Forgive me, but you seem a little upset. Might a nice tea calm you down?"

Levi grit his teeth. "No, thank you."

Hange almost apologised to the poor waitress on his behalf, but she didn't look bothered at all by his rudeness. In fact, she had barely turned from the table before she snorted in laughter, and caught her giggles in her hands as she scurried back behind the counter. A second passed, before all three waitresses snickered.

"That," Levi hissed, "is your fault."

Now Hange truly was confused. She furrowed her brow at him. "How does that have anything to do with me?"

"You and your stupid article," he said. Hange looked back to the waitress, who looked to their table again before falling into a fresh fit of giggles. Hange turned back to Levi, a little sympathetic.

"I think she just fancies you."

"You're trying to tell me you really don't know the mess you've caused?"

Hange shook her head slowly. Levi watched her closely, searching for proof of the lie, but Hange's earnestness must have shown through, for Levi's anger abated a little, and he slumped back on his chair.  

In lieu of a verbal explanation, Levi pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, typed something out, and scrolled a little way, before placing the phone on the table and sliding it towards her. Hange pulled it closer with a frown.

The screen displayed Twitter, and showed the feed beneath the search for Levi's name. Hange scrolled a few posts, eyes widening little by little as she went.

Levi was right. The contents of the article were of little significance at all. The photo grid, however, had gone viral overnight.

It showed four pictures of Levi and Eren, taken in succession. Each one showed only a portion of the back of Eren's head, but Levi's expression in every frame was more animated than Hange had ever seen him outside of his movie scenes, and each was more distraught than the last. Face tight, jaw clenched, teeth bared, with his finger pointed condescendingly in Eren's face. The second last picture shows his brows arched and his lips pressed into a thin line, and the final one—

Hange had laughed at it in isolation when Moblit had shown her. She had fully expected it to garner a few laughs, but she hadn't expected a photograph of Levi furiously slurping his tea to become a meme in less than 24 hours.  

"I see," Hange said, as she calmly slid the phone back to him. "In my defense, you don't help yourself. It wouldn't be half as funny if you didn't hold your tea cup so weird."

"In my defense," Levi snapped, "If you didn't post it online nobody would have anything to laugh at."

Hange crossed her arms on the table and leaned towards him, smiling pleasantly. "In your defense, you wouldn't have been so angry in public if it weren't for whatever Eren had to say. What was that about, by the way? I'm terribly curious."

Hange expected a very Levi response to her prying; a scowl, perhaps a quick kick under the table, an 'It's none of your damn business, four-eyes', if she were lucky.

What she got instead was a haughty sniff, and a gruff, "He's fucking my cousin."

For a moment, they were silent. Either Levi's anger at his new meme status had temporarily disabled the part of his brain that blocked any mention of his private life from slipping past his lips in the wrong company, or something about Eren's indiscretion had rattled him so much, he couldn't keep silent about it. Either way, he looked increasingly surprised—and horrified—at himself for saying it out loud. Hange's eyes were wide, and Levi's were growing wider by the second. Of all the people to slip up to, he had slipped up to her. An entertainment journalist, the one person in his life who thrived on this kind of insider knowledge.

Hange swallowed. Levi was still staring at her like a deer in headlights, no doubt painfully aware that there was no taking back what he had said now.

Hange doesn't take a great deal of pride in what she does. She feels satisfied when her stories receive the reception she'd predicted, validated in her ability to analyse their consumer base and make accurate assumptions about what will hit and what won't, but the work itself feels dirty, at times. An opportunistic scavenger feeding on whatever carrion they can find, no matter how rotten it may be.

This is a perfect opportunity. Salacious details of Levi's interpersonal relationships, right from the horse's mouth. If it were anyone else, Hange would be scribbling every word verbatim in her notebook.

But this is Levi. Levi, who seems jarred by her last article (though Hange will maintain this, at least, is no real fault of her journalism, and also, absolutely hilarious) and was clearly, for whatever reason, incensed by Eren's actions.

Hange brushed her palms over her thighs, and picked a speck of lint from her trousers.

"This is nice, isn't it?" She said, "having breakfast together. We should do it more often. It feels good to just talk, sometimes. Off the record."  

Levi blinked rapidly at her. He opened his mouth, but, still too shocked by his own loose tongue to speak, he said nothing. Hange pulled her phone from her bag and fiddled around with it some, tapping here and there, until she found what she was looking for. She turned it to Levi, and said, "I think this is my favourite edit so far."

Levi finally pulled his gaze from her, and looked down at the screen. It was truly something, the way the picture snapped him out of his stunned silence. Hange had never seen someone's face pinch up so rapidly.

"Come on, it's kinda funny. And look! That's Tony Stark, right? People are so creative. And maybe, if we're really lucky, Buzzfeed will do a compilation article of all the best ways people have used your new meme."  

Levi rolled his eyes at her. It looked strange, with his face so tightly twisted. Hange chuckled at him.

She nudged his ankle beneath the table with the toe of her shoe. "Lighten up, you look constipated."

"Oi, out of the two of us I'm not the one who's full of—"

"—Full of shit, I know, I know. That honour is all mine."

They lapsed into another silence, this one marginally more comfortable than the last. Hange finished the last of her coffee and checked her emails, while Levi tortured himself some more by scrolling through his Twitter feed. After a short while, he spoke again.

"That...doesn't sound bad," he said.

"Hm?"

"What you said about talking more. Off the record. It doesn't sound bad."

It was Hange's turn to flush. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she occupied herself by rifling through her bag in search of nothing.

"Yeah?" Her voice, an octave higher than usual, cracked around the vowels. She cleared her throat, "will you have more gossip for me? It's almost painful that I can't share it, you know."

"Good. I'll share as many secrets as I've got, if it'll bother you that much."

"Sounds terrible," Hange said. She tore a clean corner off her napkin and scribbled her personal number onto it. She slid it over the table to him. "Text me."

Levi pulled a face at the piece of napkin. "Is that used? Gross, shitty four-eyes." He pocketed it anyway.

Hange didn't know what else to say. Levi didn't seem to either, and so he stood, and tucked his chair back in. Hange turned her eyes down to her empty plate. Her stomach and chest felt strange, almost sickly, but in an oddly pleasant way.

Levi rapped his knuckles on the table. Hange jumped, startled, and looked up at the sound.

"This part is on the record," he said. The corner of Levi's mouth quirked into a small, barely there grin. "I heard from a reliable source that Eren was so scared on the set of Last War that he pissed his pants. Twice."

[trippin-over-my-fandoms]

I’ve seen this done before but here are my modern!rdr2 social media headcanons for the Van der Linde gang.

some of these are LONG and then some are shorter. doesn’t mean I love any of them any less however. I just did my best with all of them. 

* I treat the gang as family especially for my modern au 

Dutch

frequently uses Facebook and has dozens of friends he doesn’t even know. like if he gets a friend request he’ll accept it. John tells him he might as well just make his page public and Arthur pleads with him to make a facebook PAGE so that his random friends will stop liking posts that Arthur tags Dutch in. 

Dutch has no idea how to make a facebook page. 

he also has a Twitter and a massive following at that. He’s VERIFIED. 

all of his twitter posts are vague though

are they a joke? are they political? is it what he’s eating for lunch that day? literally no one knows.

Hosea

also has facebook but doesn’t use it because why does he need to look at pictures of events he was at. he only uses it to see things he didn’t partake in

also has snapchat but just to keep up with the kids 

because life360 was too much to deal with for everyone

and snapchat is cool

also he can and will spam you with bitmojis 

Arthur

used to use facebook a lot but stopped because he was tired of his posts getting likes from people he didn’t know and friend requests from people Dutch was friends with. 

plEASE

he has a private facebook for a reason, he doesn’t want other people to know his business. 

he also has an instagram but anything he posts on facebook also goes on there. it’s not aesthetic or pretty or anything and he doesn’t even caption over half his pictures. 

he literally only uses social media so that his friends and family know he’s alive

has snapchat because of Hosea but barely knows how to use it 

doesn’t get why everyone wants to use snapchat when teXTING AND CALLING ARE RIGHT THERE

John

the question is what doesn’t he have.

john has been trying to make it big on social media since youtube came out.

his youtube used to have videos on it but he deleted them because they were cringy and arthur liked to send them to the group text. 

plays twitch games on the weekends and sometimes with Jack but he thinks most of the subscribers are there for his kid since most of his solo streams don’t do as well

has a twitter, doesn’t follow Dutch, literally envies that he’s verified. 

he’s tried everything but no matter what he does nothing pans out

uses tiktok to promote twitch streams

instagram feed is mostly selfies of him but 99.9% of the time he’s wearing sunglasses and the caption is some random quote 

also has facebook but only to appease Arthur and Dutch, he doesn’t even have a profile picture. Claims only boomers use it. 

an avid reddit user. if he’s got problems he’ll go to reddit. claims reddit saved his life. everyone’s tired of the story so they stopped asking. 

also uses snapchat more than he should and the only social platform he has more than 100 followers on. 

Charles

same as arthur and has both facebook and instagram and posts the same on both except his are pleasing to look at. 

they’re unintentionally aesthetic 

he uses a psd on all his pictures and won’t share what it is

has monthly life updates that start with some inspirational or deep quote and then text that pushes the instagram word limit

also has a deviantart , has shared psds there before , constantly tries to convince Arthur to get it. 

used to use tumblr but he forgot about it

Abigail

the definition of a facebook mom. 80% of her facebook posts are about Jack or parenting. 

Instagram is similar but also different, she’s actually a relatively successful influencer with over 1,000 followers. 

all of her friends and family (who have instagram) follow her

has snapchat solely for the cute bitmojis and to send John adorable snaps of Jack playing with all the fun filters. 

she also won’t take a selfie unless it’s with snapchat because she no longer trusts her own camera. 

also uses pinterest and has a collaborative board with all the ladies. 

but in general, on her own, she has too many boards. she uses pinterest for EVERYTHING 

Sadie

bold of you to assume she uses social media. 

she does just not a whole lot. 

checks it once in the morning and once at night. 

except pinterest because how dare Abigail get her into it. but even pinterest she only uses in downtime. 

has facebook and instagram but there’s maybe only five posts.

if anything she’ll post on her story

will only snap Abigail and Arthur otherwise she doesn’t use snapchat

all of the social apps are mostly offloaded on her phone anyways

if she needs to know anything she just checks the group text which she has on do not disturb because they text way too much. 

Molly

she’s verified on instagram 

it’s also the only social platform she’ll use, which frustrates Dutch because he wants to be friends with her on facebook

but she’s happy with just instagram 

she keeps it simple 

and the main theme to her posts are fun outfits in her ever expanding closet

the other posts are usually of plants that she’s managed to grow. she’s not the best at being a plant mom but she’s still a good one to the ones she’s managed to keep alive. 

the only thing she contributes to the pinterest board are her own pictures of her plants which are overly aesthetic. 

Karen

started out with a normal instagram account then made a spam account which she ended up using way more often.

all of her posts are extremely chaotic

and usually reposts from her snapchat

has a reddit just to troll John

reposted his cringy youtube videos to reddit and got hundreds of upvotes

if you wanna see the most raw and chaotic videos of Arthur and John then she’s the one to follow. 

also if you wanna see Abigail when she’s not all put together. 

is the reason there’s so many memes in the collaborative pinterest board

Mary-Beth

has a instagram but also has a second instagram for art and book reviews

or basically anything she’d post on her tumblr

which is her second most used social

also uses facebook but only because she is an admin for one of those multifandom blogs. 

also begs Arthur to get a deviantart. 

uses pinterest most but only second to Abigail

literally the queen of pinterest DIYs

Micah

has twitter

as far as anyone else knows that’s all he has

maybe he has snapchat?

maybe they saw him on snapmaps once? 

all he ever does with twitter though is retweet anything Dutch posts.

yet somehow he has so many followers. 

Lenny

anyone who has snapchat has streaks with Lenny

even Hosea who doesn’t understand why it’s a thing

he also posts a lot on facebook but it’s mostly travel or vacation photos everyone is just a tad jealous of. 

Lenny always seems to be busy but still has time for streaks with his friends. 

he’s also an up and coming youtube vlogger

Sean

also has reddit to troll john

but he also legitimately uses it too. 

he’s also really popular in the minecraft subreddit , don’t ask

also has twitch and also has way more subsribers than John

and a youtube which he’ll upload (overly edited) twitch streams to

everyone subscribes to him but they don’t tell John that.

also has a tiktok and is up to date on all the trends because of course he is

Kieran

got facebook when he was 10 and just never left.

literally doesn’t use any other social media

he’s not in the group text either so he has to facebook message Arthur to know what’s going on. 

but he shares a lot of memes and cute pictures of animals

he used to follow Dutch but unfriended him when he was the only thing he ever had on his activity feed. 

Susan

has facebook but claims she doesn’t have time to use it

Arthur knows this to not be true because she will like a lot of his posts. 

she’s also guilty of liking every single picture in one post or album. 

Arthur has also caught her looking at memes and using recipes she finds on there. 

also part of the pinterest board but never contributes. 

Trelawny

he has an account for everything

like

litereally

everything. 

even whatsapp and linked in and kik

even tinder

the only one anyone knows about are his facebook, twitter, and instagam

but there’s no posts on any of them except twitter

he’s also verified

but for unknown reasons

any posts on his facebook are ones he’s tagged in

he’s also in a lot of facebook groups

Strauss

runs a subreddit

a paid facebook admin of several pages

the only person who actually knows this is Dutch because Strauss has told him about it

he has no online presence whatsoever out side of those.

Javier

spotify king

has over 500,000 subscribers on youtube

uses instagram but as another platform for his music

edits his own album covers

top tier playlists too

Tilly

aesthetic queen

the most put together and pleasing to look at instagram feed next to Charles. 

uses pinterest a lot as inspiration and for making moodboards.

also uses tumblr to share moodboards

part of the sims global community facebook group

she keeps saying she’s going to start a youtube vlog but hasn’t yet

keeps trying to convince John to let her help him with his youtube.

she also uses twitch to play minecraft and sims

oh and she set up a minecraft server for everyone

Bill

facebook boomer

that’s it

I don’t know how else to put it

probably shares heavily republican posts

Swanson

didn’t use social media until tiktok.

he doesn’t do dances or anything but he does post weirdly obscure and chaotic videos that end up trending on more than one occasion

it’s usually drunk ramblings in his car that end up being hilarious

or videos of the others almost dying or ending up in the ER

Pearson

facebook boomer but make it cool.

also shares conservative posts but less offensive ones compared to Bill’s

likes almost every post any of his friends share

also comments on them too

Uncle

does he have social media? no one knows for sure. 

yet somehow he knows what’s going on

even if nobody can find any of his social accounts or have ever seen him using one before let alone doing anything on his phone other than playing cheesy mobile games.

[longing-and-heartache-and-lust]

the drug, the dark, the light, the flame, Ch.I

[next]  [Ao3]

This is the first chapter of my work for the @geraskierbigbang in colaboration with the incredible @gen-syz-art (also on Twitter) as my artist. 

New chapters will be updated five days a week - aside from the weekends - until completion ✨

[When Geralt first comes across the mansion, he comes in because the nearest town is still hours away and he knows Roach is not going to make it that far without rest. 

That is when he meets Julian - the only resident of the truly enormous estate that seems to have everything one might dream of within its walls.

When Geralt returns the second time, he tells himself that it’s only because he wants to thank Julian for his hospitality and help, and not because he wants to see him again, feel the warmth of his fingers against his skin.

And when he returns again after that, he learns that both the mansion and his own heart may not be as simple as they seem.]

See the first art piece by @gen-syz-art here

_______________________________

The first time he comes across the mansion, he's returning from a hunt. 

It’s long past sunset, nearly midnight, and the pale light of the crescent moon is barely enough to illuminate the path that leads Geralt to the gates.

The town he came from is still no less than two hours away, and Roach is already starting to trip, tired after a long ride. If it wasn’t for that, Geralt would’ve probably ignored his own exhaustion, as well as the wounds on his shoulder, but the mare needs rest, and that's what makes him stop when he sees a flickering light behind one of the large windows of the mansion. 

It's hard to tell in the darkness but even so, the building looks immense, as well as the garden around, part of which is separating the mansion from the gates. 

Geralt doesn't want to risk it, doesn't want to wander into a stranger's home, especially at this hour, but he knows that Roach won't make it to the town they came from, and he doesn't know any other places they could stop at along the way. 

So, against his better judgement, he tugs on the reins and stops the horse, jumping down from the saddle with a pained grunt. 

He comes closer to the tall gates, adorned with some intricate design, and pushes on one of the arches, not really expecting for it to give. To his surprise, it does, making no sound as it opens, letting him into the garden. 

"Stay here," he says, turning to Roach before slowly stepping inside, his every sense heightened. 

The path leading up to the mansion is wide enough for a carriage and Geralt can't help but think who it is that's going to open the door if he gets to it. 

Up close, the mansion is even bigger than it seemed from behind the gates, and Geralt isn't sure if he'd ever seen a building that big, even in Novigrad. The Oxenfurt Academy seems bigger when he thinks about it but then again, the Academy is made up out of multiple buildings while the mansion seems to only be one. 

There doesn't seem to be any movement inside but the light behind the windows tells him that there is a fireplace burning, and since it's on the first floor, Geralt figures that it must be a living room or, perhaps, a library, so whoever it is that he's about to meet must still be awake. 

He's almost half-way through the garden when there is a sound somewhere to his right and Geralt instinctively snaps his head towards it, ready for anything that might be hiding in the tall rose bushes but, to his relief, the creature that steps out of its hiding place is not a ghoul or a foglet but a large dog. 

It steps out onto the path in front of the witcher, blocking the way, and growls at him, low and protective, teeth bared and dark eyes directed straight at Geralt. It doesn't seem aggressive and it makes no move towards the witcher but Geralt still knows that he won't be able to make it another step without the animal moving from simply warning him to protecting its owners. 

The dog barks at him, high and loud - the way hunting dogs bark to attract their master's attention - and Geralt already raises his hand to cast an Axii, knowing that otherwise, the animal will not let him pass, when the front door of the mansion opens and a man steps outside, a lit candle in his hand. 

"Asra?" he calls, and the dog's ears perk up. "What is it, girl?"

He comes closer, head tilted slightly to the side as he studies his late-night guest. 

Geralt clears his throat, still making no move towards the mansion or the man in front of him, the dog separating them.

"I apologize for the intrusion," he says, words carefully measured. "My horse is tired and I am unfamiliar with these places, I don't know where it is that we could stop if not here."

The man stops a few steps away from him, and this close, Geralt can see the features of his face. The tentative eyes, sparkling dark-blue in the flickering candlelight, the sharp jawline, the long lashes. 

He cannot be older than twenty-five, Geralt thinks to himself. 

"If you'd be so kind as to let me feed and water my horse, I'll be on my way before long, and won't disturb you any further," he says, not knowing if he should lower his head or not. "I will pay, of course."

The man in front of him stays silent for a moment, then reaches his hand out and beckons the dog closer, sinking his finger into the long fur on its head. 

"You're hurt," he says, indicating at Geralt's shoulder with a move of his head. 

Geralt shrugs it off, even though the pain is getting stronger by what seems like every minute. Up in the saddle, it was easier to ignore it. 

"I dare not disturb you with that," he says. "I only need to give my horse some rest."

The man hums, averting his eyes and biting on the inside of his lower lip. For a few moments, there's silence, and Geralt already wants to apologise and leave but before he gets the chance, the man stops him. 

"I'll open the stables if you let me bandage up those wounds," he says, a glint in his eyes. 

Geralt opens his mouth, then closes it. There are a thousand different ways that he can see this going wrong. He could get lured into the house and robbed - or killed - he could get captured and never make it out or there could simply be a price to pay for the intrusion but there doesn't seem to be a choice. 

And, he admits halfheartedly, there is something about the host that feels welcoming. 

"Alright," he finally says. "If you insist."

The man smiles at that - bright and open, and gestures for Geralt to follow him. 

With a little hesitation, the witcher whistles for Roach and, once the mare catches up with them, follows the man deeper into the garden, towards the stables. 

"And what shall I call you, wayfarer?" the man asks, holding his hand out for Roach to sniff.

It's something about his voice, Geralt decides. 

"Geralt," he says. "Of Rivia."

"Of Rivia?" the man echoes, another smile tugging on the corners of his lips. "I have never been that far South. Heard that the summers there are an absolute wonder."

He stops to bring the burning candle up to the lanterns at either side of the stable doors and turns to face Geralt again.

"I'm Julian."

 ***

 The stables are pleasantly warm after the cold night air. Not even summers in the North are warm enough. 

It's dark inside but Geralt can hear horses breathing in their sleep. By the sound alone, he counts five.

"And what is this lovely creature?" Julian asks, extending his hand towards Roach and getting his fingers into her forelocks when she doesn't object. 

Strange, Geralt thinks, She usually bites at people she doesn't know. 

"Roach," he says, sneaking a look around when his eyes adjust to the darkness. "Like the fish."

Julian hums and opens the door to the nearest stable, gesturing for Geralt to lead the horse inside.

"I'm afraid my stableman is already asleep but there is more than enough food in the feeder and I will get her some water in a minute," he says, patting the mare on the neck and watching Geralt undo her bridle. "She will be at her best tomorrow, you can trust me on that."

Geralt turns to him, hands stilling on the buckles of the saddle. 

"Tomorrow?" he echoes.

Julian nods, the corners of his lips curling up in a soft smile. 

"Surely, I cannot allow for you to travel through the night if there is a place for you to stay? What a horrible host that would make me!"

Geralt wants to objects, wants to say that it's unnecessary and that they'll be on their way once Roach is fed but somewhere deep in his heart, he knows that they both need proper rest. The pain in his shoulder keeps getting worse and if he doesn't sleep or at least meditate, it will grow unbearable by morning.

"That's very kind," he says finally. "Thank you."

He's still waiting. 

Waiting for Julian to take a closer look at him and finally realise that he's a witcher. Waiting for him to say to get out and never come near his estate again. Like everyone always does. 

But Julian doesn't, even as he raises his head and meets Geralt's eyes that he knows are glowing in the darkness, reflecting what little light there is. 

"Come on," he says when Geralt sets the ammunition aside. "Let's get her some water and head inside, those wounds of yours seem pretty bad."

Geralt wants to say that it's nothing, that his regeneration with deal with it on its own after he gets some sleep but he knows that he'd already agreed to this, so he bites his tongue. 

Julian leads him out of the stables and back into the garden, towards a well,  the dog following closely at his side. It doesn’t seem to be afraid of Geralt, unlike most other animals that he comes across in towns or on the Path and he would almost question that but then again, it seems like a hunting dog, so maybe it's just used to protecting its master against any danger. 

"What led you to these regions?" Julian asks, moving the heavy lid of the well with surprising ease, considering his slender figure. "Especially at this time of night."

Geralt feels like he should offer help with getting the water for Roach but he's not sure if that might be overstepping. After all, he's only a late-night guest. 

"Work," he grumbles, tensing when the dog leaves Julian's side to come closer and stiff at him, its long nose reaching all the way to his waist. "I'm a hunter."

Julian chuckles and turns to him, a glint of amusement in his eyes. 

"A hunter with two swords behind his back and a silver medallion?"

Fuck.

"A monster hunter," Geralt adds quickly, telling himself that now it's doesn't count as a lie. 

"A monster hunter," Julian echoes, getting the laces of his off-white shirt out of the way and slapping Geralt's hand away lightly when he finally decides to reach for the bucket full of water. "And what was it that you were hunting? A wyvern I've seen a couple of times in the last months?"

Geralt has not had his hands slapped away from anything in such a long time that for a second, his words fail him and he just stands there, looking at his glove like he's waiting for an imprint of Julian's fingers to appear on the dark leather. 

"Nekkers," he finally says when it doesn't. "Uh, got a contract in a town a couple of hours from here."

Julian sets the lid of the well back into place and clicks his tongue at the dog for it to stop sniffing at Geralt's armour. 

"Sorry for that," he says, turning to walk back towards the stables, Geralt following him a few steps behind. "She's a little distrustful towards strangers, especially at night. But she won't do you any harm."

Geralt isn't particularly scared of the dog because even if it were to bite him, his armour would protect him from the teeth. And even if he wasn't wearing any armour at all, well, he'd had injuries much worse than a dog bite. But it does feel a little reassuring that he's on the dog's good side and doesn't have to think about that, to begin with. 

"You got a contract a few hours away but the nekkers are all the way up in these lands?" Julian asks. "Seems a little far to me."

The witcher hums in agreement and, when the man remains silent, realises that that doesn't seem to be a sufficient answer. 

"The baron that hired me has croplands here," he says, even though it's not true and he's got no idea why the people in town needed him to deal with a nekker nest so far away. With contracts like that, questions weren't really relevant, all that went into account was the coin. "Nekkers killed a couple of his workers and he wanted me to get rid of them."

He doesn't even know why he chooses to lie but Julian doesn't seem to doubt his words, pouring the water out into a basin in Roach's stable and running his hand through his mane before closing the door.

"She will be just fine here," he assures, noticing the concern in Geralt's eyes. "Come on, let me take you inside. I don't imagine a nekker wound should be left unattended."

 ***

  Geralt follows Julian to the front door and when the man pushes it open, hesitates for a split second before stepping into the mansion. 

The hallway is dark, only partially illuminated by the warm flickering light from one of the rooms to the right - the same light that Geralt saw through the windows. 

The dog follows them into the house, brushing over Geralt's leg as it sneaks past him and disappears somewhere in the other end of the seemingly endless hallway.  It's almost ominous, how it just gets lost in the darkness despite the winter-white fur.

"Are you hungry?" Julian asks, leading Geralt into the room with the fireplace that turns out to be a library, just as he'd suspected. 

Geralt is hungry, though it's only now that he realises that. The last time he ate was just after the break of dawn, when he'd just set out and all the tavern was able to offer him was a loaf of pumping bread because it was still too early and the breakfast wasn't yet ready.

"I'm not," he says, still. 

This is already too much, he knows. All he needed was food and water for Roach but now he's staying in the mansion overnight and all of that is already more than he's comfortable with. Asking for anything else would be even worse. 

"Stubborn, aren't you?" Julian says, narrowing his eyes at the witcher like he wants to see if he's going to break under that gaze. 

When Geralt doesn't, the younger man just nods with a soft smile. 

"If you change your mind, let me know."

In the warm light of the fireplace, he looks even younger than he did outside, and Geralt catches himself looking at Julian for a little too long as he moves the logs in the hearth to light the fire a little brighter. His eyes turn out to be bright-blue rather than dark, like cornflowers.

"I can wake my majordomo up for him to take a look at your shoulder," he says, indicating at an armchair for the witcher to sit in with a move of his wrist. "Or I can do that myself. If you don't mind."

Geralt really doesn't know why he even cares but if all he has to do is sit still and let the man bandage him up, it's not a big price to pay for the opportunity to sleep in the safe warmth of a home rather than outside, waking up from every little noise. 

"It's your call," he says, finally. 

Julian nods, resting his hands on his hips and giving Geralt a nearly evaluating look. 

"Stay here for just a minute," he asks. "I will get a clean cloth and be right back."

The witcher hums an affirmative and Julian disappears in the hallway, leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

It feels strange, being here. The expensive carpets on the floors, the paintings and tapestries on the walls, the endless rows of books on polished shelves that climb all the way up to the ceiling, not to mention the overall size of the mansion. 

Geralt feels like he doesn't belong here, like as much as a touch from him, bloodied and dirty after a long hunt, is going to ruin the soft leather of the armchair he's been pointed to along with everything in close proximity. 

There is a very big part of him that wants to leave, just meditate somewhere in the garden while he waits for Roach to have her rest but there is also a part of him - smaller but persistent - that wants to stay. 

It's something about Julian, he decides. Something about the ease that he holds himself with, like he's not afraid of the witcher. Not something that Geralt sees very often. Especially after Blaviken. 

He gets so lost in his thoughts that he almost fails to notice soft footsteps from somewhere behind him and when he turns, he's greeted with a wet press of a dog's nose against his palm. It sniffs at him thoroughly and with interest, and Geralt allows for it, keeping still as not to scare the animal away. It seems a little strange to him that the dog is inspecting him again but what does he know about dogs, really. 

It also seems to be bigger, somehow, because back in the garden its nose could only reach his waist but now it's sniffing at the buckles that go over his ribcage. Or maybe it just seems like it and it did the same exact thing back in the garden. 

"Ah, I see you're making new friends," Julian smiles, reappearing in the room, a towel in one hand and a deep dish filled with water - in the other. 

"I suppose, she likes me more now that I'm not an intruder in your garden," Geralt chuckles and he's surprised to learn that he means it. 

"Oh?" Julian breathes, gesturing for the witcher to sit down. "Oh, no, Asra is upstairs. This is Lucio, her brother. They look identical, I know, he's just a few inches taller."

Fuck, Geralt thinks, Of course, he's got two dogs and not one but fucking shapeshifting. 

Reluctantly, he lowers himself into the chair, watching Julian place a stool beside it to sit down himself, all of his appliances laid out on the nightstand by the chair. Aside from the towel and the dish with water, there are also bandages and a curved needle for stitches along with some thread. 

"You know how to stitch wounds?" Geralt asks before he can stop himself. 

Julian hums an affirmative, waiting for the witcher to undo the buckles of his armour and set it aside. The left sleeve of his worn black shirt is torn where the nekker's claws had slashed against his arm and the fabric is soaked with blood. 

Julian wrinkles his nose but remains otherwise unperturbed. 

"I'm afraid you'll have to take the shirt off, too," he says softly when Geralt makes no move to do so for some time. "Promise I won't look."

To reaffirm his words, Julian puts a hand over his eyes and Geralt can finally feel some of the tension bleed away from his shoulders. He tugs the shirt off over his head, wincing when the fabric, trapped in the wounds with dried up blood, rips away from them, re-opening the cuts. Just before Julian opens his eyes again, Geralt casts a Quen over himself to partially stop the bleeding. 

"Not as bad as I thought," the younger man says, examining his shoulder before gently pressing a towel, warm from the water, to the wounds. 

Geralt watches the white fabric turn red and bites his tongue. 

"I should have a shirt that will fit you," Julian adds, wringing the towel out over the bowl before bringing it back where it was. 

"That won't be necessary," Geralt replies quickly, averting his eyes to look into the fire because if he doesn't, he feels like it's going to get overwhelming again. "I've put you through enough trouble."

The younger man sighs, amused rather than annoyed, his warm breath ghosting against Geralt's damp skin. The witcher expects to feel his eyes on him, lured in by the scars, just like it always is when someone sees him shirtless but Julian remains concentrated on his task, paying to mind to anything else. And it's somehow both worse and better at the same time. Geralt used to people staring - some with interest but most - with disgust - used to them nitpicking at every scar, every mark left on him by claws or fangs or swords, re-opening them again and again but Julian doesn't seem interested in them. His eyes don't flick over Geralt's chest and abdomen once. 

"The guest rooms are in the West wing, on the third floor," Julian says, apparently having decided on letting the shirt go. "I will take you there once I'm done with your shoulder and leave you to rest, unless you've changed your mind about dinner. Would you prefer a room with the windows facing the garden or the forest?"

Geralt wants to say that he's going to be happy with anything he's given but Julian looks at him expectantly and that makes him feel like that answer will not be considered enough. Perhaps even impolite. 

"The forest," he makes himself say. 

And then, after a moment:

"Do you live here alone?"

It's not that he necessarily wants to talk but he doesn't want to sit in silence, either. It feels strange not to say anything. Rude, even. 

Julian shrugs with one shoulder, flicking his eyes up for just a second to look at the witcher. 

"Depends on how you look at it," he says, setting the blood-stained towel aside and reaching for the needle and thread. "My majordomo lives here, in the mansion, and a little further into the garden, there is a house where the gardeners, the housekeepers and everyone else that works for me resides. So technically, no, I don't live here alone. But if you mean family, then yes."

Geralt winces when the needle pierces his skin for the first time but the warmth of Julian's fingers almost makes up for it. 

"Hm," he grunts, non-committal. 

He almost wants to ask why, ask how does he even live in a place this big with only the servants and the dogs to keep him company but once again, he bites his tongue. 

"It's not as lonely as it seems," Julian says after a moment, like he'd read his thoughts. "I have quite a lot of guests. Some of them are friends, some of them are just wayfarers, like you. You're the second witcher that I've had here."

Geralt perks up at that without even realising.

"It was a couple of years ago," Julian goes on, the interest on the witcher face clearly not hidden well enough. "He'd been hunting a griffin and, sadly, lost his horse in the process. As you know, the nearest town big enough to sell horses is hours away from here, and though he knew the general direction of it, making that way on foot wasn't something that could be done in one day, especially with a griffin head strapped to you. So when he stumbled across the mansion late at night - just like you - what could I do but let him in?"

Geralt chuckles, low in his throat. 

"It's not very wise to let strangers into your home like this," he says because he cannot help himself. "Especially at night. And especially witchers."

The younger man just waves at him dismissively, a smile softening the features of his face. 

"Yes, well-" he says, flicking his eyes up once more before going back to his stitches. "I'm still alive, am I not? And currently helping you stay that way, as well."

His warm fingers ghost over Geralt's skin as he tightens the last stitch and sets the needle aside, studying his work critically. 

"Besides," he adds, bringing the towel to the witcher's shoulder once again to wipe off thin trails of blood before reaching for the bandages. "He was very nice. Named Aiden. He was the one who taught me to stitch wounds."

The name doesn't ring a bell, so Geralt takes a guess:

"A Griffin?"

Julian chuckles and shakes his head, wrapping the bandages around Geralt's shoulder with admirable precision. The voluminous sleeves of his chemise keep getting in the way but he doesn't roll them up. Geralt chooses not to mention it.

"A Cat," the younger man says. "I know, I know, I had the same reaction when I saw the medallion."

He tucks the ends of the bandage under one of the layers and pats Geralt on the arm, reaching for the towel to wipe the blood off his hands. 

"There you go," he says, getting up. "Good as new."

Geralt rolls his shoulders and, to his delight, the bandages stay just as they are. He gets up, reaching for his shirt, ignoring the blood and the tears on the sleeve. 

"Thank you."

Julian's eyes flick over him just once, from the waist of his trousers and all the way to his shoulders, and then he's averting his eyes with a warm smile. 

"Of course."

It's getting very late, probably closer to dawn than it is to midnight and when Geralt think that he could've still been on the road at this time, there is a little shiver that runs up his spine.

"Are you sure I can't offer you something to eat?" Julian asks, blinking a little owlishly. 

He's clearly only half-awake now that he's done with Geralt's shoulder and so is the witcher, so even though some food would've been nice, he still shakes his head. 

"Alright," the younger man agrees, though he doesn't seem particularly thrilled about it. "In the morning, then."

 ***

 Julian takes him through the long hallways of the mansion, illuminating the way with a flickering light of a candle, Lucio following him closely, his white fur brushing against Julian's thigh. 

When they get to the wide staircase, Asra appears from behind it and joins them. 

"Do they follow you everywhere?" Geralt asks, because in the silence, he feels like the mansion is never going to end.

"Oh?" the younger man breathes, turning to look at the witcher. "Oh, the dogs? Yeah, they're always somewhere close."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Geralt thinks that those dogs are probably worth hundreds of crowns each, maybe even thousands. When the cold moonlight touches their fur, they don't even look real.

In some strange way, the entire mansion feels that way. 

But Geralt tells himself that he's just tired and in the morning, it's going to feel different. New places always seems strange the first night, he'd spent enough years on the Path to know that. 

They make it up the stairs onto the third floor and turn into the West wing, walking down yet another endless hallway until they get to the very end of it, where Julian stops and opens a door to the right, inviting Geralt inside with a move of his hand. 

"I do hope you find this room comfortable," he says, staying in the hallway and keeping the dogs at his side. "Join me for breakfast in the morning?"

Geralt knows that he should leave as soon as he can, knows that this is already so much more than he'd initially asked for but before he can stop himself, he already agrees.

"Would love to."

Julian shines with a smile and somehow, he almost looks relieved. 

"Alright," he nods, handing Geralt the burning candle and turning to leave. "Goodnight then, Geralt."

[purpletaecup]

10 ☾ he said that’s how he still remembers me

warnings: explicit language (cursing), mentions of miscarriage, mentions of infidelity (not rlly but on thin ice)

notes: you guys... this is a long one and it’s kind of fast paced, but we are finally getting some answers and the drama really begins! next chapter will be emotional, that’s all I know. I’m sorry for putting you through all this angst!! also, I wanted to bring some attention to the crisis in the Philippines right now with all of the dangerous typhoons. A lot of people need donations and rescuing, so HERE is a link to a twitter thread of donation drives! Please make sure to check it out, share and help spread awareness!

as always, come talk to me in my ask box! and if you want to be added to the taglist, please send an ask, or reply to this post or the masterlist!

not edited!! sorry if there are any mistakes lmfao i usually am sleep deprived when i write so yeah, there are probably some errors.

word count: 5,614

☾

The days following Jungkook’s visit were dull, if anything. You’ve received texts from Yoongi saying that he couldn’t come visit until that weekend because he had to finish wrapping things up in advance at the company so that he could spend some time with you. You had argued over the phone like teenagers when you insisted that he didn’t need to do that and you could take care of yourself until Jin came back. Of course, that led to him ranting about what the doctor said about monitoring you and your symptoms for concussion and to get him to just shut up about the medical stuff (it made your brain hurt more than it did usually), you reluctantly agreed to his ‘visits’, as you’d rather call them.

[nov. 20, 2020]

It was Friday now and you still haven’t gotten any glimpse of actual memories back, although you have been having these strange dreams that you couldn’t really remember when you woke up. You could only describe the feeling it gave you as ‘sinking’, like you were drowning and you couldn’t escape. As much as possible, you tried not to think about these feelings, and focused more on trying to get to know the version of you who lived in this amazing apartment.

The past couple of days that you spent at this apartment put you in awe. It really was the apartment of your dreams, from the color of the furniture down to the little plants stuck in the corner of that tiny shelf in the kitchen. It was beautiful and so you. The only problem was that you couldn’t find anything to help with your current situation. You scoured every nook and cranny and couldn’t find anything dated after your wedding reception. No pictures, no post-its, notes or anything past that date. What you had found in your apartment, you already knew of (aside from the wedding photos). Past photoshoots, high school photos, a notebook full of movie ticket stubs. There was absolutely nothing in this apartment that gave you a clue to the life you lived during the four year gap in your memory.

You even tried to get into your twitter and instagram from when you were nineteen but you couldn’t log in. Wrong password every single time. When you tried to change your password for social media, the email you used had a different password too. You couldn’t figure out what you could have changed your password to. Every password combination you could think of, you tried, but none worked, so you decided to just skip that and maybe go over it later on. Or make a new one. That could work, too.

You couldn’t even look at your twitter account because for some reason, it was private and that seemed strange for someone with almost 130,000 followers. You could see your instagram account from your browser, but it wouldn’t let you see the pictures and posts in full size with the captions and comments, so you were really stuck.

A quick internet search of your name yielded things you already knew. Former model, current writer (that fact was still surprising to you). Old news articles of dating scandals that weren’t true, except for the one with Yoongi. More news articles about your divorce with no further information than what Yoongi had told you already.

It’s as if any clue about your life during your memory loss is unaccounted for. It seemed like at this point, you could only rely on other people telling you about your life and pray to whatever higher power there was to give you your memories back.

This futile search was beginning to make your stomach churn. You almost couldn’t suppress the bile rising up in your throat. Hopefully Jin would return soon. Maybe he could put all of the pieces back together for you.

☾

Jungkook sat in on the uncomfortable leather couch in Yoongi’s office as he waited for the man to finish up whatever he was typing. He looked through his instagram feed and saw one of your posts from July. For a while, he was confused as to why this picture from July would end up on his feed, but he remembered the new instagram algorithm. Curious, he clicked on your profile and looked through it slowly. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually paid attention to your posts.

“I forgot to ask but what did you and Yn do at her apartment? She said you stayed over for a couple of hours.” Yoongi asked though his eyes never strayed from his paperwork.

Jungkook looked up at him and pondered on what to say.

“Hm, yeah. I got roped into staying. She asked a bunch of questions and we looked through her apartment and her photo albums. Her apartment’s cute, by the way. Way different from what your house looked like.” He comments.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was bright. Lots of green. Nothing I’ve ever seen in the house you guys shared.”

“How was she when you picked her up? She told me a couple of things but I haven’t seen her yet so I can’t know if what she’s telling is the truth or not.”

It was quiet for a moment, with only the sound of turning pages filling the room, as Jungkook wondered what to say to this. He didn’t really know when to start with you, especially with how different you were acting.

“Well, she’s fine. The personality is definitely different. She seems a lot more outgoing, and she had a lot of questions but she didn’t push. I think she wants to try and figure things out on her own.” Jungkook replies as he continued to slowly look through your previous instagram posts.

“She’s been like that. She hates being a burden and gets really defensive about it sometimes.” Yoongi comments.

Jungkook pauses at your most recent post. He checks the date. September 22.

“When did you guys divorce again?” He asked.

At this, Yoongi looked up.

“The divorce was finalized on September 29, I think.” He answered, but looked questioningly at Jungkook as if to ask why.

“Did you know she was going to therapy?” Jungkook asked again.

Hearing this, Yoongi stood up abruptly and hurried over to where Jungkook was sitting.

“What? Where did you see that?” Yoongi asked as he looked over Jungkook’s shoulder.

Jungkook showed him the post. Yoongi took the phone from him and examined the post carefully.

It was a picture of clouds with text on it. Is this the life we really want? The caption read “as per the advice of my therapist, i’m just here to pop in and say that I’ll be going on a hiatus for a little bit”.

“What the fuck? I didn’t know this!” Yoongi yelled, evidently angry.

Jungkook looked at him confused. They were together for four years, how could he not know that you were at least going to therapy?

The same question was running through Yoongi’s head. He took a seat next to Jungkook to process this new information.

“Hyung, can I ask you a couple of questions?” Jungkook requested.

Yoongi could only nod.

“What was Yn like when you were together? Why did you marry her?” Those were the first questions that came out of Jungkook’s mouth.

He was truly, genuinely curious. Though he’s heard some things that Yoongi had said about you, he never knew the full story.

“We married each other because we loved each other. Wasn’t that obvious?” Yoongi retorted.

Jungkook pursed his lips at this. “Well that's what you tell everybody and yeah we get it, but considering the fact that I’ve barely seen you two together more than two handful of times in the past two years, I had to ask.”

“That’s because we were both busy, but that didn’t mean we didn’t spend time together. Of course you never saw it because you weren’t there and I’m not one to actively talk about my love life. Yn and I both liked our privacy.”

“Okay, then what was she like when you were together?”

Yoongi was quiet for a while. There were a lot of things he could say about you when you were together. He just didn’t know how to articulate it to Jungkook.

“When we were together… she was charismatic, beautiful and intelligent. Something about the way she communicated made you feel like you could forget about all of your worries and live life to its extent with her. She constantly dragged me out to picnics and made me forget about the business and my career. She made me feel young again. And she had so much love and care for people around her. For a long time, I felt like I would never be deserving of her. She was kind of like a sunflower. Or sunshine, you know what I mean?” Yoongi poured out.

Jungkook nodded. He realized that this was the time to try to figure out what happened to you in your marriage. From his conversation with you at your apartment, to the description of you that Yoongi had just given, he surmised that the version of you that he knew was someone different and he could only wonder if Yoongi saw it too.

“Did you ever feel like she changed? In the time you guys were together?” He probed.

Yoongi thought about it for a while.

“Yeah, I think so. I always found it strange that she decided to quit modelling.  When I met her, she said it was all she ever wanted. I never asked because it seemed like a sensitive topic to her, but I supported her regardless. Writing seemed so out of nowhere for her. I don’t know where it came from. Then she stopped wanting to go to business dinners and events with me and after that we just drifted. And in between that, you introduced me to Yura.”

When Yoongi mentioned Yura, Jungkook winced. He had thought about it some nights ago, but he realized that he might have had a hand in your divorce by introducing Yura to Yoongi. Though he knows Yoongi would have never physically cheated on you, he could see how Yoongi and Yura gravitated towards each other. Jungkook had to admit that Yura was a sweet girl. She was beautiful, and when she smiled it was like sunshine.

Yoongi interrupted his train of thought. “Yura is kind of a complicated subject to our marriage. I would never, ever cheat on someone I loved. And I loved Yn, so much. When you introduced Yura to me, I was happy to meet a new friend and that’s all I saw, but the more you made me hang out with you guys, the more I started to see something in her that I stopped seeing in Yn. I never meant to have any sort of romantic feelings for Yura, but it happened and I feel so fucking shitty for doing that to Yn when I’m the one who promised her a lifetime together.”

Jungkook straightened his posture as Yoongi’s confession.

“Wait, what do you mean by that?” He asked.

“By what?” Yoongi looked at him confused.

“What happened to Yn that pushed you to Yura?”

At this, Yoongi scratched his head.

“I wouldn’t say that it pushed me to Yura, but remember when I said Yn and I started getting distant? As time went on, I felt like she changed and I didn’t know who she was. She used to be so bubbly and happy and always wanting to go look at flowers, but towards the end of our marriage, she stayed holed up in our room no matter how much I asked her to spend time with me. Yura, she was happy to spend time with me. She made me feel like I could forget about everything just by talking to me.”

“Yura made you feel like how Yn used to make you feel?” Jungkook cut him off.

“Well… I guess so.”

Jungkook thought about this for a while but narrowed his eyes at his hyung.

“Hyung, answer this truthfully; do you love Yura?”

The tips of Yoongi’s ears turned red after hearing this.

“Love? I don’t know. I like her? I like the way she makes me feel. She’s beautiful and smart and she makes me happy.”

“Hyung, I don’t know if you realize this, but the way you described Yura is exactly the same way you described Yn.”

“What do you mean?”

“It sounds like you started liking Yura because she reminded you of Yn when you met her. So, do you really, truly like Yura? Or do you just like her because she reminds you of what you don’t have anymore?”

Yoongi lowered his head.

“I-I don’t know. I never thought of it like that.”

Jungkook put his hand on Yoongi’s back to comfort him. Obviously, the man was confused.

“I don’t know if this helps, but I just wanted to let you know that whenever I saw Yn, during those dinners or events, she never gave off the vibe that you described her to be. To me, she was quiet, reserved and never bothered trying to get to know us, your friends, or your business. That’s what she came off as. When you told us that you loved each other and that you eloped, I thought you were joking. When I saw her, she just seemed like the typical trophy wife. Just for show. I never liked her and wondered what you saw in her all the fucking time, but now after hearing this, and after being with her for a couple of hours, it’s obvious that something happened that fucked her up and then fucked your marriage up.” Jungkook ranted.

“I think you might need to reevaluate the relationship you had with Yn so we could help her recover from this whole amnesia thing and hopefully figure out what happened. Something definitely happened, but since I don’t know your marriage like you do, I don't know what it is. I feel guilty now after realizing that I might have had a hand in whatever the fuck she was going through. And maybe figure out what you’re going to do about Yura. Can you keep dating her when your feelings for her are based off of your feelings for your ex-wife, who is currently pregnant with your wife and doesn’t know about it?” He continued.

Yoongi took a deep breath, taking all of this conversation in.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m almost done with the shit here at the company. When I go home, I’ll sort everything out and talk to Yn and Yura tomorrow. I don’t think I can keep seeing Yura with the current situation. I have to tell Yn about the pregnancy as soon as possible, but I’m scared because the doctor told me to monitor for residual symptoms for her concussion. I don’t even know where to begin with the situation.”

“It’s okay, hyung. I’m here for you. You have to tell her about the pregnancy before she finds out herself. In the meantime, I’ll help you out when you can’t take care of her. I already feel shitty enough for how I acted with her when you two were married. I feel like I had the wrong impression this whole time.” Jungkook offered.

Yoongi remembered the moment earlier when Jungkook confessed that he never liked you and that baffled him because he thought that you two, of all people, would get along well together. More often than not, he would feel jealous of Jungkook, who had your admiration when you first started dating. He remembered you always asking him to introduce you to Jungkook and it took a year for him to budge and actually make it happen.

“I’m sure you’ll get along now. I always thought you did get along. Did you know she liked you before?” Yoongi asked.

Jungkook shook his head. “I didn’t know until the other day when you had me take her home. It probably would have helped if you told me she knew who I was before you introduced us after you got together. She never acted like she was a fan of my music and admittedly, I was a dick to her.”

Yoongi glared at him. It was a first for him to hear about how Jungkook treated his ex-wife.

“Well, you should feel shitty because she really liked you and your music. For a while, I thought she liked you more than me. If I had known you were an asshole to her, I probably would have ripped you a new one. Hearing you admit you treated her like shit makes me feel like shit because I never knew and just assumed you guys were good with each other. You didn’t do or say anything bad to her, right? You’re not that type of person.”

Jungkook could only pretend to smile at Yoongi as he asked this.

He shook his head and lied. “No, never.”

Lying through his teeth to his best friend about how he treated you made his heart fall to his stomach. Well, Yoongi didn’t have to know because it was in the past. You couldn’t remember any of the mean things he’d said to you, so now was the perfect time to make a new, much better impression of himself to you. He decided days ago that he would be better, because deep down, he knew that you didn’t deserve to be treated like how he treated you.

[nov. 21, 2020]

Yoongi had taken the day off after his somewhat enlightening conversation with Jungkook last night. He decided that he needed to go see you and spend some time with you today, but before that, he needed to settle things with Yura.

They decided to meet up at his apartment for maximum privacy, just in case anything happened. He wanted to account for the worst case scenario of Yura probably getting angry and throwing things around, but he doesn’t think she’s the type of person to do dramatic things like that.

Turns out, she’s not. When he reluctantly tells her that he can’t continue on with what they had because of residual feelings for you, in addition to the fact that there were complications in that relationship that he can’t speak about carelessly, she had reacted calmly and amicably. Though Yoongi hadn’t expected her to throw a tantrum, he was expecting some kind of anger, but all he got was a sad look passing on her face followed by comforting words.

He apologized profusely for having dragged her around when he still had apparent feelings for his ex-wife and not figuring out his feelings for her, or lack thereof, sooner. She reassured him that it was okay and she’ll be fine.

“I’ll be fine Yoongi. I liked you, but it’s pretty obvious that you used me as some kind of rebound or replacement for your ex-wife, and I was okay with it. Truthfully, I was waiting for you to just come clean and break it off with me. I hope you and Yn figure things out this time, and I hope you can talk to her. Communication is important.” She reminds him before she leaves, but not before letting him know that she would always be there for him as a friend.

He had texted her after she left, and after a couple of minutes to himself, that he was thankful for her being so nice about the situation and all in all, he didn’t regret whatever short-lived affection they had for each other.

Yoongi still couldn’t believe how smoothly everything with Yura went. He hoped that the rest of the day would be the same.

☾

You woke up to a message from Jungkook asking if you were free, so you had to tidy up the apartment and yourself because you didn’t want to look messy in front of someone you had idolized for a long time.

Luckily enough, you didn’t have to cook since Jungkook offered to bring food. You thank your lucky stars for that because for some reason, you’ve been feeling incredibly sluggish and nauseous. It was probably some symptoms of the concussion you suffered. You remembered your doctor saying something about that the last time you were at the hospital.

About 20 minutes later, you heard your doorbell ring so practically skip to the door, excited to see Jungkook and steal the food that he brought.

You opened the door to see Jungkook standing there with a big back of food in his hands. He was wearing all black, with a leather jacket that looked a tad too big on him.

“You look warm.” You comment.

He rolled his eyes. “Are you gonna invite me in or not? I even brought you food.”

You laugh a little and move to the side to give him room to step inside the apartment.

“So, what have you been doing?” He asks as he makes his way to your dining room to put the food down.

You make your way to the kitchen to get some plates for the both of you.

“Nothing. I’ve been trying to look for some stuff but I don’t know where to start so I just gave up until you or Yoongi could come help.” You reply as you move to the dining room to set the plates down.

Jungkook takes the food out and puts some on the plates. Kimbap, like you asked, and some seaweed soup.

“How have you been feeling? Okay?” He questioned.

You nodded, though hesitantly.

“Eh, I’ve been feeling kind of tired. I think I might be sick because I keep wanting to vomit. Is that my wintermelon tea, by the way?” You pointed to the drink in his hand.

Jungkook poked the straw through the lid and handed it to you.

“Sick? Did you take any medicine? Are you feeling better now?”

You took a sip of your tea and sighed, missing the sweet taste of the drink. It felt nostalgic.

“Mhm, took some earlier and I'm feeling much better thanks to the food you brought!” You smiled.

Jungkook rolled his eyes jokingly once again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

He didn’t think about your illness any further. It was probably a cold and nothing else.

For about 20 minutes, the two of you ate and spoke about little things, mostly about Jungkook and his career. It helped you get to know him a little bit better since he’s the only person besides Yoongi who could help you in your situation until Jin comes back.

After you finished eating, you told him that you needed his help going through your room in case there was anything that could jog your memory.

“I would ask Yoongi but he’s been busy lately.”

“So I’m just your last resort?”

“You’re literally the only other person in my contact list besides Yoongi and Jin.”

“Right, anyways, lead the way!” He exclaimed.

You laughed as you led him to the room at the end of the hallway.

“Sorry if it’s a little messy, I didn’t have that much time to clean up before you got here!” You explained.

Jungkook shook his head, telling you it didn’t really matter since it was gonna be a mess anyways while you two went through your things.

☾

When Jungkook walked into your room, he was once again hit with the feeling that he had no fucking clue who you were in the past years he’d known you. If he could describe your room in one word, it would be enchanting. White walls, white sheets adorn with a baby blue blanket, wooden floors, giant plants and a mirror much bigger than himself. Your desk was filled with different kinds of pens, different notebooks that look to have been trifled through, and an unnatural amount of books and crystals.

From the looks of the rest of your house, he probably shouldn’t be surprised at your bedroom, but it’s still a bit difficult for him to wrap his mind around the fact that you were this type of person. Bright, intelligent, and incredibly neat.

He walked up to your desk and picked up the different notebooks laid out messily on the table. When he opened each of them, he noticed that they were mostly blank, with the exception of a few doodles. There were some things he’d recognized as lyrics from songs he knew, but nothing truly relevant to the memories you lost.

You stood next to Jungkook and looked at the notebooks in his hands.

“I went through those already. Nothing but a few sad lyrics here and there. None of them triggered any memories.” You mentioned.

Jungkook put them down and started walking around the room with you as you talked about what you did find during the days that you were left alone. What he got from that conversation was that you had no luck with anything and that’s why you waited until either he or Yoongi could come over and help you. Jungkook knew that Yoongi was coming over later, so if he couldn’t help you find anything or answer any of your questions today, then maybe Yoongi could.

“Oh! I forgot to mention that I can’t even access any of my social media, so do you think I can look through my instagram through your phone? I mean, if that’s okay with you. I know some people feel uncomfortable giving their phone to someone else to play around with.” You asked.

Jungkook shook his head and stuck his hand in his pant pocket, reaching for his phone.

“It’s fine, you can look at your profile, I think I follow you. The password is 061313.” He stated as he handed his phone over to you.

You grabbed it excitedly, finally getting the chance to see what your life was like during the four years that were missing from your memory. You fell back onto your bed as you unlocked Jungkook’s phone and clicked on his instagram app quickly.

You took a look at his profile first, staring in awe at the pictures he’s posted. Most of his pictures are very dark and he had quite a few selfies. You smiled a little bit as you admitted in your head that he was indeed handsome.

Okay, Yn, onto the more important things! You thought to yourself as you quickly searched your username ‘faeyn’ on the search bar. At first you were excited, but it deflated when you saw just how many posts you had. 13 posts. And almost all of them were just landscapes. Some had pictures of you by yourself, or with Jin, but that was it. How the fuck were you supposed to try to figure out your life through 13 pictures?

Scrolling through each picture and their captions from the oldest to newest, you quickly realized that you must have decided that privacy was something that should be valued. There was nothing of substance to your situation in the captions you’d written. Just casual mentions of how your day was, or what you did that day. The only thing that caught your eye was the latest post you had, dated September 22. It was a picture of clouds and the caption said something about your therapist advising you to take a break, so you were going to be on a social media cleanse for a while.

Well, at least you learned one thing. Apparently, you started going to therapy again. For what? You don’t know. You only remembered going to therapy a couple of times after the whole incident with your bastard ex-boyfriend.

You filed this little detail into your brain and hoped that maybe it would make more sense later on. Swiping up on Jungkook’s phone took you to his home screen, but you paused for a little. Maybe you could snoop through some more apps and see if there was anything else you can find.

No, that would be an invasion of Jungkook’s privacy, you thought. Another part of you argued that he wasn’t going to know and he’s here to help you. If there was anything worth hiding, he wouldn’t have given you his phone and his password so easily. And if there was anything, it wouldn’t be incriminating since he mentioned that you two didn’t really know each other that well, so you shrugged and clicked on his messages.

I’ll just see if there are any messages to me. I won’t look at anything else, you justified, as if it made it any better.

After scrolling for a little while, you finally saw something worthwhile. A text convo between you and Jungkook and from the preview of the message, it looks like it was from the middle of September. You opened it, excited to see the contents, but what you saw made you furrow your brows.

What is this?

☾

After Jungkook gave you his phone, he continued walking around your room until he got to the side of your bed that was next to the window. He looked around for a bit and saw something in the corner of his eyes. Crouching down lower, he saw something on the floor behind your headboard. He couldn’t tell what it was at first, but as soon as he moved closer, he realized it was a thick notebook. Jungkook surmises that you probably hadn’t seen it despite telling him that you looked ‘everywhere’. He took the notebook and sat down on the floor, completely hiding his figure, but not before he could look at you. He wanted to see what was in the notebook before he showed it to you, and luckily enough, you had been facing away from him.

So he sat down and opened the notebook. From just the first page, he could tell it was some kind of diary or journal. There were lots of drawings and stickers and a picture of you in a field of flowers right in the middle of the first page. He flipped through the whole notebook really quickly and found that half of it was already filled.

A part of him wanted to read through the whole thing and see what kind of things you wrote, but another part told him that it wasn’t appropriate. Despite that, he convinced himself that he should read maybe just one entry, just to see if this notebook was something substantial to your current situation.

Jungkook took a peek at you again and noticed you still had your back turned to him so he took that as a sign that he could probably get away with reading an entry. He flipped to a page randomly and focused his eyes on the writing.

The entry was dated August 4, 2020. Fairly recent. He noticed that there were some dark blotches on the paper that made the ink bleed.

He began to read the entry, not knowing what he was going to find out.

It still seems weird to be writing about my problems in a journal. I’m still not used to it, but it’s been helpful since I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this.

That made him frown.

I went to my OBGYN today because I’ve been having severe cramps and bleeding, but I already had my period so I was worried. And the cramps were starting to really hurt, so I had to go get it checked out just in case. Well, apparently I was pregnant and lost the baby.

Jungkook’s eyes widened and he gasped audibly. Luckily enough, it wasn’t loud enough for you to notice. He clasped his hand over his mouth at the disbelief in reading this information. A miscarriage? And so recent, too. He didn’t know how to feel. Yoongi had never said anything about this.

Jin actually just left my house a couple of hours ago. I don’t think the news hit me until now. I texted Yoongi earlier to tell him but he was busy so I think that was a sign that I should probably not tell him. It’s not like it matters right? Since the baby was gone anyways.

I know my therapist told me to stop with the negative self-talk, but it’s moments like this that really push me to just keep thinking I’ll never be good enough for the men that I love. Thanks to my bastard ex for fucking my mind up like this. No matter how hard I try, I always just circle back to the fact that I wasn’t good enough for him, and that I’m not good enough for Yoongi. Even fate is telling me that I’m not good enough to carry a child with the man I love. How fucked up is that?

Jungkook’s heart dropped to his stomach. He felt sick. There were so many things going through his head right now. He felt like he was violating something that was so private. Yoongi didn’t even know that you went through this. You didn’t even know you went through this. He shut the journal quickly, wiping the tears that formed in his eyes.

At that exact moment, he heard your heavy breathing and quickly got up to check on you. He walked around to your side of the bed and found you trembling with his phone in your hands. He noticed that his messages were open and he began to panic.

“What the fuck is this?” was the last thing he heard you say before your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you fell limp into your bed.

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[footballfanfictions]

The thrill of the chase - Chapter Two

Pairings: Mason Mount/OC, Ben Chilwell/OC

Authors Note: Sorry that this has taken a little longer than anticipated and thank you so much for all the love for the first part.

--------------------------------------------------------------

One of the main drawbacks of working with social media, is that you are always on social media and you’re constantly bombarded with information and images that make you feel downright crap about yourself.

I’d been asked to take over the instagram page of one of the high profile players at the club and his entire feed was just one supermodel and influencer after the other with the odd footballer thrown in to balance it out. They were all so stunning that it truly made me feel awful about myself, how could it not? My salary was pretty good for a new graduate but not quite good enough for weekly manicures, lip fillers and hair extensions and my time management wouldn’t stretch for that either, I barely made my eyebrow wax appointments.

I was trying to avoid looking at the player’s DMs while I posted a few pictures from the pre-season training sessions to his feed, but the notifications pinging every few minutes was getting quite annoying.

Has it been Brianna with access to his account and not me, she would have gone straight to his messages to read them. I preferred to live in blissful ignorance to the sleazy ways of the men around me. I already felt like finding a good guy was absolutely hopeless.

I had been renting a flat and I was saving for a deposit to buy a house, hoping that by the time I had saved up enough to buy that I would have found the right person to live with. If I were to attempt this alone, with London house prices I would be around  60 by the time I had saved enough alone.

The message notifications continued to come in and whoever Sam was, she was really keen.

I logged out after posting the final image and prayed I wouldn’t have to go into it again. The less I knew about their private lives, the better. It would be pretty awkward to be sat in the staff and players’ family box at a game knowing that the wife of someone I knew was cheating was close by. Best to steer clear of those complications.

Brianna hadn’t visited my office at all and by 12 I was both worried and hungry and decided to go looking for her.

I tried the kit room first but it was empty and surprisingly tidy. Dave kept a tight ship and liked everything to be in its place but it wasn’t often possible with the sheer volume of kits that needed to be looked after.

As I backed out of the kit room and closed the door, I felt something hit me in the back.

“Sorry” mumbled the voice from behind me. “I was looking for Dave, I need a new top.”

I knew who it was but I didn’t really want to turn around and look at him.

“They’re not in there, I was just looking for him and Brianna too.” I responded in an emotionless tone, shrugging.

“Why are you being so weird?” he asked.

I turned to face him then and gave him a look of contempt before I answered him. “Maybe I just don’t enjoy spending time around footballers?”

“No offence love, but I think you might be in the wrong job if that is the case.” he put his hand on the door, next to my head where I was practically pinned against the door by how close he was to me. Only then did I realise that the training top that he was wearing was ripped, front he shoulder to his navel, the material hanging and exposing his toned chest and abs. I tried to look away but he had caught me looking and was now smirking.

“Maybe it’s just you that puts me off.” I shrugged as I ducked under his arm, escaping from my position between him and the door.

“You really don’t like me?” He huffed. “I don’t remember doing anything to offend you personally.”

“Maybe I’m offended that privileged young lads get money, fame and praise just for kicking a ball around a muddy field. Try something more impressive, like curing cancer or performing life saving surgery, ending world hunger, ending wars.” I groaned in frustration. Maybe that was the truth of it. Why should he get all the praise and admiration that he got, just for playing a sport? There were so many incredible people in the world doing, or working towards the things in that list that never got half the praise that Mason Mount did for kicking a ball.

He looked a bit dumb struck.

I went in again, “Maybe I don’t like you assuming that I should be into you, just because you’re Mason Mount, England and Chelsea midfielder. Maybe that’s what the girls in the club that throw themselves at your feet are into, but it’s not for me.”

I made to leave and he grabbed my hand and mumbled, “Sorry, I’ll leave you alone from now on.”

I didn’t respond. Just pulled my hand from his and stormed off towards the boot room, leaving him outside of the kit room in his ripped shirt.

“Fuck it smells like feet in here.” I complained, walking into the boot room with my nose pinched between my fingers in disgust.

“When I said that I liked shoes to dad, this is not what I meant.” Brianna laughed.

“What are you doing in here, I didn’t think boots were part of your job?” I asked, perching on one of the benches while Bri sat on the floor, sorting through a massive pile of boots to try and match up the pairs. They were in all sorts of bright colours and differing sizes. If I had to guess, I’d guess that she had been at her task for hours.

“Dad and the boot guy had some sort of emergency” she shrugged.

I laughed at that, wondering what kind of emergency you could have that involved kits and boots. Maybe they hadn’t ordered the right brand or something and one of the stars wasn’t going to get his cash from his boot deal if they didn’t find him the right pair.

There was a little tap on the sliding glass door that lead out onto the pitches and stood there was the guy from the other day that had held the door to the cafeteria open for us. He looked a little sheepish.

“Are you going to let him in?” I asked Bri, trying to unbury her from the pile of boots by throwing some of them into a pile, all of the orange ones in one corner, the yellow in another pile and pink in another and so on.

“Oh yeah.” she said, standing and brushing herself off, and adjusting her skirt that rode up her thighs slightly. The guy had noticed and I watched as he tried to look away and then down at his feet. At first I hadn’t thought that his shyness was that genuine. Footballers were all confident cocky little shits in my book, I’d never met one that was shy and unsure of himself.

Bri unlocked the door and let him in.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but only one of these fits” he said, holding up a pair of lime green boots and giving Bri an apologetic smile.

“Oh shit” she said, taking the pair from him and inspecting them. “I’ve given you one 10 and one 9.5.” she looked through the pile of lime green boots until she said “aha!” triumphantly brandishing another size 10 boot. “Here you go my love.”

That as just Bri’s way, she called everyone little pet names all the time, but he didn’t know that and he was blushing profusely and I was almost certain that his hands were shaking as he laced the boots up.

“Thank you so much.” he mumbled, looking like he was about to die of embarrassment. He turned to walk back out of the sliding door, but hadn’t realised that Bri had shut it behind him, so he ended up walking straight into the glass, hitting it with enough force to emmit a cracking noise from his nose which was suddenly streaming with blood.

I jumped up from my seat and crossed the room to him, avoiding the piles of boots the best that I could, not wanting to add myself to the casualty list.

I had an unused tissue in my pocket, that I took out and pressed to his nose. It was instantly bright red and the blood poured straight through it.

“Bri can you go and warn the medical room that we need to bring him down?” I asked.

She nodded in agreement and rushed out of the room.

I put my arm around his waist and guided him back over to the benches. He sat down and I slipped my cardigan off. It was a very thin material and already a deep shade of red. I didn’t let him protest as I replaced the tissue with my cardigan. It was the best that we had, and he looked like he was in a lot of pain.

“I’ve never seen anyone get that flustered before.” i laughed, sitting down beside him. He managed to give me a pained grin.

‘It’s Bri isn’t it? Is she why you were waiting by the canteen door the other day?” I asked gently, patting him reassuringly on the back. “I wanted to send her out of the room so that I could ask you, and also to reassure you that you shouldn’t be embarrassed about this. I’ve seen Bri do a lot more embarrassing things. She’s always falling over and hurting herself. You would make quite the pair.” I laughed.

He shook his head and mumbled “I can’t ask her out”.

“Why the hell not?” i scoffed.

“She has a boyfriend doesn’t she?” he shrugged, looking really sombre.

“Ah no, not anymore. Things are definitely over between her and that prick, and between you and me, if she ever gets back together with him, I’ll give her a matching broken nose.” I bumped shoulders with his, trying to cheer him up, just as Bri came back into the room and told us that the medical room were waiting for him.

“Can you come with me?” he asked, not talking to Bri, but to me instead.

“Sure, I would do anything to get out of work this afternoon. Our twitter page today is just full of fans that are disappointed that we didn’t use the Hazard money to sign Messi.” I laughed, getting up and guiding him towards the door.

“Can we catch up later?” I asked Bri before leaving the room, she nodded and told me she would be free all evening.

As we walked down the corridor I said to him “See, no plans to see a boyfriend” and he blushed again.

One of the medical assistants rushed out to meet us and guided him into the room exclaiming “Billy, what the hell? How have you done that?”

He shrugged, clearly feeling embarrassed about how he had injured himself. So when they looked over at me for clarification, I shrugged too.

Billy wasn’t the only player needing the use of the treatment room. As he sat down on one of the chairs, I noticed that Ben was in there too.

The medic went about dabbing Billy’s nose and he cried out in pain.

“Sorry about your cardigan.” he said, looking down at the red material on his lap. He didn’t need it now that he was getting patched up.

“Honestly don’t worry about it Billy.” I grinned.

The medic then mumbled something about needing something and left the room.

That gave Billy a bit more confidence to talk about what had happened.

“And thank you for the advice about your friend.” Billy seemed a bit happier as he said that, and I could see Ben out of the corner of my eye looking over at us as Billy spoke.

“Please tell me you’re going to ask her out!” Ben laughed.

I turned to look at him and smiled. “You know?”

Ben nodded and looked at Billy with a horrified expression “Oh god, you asked her out and she punched you.”

I shook my head. “Not exactly.” I said.

“The boyfriend was here for some reason, and he punched you?’ Ben went on, standing up and coming over to Billy. He walked with a slight limp.

He stood in between us.

“Why are you in here if you don’t mind me asking?” I looked down at his leg while asking the question.

“It’s my hamstring, nothing too serious.” He smiled.

“Don’t laugh at me when I tell you how I did this.” Billy warned, pointing at his nose. “I walked into a sliding glass door that I thought was open, all because she gave me a pair of boots and called me love.” he groaned, covering his face in embarrassment.

Ben laughed and clapped Billy on the back with his hand. “Oh mate, no wonder you’re embarrassed.” he then addressed me, asking “Just how cringy was it?”

I shook my head before answering him, “I honestly don’t think it was that bad. Bri is pretty oblivious sometimes and I don’t actually think she realised the real reason for you hurting yourself. So if you were to pluck up the courage to speak to her, I wouldn’t even bring it up.”

_________________________________________________________

The next day, I was looking out at the training pitches while I waited for the coffee machine to finish making my drink when there was a gentle tap on my door.

I crossed the room and opened it, expecting it to Bri or maybe even the club photographer giving me some new pictures of the squad to use, but it was Ben.

“Hi, are you free?” he asked, giving me one of his sweet smiles.

“Yeah come in.” I said, stepping back into my office and letting him pass me so that I could hold the door open.

“That coffee smells nice”. He remarked.

“Do you want one? Or did I put you off the other day?” I smiled.

“Ah no thanks, and no you didn’t put me off. I’ve never really liked the stuff. I like the smell of coffee, it just doesn’t taste as good as it smells.” as he spoke I realised that he was holding something in a plastic bag.

He realised that I was looking at it. “It’s your cardigan. I washed it for you at home. Think I got all the blood out but it’s red so I can’t really tell.”

I was for once, speechless. It was a small gesture but it was really kind all the same. I thought about making a witty remark about it actually being his mother or an employed cleaner that washed it for him but I just couldn’t bring myself to.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that. It’s only an old primark cardigan.” I said, taking the bag from him.

I suddenly felt a bit flustered in his company. He had that charming smile and didn’t really look like a cocky footballer to me. He didn’t act like one much either, he was just kind of like the guy next door, or the guy you would see on Tinder with a picture of him with his mates at the only photo on the profile so you couldn’t tell which one you were swiping for.

In all honesty, he kind of reminded me of my ex boyfriend Rory. He had the same sort of look, and they had similar accents. Maybe it was nostalgia that made me find being around Ben comforting.

‘I think your coffee is done.” he said, gesturing to the machine.

I nodded and walked over to the machine, taking the cup and adding some creamer and sugar. As I stirred the cup, he leant against my desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Something is bothering me if I’m honest.” he said.

“What is it?” I asked curiously.

“Mason said that you told him that you hate all footballers because we’re privileged and get too much clout for what we do.” He looked slightly disappointed in me. “Thing is, I don’t entirely disagree with you. Maybe we do get paid too much for what we do, and maybe doctors and nurses deserve way more praise than we do. I also don’t think that you hate all footballers. You were really kind to Blly yesterday and he won’t forget that in a hurry. You really helped him.” he continued.

“I don’t hate Billy, and I don’t think I hate you either.” I said quietly, taking a sip of my coffee.

“That is interesting.” he grinned, as he took one of my hands and guided me over to him, to stand in between his legs where he now sat on the edge of my desk.

Instinctively I put my coffee cup down and he put his arms around my waist.

“It’s interesting?-” he cut me off before I could say anything else, by pressing his lips against mine. The kiss is soft and gentle and lasts only a few seconds. He testing me and my brain is going in so many different directions. Am I actually going back on all of my principles and kissing a fucking footballer right now? And am I only doing it because he reminds me of my ex?

He moves to pull away, breaking the contact between our lips and I let out the tiniest whimper before putting my hand on the back of his head and pulling him back in for more. This time his tongue slips past my parted lips. My hand at the back of his head grips a generous handful of his hair and one of his hands makes its way to my bum.

My body feels like it is on fire. It has been a bloody long time since anyone kissed or touched me, and I hadn’t quite realised just how starved of affection I had been until I got a taste of it, a taste of him.

The telephone on my desk started to ring,and although I tried to ignore it, I just couldn’t. My job meant a lot to me and if it were Marina or someone of equal importance I would be chastised for missing the call.

We broke the kiss at the same time and I apologised to him. He grinned and fired back that I didn’t need to apologise and that he needed to get back to training, and by the time I picked up the phone, he was gone.

[botheredbuck]

hi absolutely love your fics. You are such a talented writer! 💘 I saw a tweet on twitter saying ‘ben and callum give off major ‘we’ve just had an argument and i’m temporarily annoyed with you but i’m still going to go to sleep in your arms tonight’ energy’ and i wanted to ask you if you could write a fic based on this? 😻

Callum’s sat alone on the sofa in the evening, the light low just how he likes it and the television playing some old film that reminds him of the kind of stuff he’d watch when he slept over with Lee, the kind of stuff that was rated beyond their age. It seemed like the most daring thing at the time, watching a movie that you shouldn’t be. Things have changed since then and he’s grown up, and the prospect of doing that is almost mundane now, and sometimes he can’t help but miss that childhood innocence of watching things in the dark and under blankets, in case the adults find out. There’s so much more to life now- it’s so much more complicated. 

It’s films like this that remind him of times like that- when things felt easier.

They’d had a fight earlier in the evening- something and nothing, just the result of long shifts and not enough money since business is slow and a flat in London with two kids isn’t exactly cheap. It’s a challenge but Callum wouldn’t ask for anything else, not since he gets to wake up to Ben’s face every morning. Really, it’s everything he could’ve ever hoped for and more, and he’s never felt so lucky. 

He messes with the ring on his finger almost absent-mindedly, cold silver against warm skin and it’s a grounding touch, a reassurance that’s always with him of the promises that he and Ben have made to each other, and the fact that, no matter how much they might fight, that’s not something that’ll be easily forgotten. Sure, the fighting does scare him a little - it always has, no matter how irrational it is - but he’s got this reminder now, that Ben’s promised to love him forever and after, and that he’s done the same for Ben. 

There’s evidence of it all across the house, too. It’s one of those things that Callum had insisted on when they’d moved in, something that he’d never really had as a kid that had only served to make the house he’d grown up in feel more like a hotel than a home. There’s pictures all across the walls now, of family, in all the forms that they have it in. There’s one hanging just above the telly of him and Ben when they’d first gotten Oliver, with Lexi standing by the side proudly looking at her younger brother. 

(She’s taken to the whole older sister thing just as well as anyone would have expected her to- she’s constantly spending time with him, always wanting to help out him or Ben with dressing him or feeding him. Of course, she’s a lot less enthusiastic when it comes to the nappies, but that’s to be expected.)

Another presides over the bookcase, taken on their wedding day. It’s of the two of them, holding hands and looking at each other, the rest of the world gone. He remembers that moment as if it were yesterday- he’s not sure he could ever forget it. 

There’s evidence of their little family all across the flat, and Callum loves it. 

Just as his focus comes back to the movie in front of him - not that he’s paying too much attention to the plot - the living room door swings open. It’s late, so it catches him somewhat off guard. Oliver’s been down for a couple hours now, Lexi’s already in bed and Ben had gone up a little while ago, rushing upstairs to soothe Oliver after they’d fought and not coming down since. He half expects it to be Lexi, having had a nightmare but he’s greeted by Ben stood there. He’s dressed in blue plaid pyjama bottoms and Callum’s grey hoodie over his bare chest, one of their blankets from upstairs wrapped around his shoulders. He still looks just as put out as he was earlier and Callum sighs, readying for a continuation. 

But Ben just flops onto the sofa beside him, head coming to rest on his lap. 

Callum puts the cup of tea that he’d been holding down on the coffee table and a hand comes to curl through Ben’s hair- another almost instinctual movement. He’s quiet for a minute, until Ben’s voice breaks the quiet, gruff and tired. 

“‘M sorry,” he says, eyes not moving from the television but it’s more a sign of insecurity than stubbornness. “I was being stupid.” 

“We both were,” Callum says, a hand coming to tap under Ben’s chin to make sure he can hear him, or see what he’s saying. Ben turns to look at him a minute later, eyebrows twitching into a frown. “We both were. It’s okay, I’m sorry too- I love you.” 

Ben smiles a little, this hopeful look coming back to his eyes. “I love you too.”

Callum returns his smile, and the easy exchange settles something in his chest that he didn’t even realise was there. “You still angry with me?” 

Ben shrugs his shoulders, but there’s a playfulness on his face that says maybe a little, but not really. “Couldn’t sleep without you, could I?” 

“You never could,” Callum replies, and Ben turns back to the television, leaning into where Callum’s hand still sweeps through his hair. Contentedness sweeps through him, and he gets this sudden feeling of everything’s going to be okay. 

(this was really sweet to write actually bc i went with it and then suddenly i was writing ballum with kids and i have no regrets- thank you so so much lovely, it’s so so wonderful to know that you like my fics!! i honestly so totally agree with that tweet tho, that’s definitely the vibe that they give off, so i really hope you enjoyed this <3)

[jenonctcity]

My Addiction - Part 2

Differences – Lee Donghyuck

Part of the Bad Boy Series.

Badboy!Au

Warnings: Explicit Content, Fighting, Mentions of Blood, Drugs.

Word Count: 6.1k

Haechan had started his day off by waking up at the early time off 11am, which wasn’t early at all, but to Haechan that was an early start. After he’d laid in bed and scrolled through his Twitter feed aimlessly for a solid half an hour, he decided it was time to do something productive. He left his room, went for a pee, brushed his teeth, then decided he felt gross so had a quick shower, jerked off in the shower, got interrupted by Jaemin complaining he was taking too long, argued with Jaemin through the bathroom door, got dressed, had some toast, and finally sat down on the sofa with his phone in his hand ready to scroll through his Facebook feed.

“So,” Jeno’s voice made him look up from his phone, looking over at the blond-haired boy who had a dark bruise on his jaw from where your fist had connected with it. He held back the small smile that tried to fight its way onto his face and he wondered if your knuckles were sore at all from the brief encounter. “Why did you sweep (Y/N) away so quickly last night?” Haechan raised an eyebrow at his friends’ word, lowering his phone as Jeno now had his full attention.

“How do you know her name?” He asked, not having any inkling of an idea as to how Jeno knows your name.

“She went to our school.” Jeno shrugged. Haechan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, how comes Jeno could remember you from school but he couldn’t? Him and Jeno spent nearly all of their time together in school, so when did he notice you?

“Yeah, I know that, I just didn’t think you’d remember her…”

“Anyway, are you two dating?”

“No!” Haechan quickly denied Jeno’s allegation, not wanting him to think that he was dating someone. Haechan didn’t like to date women. Instead he preferred to fuck them and maybe do it again sometime. He didn’t see the point in being tied down to someone when all he wanted to do was fuck other women. He didn’t want to end up like his father and cheat on his significant other, he refused to stoop that low. So if he didn’t have a girlfriend, then there was no one to cheat on. He has had girlfriends in the past, but they didn’t last long, mainly because they were too clingy and wanted his attention all the time.

“So you just took her home? But you were gone for ages.” Jeno seemed persistent with wanting to know what the two of them had been up to. Haechan didn’t particularly want Jeno to know he fucked your brains out in the back of his car, just in case Jeno knew something about you from school that he didn’t know. Something like you used to lick peoples lockers or some shit that is embarrassing.

“Erm we got hot chocolate and then I took her home. I had to calm her down, you had really pissed her off.” His words were kind of true, so he didn’t feel too bad about lying to Jeno. After he’d dropped you off at your home, he’d received a text from you, a few more messages later you’d both established a friends with benefits kind of relationship. “So anyway, what did you do to piss her off? She wouldn’t tell me.” He neglected to tell Jeno that the only reason he didn’t know why you’d punched Jeno was because he was too busy flirting with you and trying to get in your pants to have asked.

“I stood her friend up.” He shrugged with a sigh, before both of them turned their attention to the tiny toddler who came running into the room, with Renjun following close behind her.

“Who is going to be the best Uncle and watch Jiyeon for me for an hour?” Renjun asked with a smile on his face. The small baby that was starting to look more and more like her father every time Haechan saw her came running up to him with a smile plastered on her face. She’d only been waking for about a week, and she’d gotten a good grasp of it, running around everywhere and making it hard for everyone to keep tabs on her.

“I think she’s picked Uncle Haechanie.” Jeno sniggered, standing up quickly. “Besides I’m going to the gym, she can’t come with me.” Haechan groaned, but reached down and picked Jiyeon up anyway, setting her on the sofa beside him.

“1-hour Renjun and then I’m putting her up for adoption.” He spoke with a deadpan expression, but everyone knew he was only teasing, and he could end up watching her for multiple hours without caring.

“Deal. Just don’t give her to Jaemin.” Renjun laughed, quickly leaving with Jeno following him. Haechan looked down at the toddler sat beside him, letting out a long sigh before changing the television channel onto a kid’s cartoon.

---

It took you a few days to get over the overwhelming come down that had you teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown. But you didn’t know what you expected, you always had the same experience after taking drugs, but that never seemed to stop you from taking the drugs. You burrowed yourself away in your house and called in sick to your dreary job at the local café which you hated more than anything. But after leaving school without achieving anything to prove your intelligence, you were stuck with a crappy job that barely paid your rent. But once you were over your headache, nausea, and paranoia, you decided it was time to get some dick…and some more drugs. You collected the money you’d saved up and shoved it in your pocket, putting on a simple pair of grey sweatpants with a black, long sleeved top that clung to your body. It was simply, but sexy. And you hoped Haechan thought the same thing. You didn’t bother texting him, deciding to surprise him with some sex. Men loved to be surprised by sex. Well that’s what you assumed.

After walking for twenty minutes you found yourself stood outside of the familiar doorway, running a hand through your hair and giving it a ruffle to try and bring on the sexy aura as you waited for someone to answer the door. You put on a subtle pout and put your hands on your hips as you waited. But as the door opened, you visibly deflated, a short, irritated sigh leaving your lips as your eyes laid on Jeno. He looked you up and down, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe. He was wearing a white, sleeveless shirt that showed off his muscular biceps, completely clean of any tattoos. You knew he could probably throw you through the wall on the other side of the hallway, but he didn’t seem to want to kill you unlike he had after you’d punched him. You then noticed the white wraps he had around both of his hands and the sweat that dripped down the side of his face, his blond hair sticking to his forehead.

“Is Haechan here?” You didn’t bother greeting him, still pissed about what he did to your friend Leah.

“No.” He shook his head, running one of his hands over his head to push back his hair. “Do you want to come in? I want to ask you something…” Your first reaction to Jeno’s invite was to crease your eyebrows in confusion, your next reaction was to shrug and let yourself into the apartment, completely waking past him and navigating your way through the hallway to the living room. Jeno raised his eyebrows in surprise that you didn’t put up a fight and just let yourself in. He shut the door and followed you, seeing you sat on the sofa and making yourself comfortable before he sat beside you, keeping a space big enough for another person between you.

“So, what do you want to ask me?” You sat crossed legged on the sofa, keeping your eyes on Jeno in case he tried to pull anything as it seemed like no one else was in the apartment apart from the two of you. He slowly started to unwrap his hands, but kept his eyes on you, looking you in the eyes as he took a deep breath. You noticed the very faint bruise on his jaw from where you’d punched him and tried to hold back a smirk.

“Before I ask you anything, I’d like to apologise to you for how I acted last week, I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you for you sticking up for your friend when it was me who did the shitty thing and stood her up. So yeah, sorry about that. By the way, I would never had hurt you. I would never physically hurt a woman.”  This had your face contorting into a smirk as you decided to lay the pressure on the boy sat beside you.

“So if you were fucking me from behind and I asked you to spank me, you wouldn’t do it?” Jeno almost choked on his own spit as your words hit his ears. His thick eyebrows raised, and his head darted forward slightly, a confused noise leaving his throat as he processed your words.

“I-I…well yeah…erm…anyway,” He stuttered over his words, blinking a few times as he tried to change to steer the conversation back to where it had started off. “I’m sorry…” You could see the sincerity in his eyes, and it was hard to imagine that this is the boy who had shown nothing but aggression towards you upon your first encounter with him. You remember him from school, but you hadn’t ever spoken to him, so you had to count last week as your first interaction with him. The boy that sat in front of you had soft eyes and a low, but soft tone to match his eyes.

“You’re forgiven. But you’re banned from going on any dates with my friends. Understood?”  Your voice showed a lot of dominance which had a smile tugging at his lips as he nodded his head in confirmation.

“Yes boss…So are you and Haechan dating?” He put the wraps he had on his hand on the coffee table in front of you both and flexed his hands out, the veins prominent and causing your eyes to dart towards them. Your eyes trailed up his arms, noticing that the veins were showing on his biceps and forearms as well. He had a really good physique, and it was obvious to you that he worked out. You let out a soft laugh and shake your head.

“No, we’re just friends.”

“Oh, cool.” He turned his body more towards you once he was 100% sure that you and Haechan weren’t dating, because although Haechan had already told him that the two of you weren’t dating, he was pretty sure that his younger friend was lying to him. “I didn’t think that the two of you spoke at school.” This had your ears pricking up. Whenever anyone mentioned that they remembered you from school you always felt your heart rate speed up in anxiousness.

“We didn’t…did he tell you we did?” Your voice was now weaker, your courage dwindling as you tried to play it cool not wanting him to see your internalised panic.

“No I just assumed that you did because we all went to the same school.” You quickly shook your head and cleared your throat.

“You remember me from school?” You weren’t sure you wanted to hear his answer, but you’d already let the words slip from your mouth, so it was too late.

“Yeah, I spent a lot of time people watching. You were quiet, nose always in a book with your uniform perfect, you sat alone at lunch and I remember that you punched a girl in the nose before you disappeared. And the next time I see you you’re punching me in the face too.” He let out a laugh, clearly finding the circumstances ironic. “No one knew why you disappeared, to be honest not many people talked about it.” You bit your bottom lip and glanced down, feeling the rush of reminiscence as it came to you. It didn’t feel good though, in fact it left a horrible taste in your mouth. You felt slightly touched that Jeno had remembered you though, not many people you encountered from high school since leaving actually remembered that you went to school with them.

“I got kicked out. That’s why I disappeared.” Your voice was softer and Jeno could sense that he touched a nerve. He smiled slightly and let out a soft sigh.

“You haven’t got to explain yourself to me if you don’t want to.” He reached out, hesitantly placing his hand on your own as it sat on your knee. You looked up in surprise, your eyes flicking from his hand to his eyes. There was something about the blond guy that made you feel safe and secure, and it wasn’t just his physical appearance. You hardly knew him, but as you looked at him it was hard to believe that this was the man who had the heart to stand up your friend. You could see that he was genuinely curious as to why you got kicked out of school and ended up where you are now. A thought popped into your head, and before you could filter it, it was already leaving your lips.

“I’ll tell you my story if you tell me why you stood Leah up.” You felt his hand squeeze your own, before he lifted your palm into his and shook it like you were making a deal.

“Deal.” He dropped your hand and instead placed his hand back in his own lap, his other arm laying across the back of the sofa behind you, almost like he had his arm around you.

“The girl I punched was trying to spread a rumour around that I had chlamydia, I confronted her, and she started to laugh in my face. I’d had enough of people thinking I was just a weak, quiet girl, so I punched her. Of course the teachers came running and next thing I know, I’m being kicked out for aggression. I got a job at a small restaurant and met this guy…” You paused as the thought of your first boyfriend came into your mind. He was the only guy you’d ever dated, and once the relationship was over, you’d decided not to commit to another man that could break you in the way he did. You took a deep breath and looked into Jeno’s eyes. “He was sweet at first, but then after we started sleeping together, he changed. I then found out he was addicted to drugs, he’d do all sorts, but it was mostly heroin. I made the mistake of trusting him, and the sex turned…awful. I started to smoke weed just before we’d have sex so I wouldn’t really be focused on it.” You felt your throat tighten, but you willed your emotions away, not wanting Jeno to see your weakness. “In the end it wasn’t enough, and I’d steal some of his cocaine just to put up with the sex.”

“Why did you keep having sex with him then?” Jeno piped up before you could continue on with your story.

“He would get violent if I didn’t…in the end he got locked up for drug dealing just after I broke things off with him.” It felt strange telling somebody your story, but it also felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

“Asshole.” He mumbled, his fists clenching as he looked away from you, not wanting to see the pain that laid behind your glistening eyes. But it then occurred to him that you were probably looking for Haechan tonight because you wanted what he was known for selling.

“Yep…” You awkwardly smiled, your palms sweaty as you rubbed them against your sweatpants to try and dry them. Jeno didn’t try to dig anymore, instead deciding to steer your mind away from your own past by holding up his end of the deal.

“I stood Leah up because I had a fight that I needed to go to, also because I didn’t really feel like going on a date that evening. I know it’s a shitty excuse, but I didn’t think about how it would hurt her feelings.” You let out a laugh and bit your bottom lip. Jeno tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched you. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because Leah’s feelings weren’t hurt. She was just mad that she wasn’t going to get any dick that night, so she pretended she was upset when she called me to rant.” You shrugged and watched as his smile grew, his eyes slowly becoming less visible as you noticed his eyes turned into crescent moons when he found something amusing. “She’s a bit of…hmm…how do I word this? ...she likes to sleep around basically, and she’s over it now. To be honest you probably dodged a bullet, she’s a bit of a nightmare with men.”

“So why did you punch me?!” He laughed along with you.

“Because I thought she was genuinely upset at first! Then I told her what I did, and she told me that she wasn’t that bothered. I was being a good friend!” You tried to justify your actions, but Jeno didn’t look like he cared that much that you’d hit him. In fact he seemed to find the whole thing rather amusing.

“You have one hell of a punch on you for a gi-” He was cut off by your fist colliding with his arm. “Ow!” It didn’t hurt him, but he pretend it did and rubbed at the spot you’d hit.

“For a girl?! You deserved that one.” You shook your head, amusement still evident on your face. You weren’t offended by the sexist remark he was about to make because you could tell it was all in jest.

“Okay fair enough, I was only joking by the way, I know how many girls who could probably put me on my ass.”

“You said you fight? What do you mean by that?”

“I do underground fighting. It’s not legal, but its good money. And I’m good at it.” He smirked, clearly proud of himself for his work. You opened your mouth to reply but before you could the sound of men’s voices and the front door closing echoed throughout the apartment. You and Jeno both turned your attention to the doorway as Haechan, Jaemin, and Renjun came through the door. You remembered Jaemin from when he answered the door and nearly felt your wrath the week prior. And you remembered Renjun from school. The more you looked at Jaemin though, the more his face looked familiar to you from when you went to school together.

“You’re back early.” Jeno raised an eyebrow as they all made themselves comfortable on the sofas. Haechan’s eyes attached onto you and stayed focused on you when he realised who the girl was sat beside Jeno. He frowned, jealous that you’d been alone with Jeno, his possessiveness shining through despite him not really having any attachment to you. His eyes didn’t fail to notice how Jeno’s arm was on the back of the sofa behind you either, making his frown deepen. He flopped down between you and Jeno without any shame, prompting Jeno to remove his arm from the back of the sofa.

“We got kicked out of the club.” Jaemin spoke, kicking off his shoes and relaxing back on the sofa cushions, the television remote in his grip.

“Why?” Jeno asked with confusion evident on his face.

“They thought we were snorting coke in the toilets.” Jaemin shrugged and turned on the television, not taking his eyes off of it as he spoke to Jeno.

“Were you snorting coke?” You asked with an amused tone in your voice. Jaemin suddenly turned his attention towards you like it was the first time he’d actually noticed your presence. He sniffed and cleared his throat, turning his attention back to the television.

“…Yeah…” He mumbled causing you to let out a short laugh. Haechan cleared his throat, turning to look at you. He gave you a look that said he was confused, and you assumed he was confused about your presence. You stood up and smiled awkwardly.

“I’m going to get going, see ya.”

“Wait I’ll drive you home.” Jeno stood up too. You didn’t notice but Haechan gave Jeno a look that could kill.

“It’s fine you don’t have to!” You felt bad that he wanted to drive you home, not wanting him to go out of his way for you.

“Actually,” Haechan stood up, getting between the both of you subtly. “I have some things I want to speak to (Y/N) about, so I’ll take her.” He put as much dominance in his words as he could, and Jeno just shrugged. You didn’t bother arguing, not really caring which one of the boys took you home. But you could kind of sense the testosterone levels rising in the air, as if the two of them were about to have a pissing match. Just as Haechan started to lead you out of the room, Jeno called out to you.

“(Y/N) wait,” He rushed over to you, pulling phone out from his pocket. “Give me your number and I’ll text you. Just in case you wanted someone to talk to or if you ever get into a sticky situation.” You glanced up at Haechan, see that he averted his hard gaze so that he wasn’t watching either of you. But you also noticed that his jaw was clenched.

“Sure!” You smirked, taking his phone and saved your number into it, passing it back to him. You thought it was funny that Haechan was getting this possessive and jealous over his friend when he was the one who was fucking you, not Jeno. “Bye Jeno.” You both said your goodbyes and Haechan pulled the front door shut with a loud bang.

“Why were you there with Jeno?” He didn’t waste time in asking you the burning question that was on his mind, his hand on your wrist as he guided you down the many stairs to the entrance of the apartment building.

“Well,” You started, but paused as you got into his car, pulling on your seatbelt before continuing. “I was there for you; thought I’d surprise you with some pussy.” You shrugged, looking over at him to see his reaction. He bit his bottom lip, starting the car up before looking at you. He had lust burning like a fire behind his dark eyes, it only being visible from the streetlight that he was parked underneath. He licked his bottom lip, starting to drive as erotic thoughts ran through his head.

“You’re a dirty girl, that doesn’t answer my question though. Why were you with Jeno?”

“Are you jealous?” You shot right back at him, making his jaw clench again and his knuckles to turn white as his grip on the steering wheel got harder.

“No. Answer the god damn question (Y/N).”

“Fine! He just apologised for standing my friend up and we got talking. That’s it. He’s really nice actually.” You could tell that your words had relieved some of the tension in Haechan’s shoulders, his body visibly relaxing as he realised that nothing happened between his friend and his fuck buddy.

“Yeah he is…” He sighed, not really wanting to feel hostile towards the man that was more like his brother than his friend. “Did he tell you he remembers you from school?”

“He did…we talked about that.” You didn’t really want to go through the whole story again with Haechan, but you wanted to get it out of the way with, so you cleared your throat nervously and gave him a brief run down about your past like you had with Jeno. He listened to you, stopping outside your apartment complex and turning to face you.

“Is that why you wanted drugs when he fucked?” He looked down at his lap, not really knowing how he should be feeling about everything you’d just opened up to him about. He felt a bit sick now that he knew why you wanted drugs, but he didn’t feel like he could be the person to tell you to stop doing them, not knowing you well enough to feel like he could do that. He felt a little bit numb but hid it well.

“Yes. I just relate sex with being high. I only told you because I didn’t want Jeno to tell you and then you would be mad because I didn’t tell you.” You shrugged, taking off your seatbelt. “Anyway, thanks for the ride.” You opened the door but paused when Haechan piped up.

“I understand, but you don’t have to do that when we have sex. I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to do. I just want you to know that.” He gave you a soft smile and it was the first time you’d seen him be so sincere and sweet. It made your heart flutter in a way that it hadn’t in a long time. But you ignored it, knowing it was dangerous to let your heart do that in response to something a man had said, a man who you only had a sexual relationship with.  “Besides, I can make you feel good enough that you don’t need that shit.” You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Thanks…hey do you want to come in?” You let out a gentle laugh and winked at him. “Put your money where your mouth is?” He let out a laugh, a smug smile on his face as he thought about your offer. He opened his door and got out of the car, the two of you walking up to your apartment together, his hand resting on your ass.

---

Weeks flew by, and you found yourself splitting your time between work, getting your back blown out by Haechan, and spending time with Jeno. Haechan didn’t know that you were spending time with Jeno, and Jeno didn’t know that you had been riding Haechan’s dick four times a week. It didn’t matter to you though, because you didn’t think either of them needed to know. Jeno was just a friend, and Haechan was just a friend you fucked. Who you chose to spend your time with was neither of their concerns. What you had noticed was your growing affections for the drug dealer that you shared a bed with. There was something about how he was kiss you just before ravaging your body that caused your stomach to fill with butterflies. It scared you. But you knew that you’d broken the one rule you’d set aside for yourself. The rule of not catching feelings for Haechan. But it happened so quick that you couldn’t stop it. He was a gentle lover…sometimes. And you felt like you had a constant craving for the feel of his lips on your own. No wonder they say that love is like a drug, it’s addictive, and you felt like you could stop taking all the other drugs you did in favour of having Haechan. You wanted to do more than just have sex with him, like hold his hand, go on dates, get food together. But you couldn’t tell him this, it would more than likely scare him away, and then you wouldn’t have him at all, which was worse than supressing your feelings for him. Sometimes you thought that maybe it would be better if you had caught feelings for Jeno. He was a caring man, and you really enjoyed his company. Which is why you found yourself going on a date with him. The date went well, but you still couldn’t force yourself to feel romantic feelings for Jeno. You didn’t have the heart to tell him this, so you just ignored his messages for the past 24 hours and hoped he didn’t see you as you snuck into Haechan’s room the night after.

Haechan had your legs over his shoulder, jackhammering his hips into yours as you whined from the intense feeling of your orgasm slowly building, like a fire having fuel splashed over it. The bed squeaked underneath your bodies in time to Haechan’s hard cock hitting all the right places inside of you. Beads of sweat trailed down the side of his face, the vein in his neck prominent as he put all his force into the motion of his hips.

“Fuuuuck.” You whimpered; your arms pinned above your head on the pillow by one of his hands. You wanted to touch him, but he was restricting you from doing so, so instead you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to cope with the ministrations he was doing to your body.

“Jeno can’t fuck you like I can.” He grunted into your ear unexpectedly, causing your stomach to drop.

“Huh?” You were confused as to why he suddenly brought up Jeno while he was balls deep inside of you.

“The way he looks at you, you don’t see it, but I do. He wants to do to you what I’m doing to you so badly baby girl.” His voice was low, and you moaned involuntarily as the ball inside of you wound itself tighter, your orgasm knocking at the door. You didn’t want to tell him that you did in fact see the way that Jeno looks at you. He looks at you with affection and infatuation in his eyes. Of course you’d seen it, but Haechan hadn’t been able to see past his own jealousy to see that Jeno wanted more than just to fuck you. It surprised you that Jeno hadn’t even told Haechan about the date he’d taken you on, but you didn’t really want to message Jeno to ask him why.

“I’m yours.” The sultry way that those wicked words left your lips had Haechan letting out a high-pitched whine, his hips stilling as his cock released hot ropes of cum inside of your warm walls. He continued to ram his hips inside of you after he got over the initial feeling of his orgasm, your own high rocking through you like a raging bull as your toes curled and thighs started to quiver on his shoulders.

“Yeah, you are mine.” He growled, slowly pulling your legs from his shoulders and grabbing the towel he’d left on the floor from his shower the night prior. He cleaned the both of you up before he pulled a joint out of his bedside table. He lit it and took a long drag before he laid in bed beside you, pulling you to his bare chest and holding the joint to your lips. You took a puff and released the smoke into the air. This is the closest thing to affection you’d ever had from Haechan, and it was merely some cuddling after sex. “Why didn’t you tell me that you went on a date with Jeno?” His question shocked you, because you assumed he had absolutely no idea about it. You gulped, your stomach flipping as your words got caught in your throat. “He really likes you, how the hell could I crush my best friend by telling him that I’ve been having sex with you for the past month when he finally finds a girl that he likes?” His voice had a tone to it that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but it left you with a guilty feeling in your stomach.

“He told you this…?”

“Yes, after he got back from your date last night. I had no idea you’d even been spending time with him…” He took another drag of the weed and let his head fall back against the pillow.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you; I didn’t think it would matter.” You awkwardly played with his duvet, guilt sitting heavy on your heart.

“I don’t care. Date whoever you want,” Those words turned your guilt into hurt. You wanted him to care. It made you wish even harder that you felt things for Jeno and that you were in Jeno’s arms, purely because you knew he cared for you. “I just feel bad for Jeno…” You didn’t respond to him, instead letting the haze of weed take over your body as you took another drag from the joint.

“Haechan have you heard from (Y/N) at all?” The voice sounded just before the door opened. “I haven’t hea-” Jeno paused in the doorway, his hand still on the doorknob as his eyes landed on you and Haechan, naked…in bed…together. “What the fuck?!” His face hardened, his eyebrows scrunching up and his jaw clenching. You gasped, quickly jumping out of bed with the duvet on your body, completely exposing Haechan as he jumped up from the bed on the other side. Your eyes widened as you stared at Jeno, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to form words.

“It’s not what it looks like.” Haechan spoke, pulling on his boxers and a t-shirt quickly.

“Then what the fuck is it huh? Kinda funny how I tell you that I like her, then suddenly she isn’t replying to my texts, and now I find you in bed together!” Jeno’s voice raised, anger prominent on his features as he approached Haechan.

“Back off Jeno.” Haechan wasn’t afraid to stand up to Jeno and it shows, despite how much aggression and intimidation Jeno was showing in that moment. You hadn’t seen this side of Jeno since the night you’d punched him, and you forgot how scary he could look. You stayed silent, knowing you couldn’t do anything to cease the fight about to happen.

“Fuck off. You’re supposed to be my fucking friend and you pull this shit.” Jeno shoved Haechan hard, to which Haechan responded by clenching his fists and getting in Jeno’s face.

“Stop!” You cried out, watching with worried eyes, but neither of the men paid any attention to you.

“I’ve been fucking her for the past month, and you didn’t even know.” Haechan whispered, a smirk playing on his lips as he taunted Jeno, not meaning to be horrible to his brother but not wanting to be showed up like that in front of you. Jeno raised his fist and within the blink of an eye the two of them were throwing fists at each other like teenager boys fighting over their crush. Instead of two men fighting over a troubled woman.

“Stop!” You screamed, tears filling your eyes as you watched Jeno shove Haechan up against the wall, clearly winning the fight with his experience. You didn’t even notice when Renjun and Jaemin ran into the room and separated two of them, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cried for the first time in over a year. Jaemin held Jeno back, and Renjun held Haechan back, as both of them struggled to get to each other. Haechan’s nose was clearly broken, blood streaming down over his lips and Jeno having hardly any damage to his face.

“You need to fucking choose (Y/N). Me or him?” Jeno shouted at you, causing you to flinch. All four men went still as their eyes trained on you, still stood in the corner of the room with the duvet bundled up to your chest. You shook your head, unable to process your thoughts as you looked between the two men. One of them not showing that he had any feelings towards you, and that you were just a body to keep his bed warm when he wanted it. The other a soft-hearted man who looked at you like he could give you the world. You were trying to choose between heartache or love. A love that could potentially end up in heartache as you didn’t feel the way he felt towards you. “Pick one!” He was getting impatient, his voice cracking as it started to dawn on him what had happened. Haechan wiped at his face, smearing the blood as he watched you.

You continuously looked between the two of them, gripping at the fabric of the duvet tighter and gulping as you spoke. Before turning to the man you decided to choose.

“I choose you…”

---

Hey! Thanks for reading! What do you think is going to happen next? Let me know your thoughts, I love feedback so please tell me what you think.

[chicksung]

stray kids reaction to their (idol) s/o being made fun of by fans? if that's not against your guidelines of course!!

Stray Kids reaction to their idol s/o being made fun of by fans

A/N: Hi beauty! Of course not! This is my first time doing a reaction so please bare with me here! Thank you for the request @dreamsaboutnct

Warning/s: cyber bullying, crying, disappointed chan

Bang Chan: When he came home to find your shaking form in waves of tears, he knew something was up. He knew that you were in preparation for a comeback and he thought maybe it was the stress of it, but when you broke down futher in his arms and said that it was the fans that had you in this state, he was speechless.

To say he was disappointed was an understatement. He was baffled when he saw the tweets and comments regarding your appearance, your talent and abilities and even your relationship with Chan.

He decided to host another episode of Chan’s Room that night. As he greeted the fans, he watched the comments carefully, seeing if there was anything negative said about you.

“Now, I actually wanted to talk to you guys. I love being with Y/N. I truly do. But there are some things that need to be addressed. For as long as Y/N and I are together, I expect you guys to respect her and treat her like you would treat me. It breaks my heart to see how many negative comments my s/o has been getting and I am giving you one warning and one warning only. It has got to stop.”

He had never been so strict when talking to stays but he needed to knock some sense into this ridiculousness, but it seemed to work.

The next morning, #RespectYN was trending #1 on twitter and the negativity was outweighed by the positive. Chan smiled as you read out all the cute things fans had written.

“And if anything like this happens again, let me know. I’ll fix it.”

Lee Minho: He hates seeing you cry. In fact, he hated seeing you anything but happy. You couldn’t explain yourself through the tears so instead you showed him your twitter feed, when he read it, he was frozen. How could his own fans do this to you. Not his stay. Everyone seemed to be supportive of your relationship. This was until he saw one tweet and he felt his blood boil.

“I’m not a stay but I am a (y/n’s fandom name) and honestly? Y/N doesn’t deserve Lee Know”

“Come with me.” Minho whispered, grasping your hand tightly and leading you elsewhere.

Sometimes, you really loved being in the same company as Minho. He told his manager and your manager about the whole situation and they said they would bring it up with the CEO.

Not a week later, Twitter once again say something that they knew was somewhat bad.

‘안녕하세요, JYP입니다.’

The article explained that if any further malicious comments were made about either idols, there would be serious consequences in place for the perpetrators found guilty.

Minho took out on a date that day, to clear out all the negative thoughts and feelings in your mind and heart with all the love he could possibly give to you. He really loves you.

Seo Changbin: Changbin immediately pulled you into his arms when he saw the tears on your cheeks. He didn’t need to know if it was dance practice, a conflict between you and your members, or even if it was that time of the month again. All he knew was that you were upset and he needed to fix it. He pet your hair and let you cry out your feelings until your loud sobs slowly turned into soft sniffles.

“What’s wrong, love? What’s got my baby all upset?” He asked you, pulling you away from his chest and wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“It’s the fans. They’ve been telling me that I don’t deserve you and it’s getting to a point that I’m too scared to post on Twitter and Instagram or turn on vlive. I’m so scared, Binnie.”

Changbin needed to find a way to fix this. And what better way than to write a song. He knew it would take a while and he told you to just try and hang in there.

A few weeks later, he dropped his song on SKZ-Player and the response to it was overwhelmingly good. He decided to turn on vlive and he saw a comment asking what the song is about.

“The song is from the perspective of a fan. They really love this idol to the point where they think they will eventually get married to him. However, it shows the developed hatred towards the idol’s partner when the idol announces that he’s dating. I actually wrote this song to express what could possibly be going through a lot of your heads in regards to myself and my own s/o. They haven’t been taking your...’criticism’ too well.”

When he turned of vlive, within minutes, translation of what he had said had spread like wildfire throughout different social media but people seemed to get the message.

Hwang Hyunjin: Hyunjin felt his heart break a little as he heard you blame the fans for your fragile state of mind. He almost didn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Come on babe. Let’s go and get some ice cream and come back to this with a clearer mind.” He whispered before a small peck on your cheek was delivered and he took your hand and headed out the door.

A few days went by and the messages were just getting worse. Hyunjin couldn’t ignore anymore and your state was deteriorating to the point where Hyunjin banned you of your phone and laptop. “If you keep reading them, it’s just going to put you in a worse state than you already are.” He argued.

JYP and your company both released statements concerning the mental health of both idols and if such behaviour was kept up, they would turn off the comments all together. That seemed to get the fans to see just how much their comments were hurting you and your mental state.

Hyunjin smiled when he saw the comments turning from negative to positive almost overnight.

“See? All it takes is a little shove in the right direction for people to realise what they’re doing is wrong.” He said as he cuddled you into his side.

“Ice cream to celebrate?” You asked with pleading eyes.

“Ice cream to celebrate.” He sighed.

Han Jisung: Jisung listened to you talk out your problems. He judged watched you carefully as you vented about the heated argument two of your members had engaged in and now left tension between the two, but since the announcement that you and Jisung were dating, some of the fans were not being so...kind towards you. Your normally weekly vlives slowly became fewer and farther apart as you were too scared to see the comments.

When your eyes got watery, Jisung momentarily forgot everything else in existence. He forgot about the new album Stray Kids were working on, he forgot about his ramen that he was cooking. All his mind was filled of was ways he could make you feel better.

“Wait wait. Stay here.” He said, gesturing for you to stay put before sprinting out of the room. A few moments later, he returned with a blanket and the teddy bear he was planning to give you on your birthday but decided that you needed it now more than ever.

All wrapped up in a blanket and a tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream in your hand plus hugs from Jisung, your tears were long dried and gone.

“I’ll speak with my managers tomorrow, but right now, let’s just cuddle for now.”

“I love you.” You mumbled, your voice still a little crackly

Jisung chuckled.

“And I love you just as much...if not more.”

Lee Felix: Felix was always good at reading people’s emotions. He was able to tell when people were angry or sad or just genuinely happy. However, it didn’t take a genius to see that you weren’t doing so crash hot.

“Sweetheart?” He called out as he patted the outline of your figure under your blanket cocoon. All he got was a sniffle in return. He sighed and collected you up in the blanket and scooping you up like a baby.

“Why are you crying, love?” He whispered into your hair as he pressed light kisses to your cheeks and forehead. You just broke down further, the only words he was able to pick up were ‘comeback’, ‘fans’ and ‘hate’.

Felix had a burning dislike for the four letter h word and didn’t really like using it unless he had really strong opinions on it.

“What about the fans, sweetheart?” He reworded his question and that just seemed to make you more upset.

“They’ve been calling me fat, ugly, useless, untalented, and even worse, that I don’t deserve to be with someone as talented and amazing as you.” You cried out, tears falling so often that your chest was constricting.

“Baby, baby, shhh. It’s okay. I’ll deal with this later. But right now, let’s focus on you.” He pressed his lips gently against yours and hugged you tightly. A small smile tugged at Felix’s lips. “Do you wanna bake some cookies with me?”

You’ve never said yes so fast in your life.

Kim Seungmin: Your usually bubbly aura and personality was nowhere to be seen or felt when Seungmin dropped by your group’s dorm on a surprise visit (and partially to congratulate all of you in your first music show win)

When he saw your slumped over figure and your phone in your hand, his first thought was maybe you were tired, but when he looked closer at you and saw the tears, he walked straight over to you and picked your phone out of your hand like a grape.

“Hey! Minnie! Give it back!” You demanded, trying so hard to wipe away your tears. Seungmin ignored your pleas and started to look at what seemed to be the reason for silent crying.

“If Y/N really thinks she can sing, she’s got another thing coming”

“If I got hit by a truck, I’d look like Y/N”

“Can’t believe some bitch named Y/N got to Seungmo before I did”

Seungmin felt his blood boil, reporting each of the tweet for hate speech and turned back to you.

“How long has this been happening?” Seungmin asked, his eyes softening as he gazed over to you, sitting next to you and grabbing your hands.

You sniffed and couldn’t even look him in his pretty eyes.

“A while now...” Your voice trailed off as a new wave of tears cleansed your eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, petting your hair and tilting your chin up to lock eyes.

“I didn’t wanna worry you.” You sobbed out. Seungmin wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you into his chest letting you cry it out.

“What worries me more is that you didn’t tell me and you didn’t tell the company either.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“How about I take you out to that barbecue place you really like? I’ll pay for it.” He offered, tracing patterns in your hands. You smiled and looked up him.

“That would be nice.”

“Go get your coat, sweetheart.”

Yang Jeongin: You were Jeongin’s first serious relationship. He was shy around you even after being together for almost a year. He finally built up the courage and told the whole world that he, I.N of Stray Kids, was dating you, the member of the hottest debut girl group.

That shit spread like wildfire. Even though the majority of your fandoms supported your relationship, more recently some fans, who seemed to be notably younger, had been sending hate, not towards Jeongin but towards you for ‘taking away their oppa away’ from them.

It was a stupid thing to get upset over but as the days went on it, it just got worse and it was starting to chip away at your emotional state.

That’s how Jeongin came to find you, curled up and alone in the middle of one of the practice rooms.

“Y/N! Oh my god, are you okay?” He bombarded you with questions and checking you over for any injuries.

“I’m fine, Innie. It’s just...” You didn’t finish your sentence and just sighed.

“Just what? Please tell me. I wanna help.” He said with his round doe eyes.

“I’m guessing you haven’t been keeping up on Twitter.” You let out a half hearted laugh, trying to put on a brave face as you wipe your nose on your sleeve.

“Is this about...” He finally got the hint when he saw your phone thrown across the room with a new crack in the screen.

“The amount of horrible words that they’ve thrown at me is starting to eat away at me. I hate it, Jeongin. I hate it!” You yelled out the last part before wailing into your hands.

Jeongin wrapped you up in his arms and rocked you back and forth. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back and started humming in your ears. Soon, your sobs were reduced to just small sniffles and he pulled your face of the crook of his neck. His eyes held an idea.

“Follow me. I know what will cheer you up.” He said, pulling the both of you up onto your feet as he guided you through the JYP building.

He lead you up a small staircase on the top floor and swung the door open. He had taken you to the rooftop. The soft noise of traffic below paired with the bright twinkling of the stars made the scene feel like it was something out of a movie. It brought an unfamiliar sense of serenity wash over you and for the first time in about a week, you smiled.

Jeongin laid down on the floor, his head resting on his arms and gazing up at the sky. His gaze cut to you and he patted the empty spot next to him, inviting you to join him.

You watched the stars shine vibrantly above you and you sighed with content.

“Y/N. Don’t you ever forget how much I love you. No matter how bad the comments get, that won’t change how I feel about you. I’m doing a vlive tomorrow night so I’ll address it then.” He told you as you rested your head on his chest.

“Thank you, Jeongin. What would I do without you?”

“I’m not quite sure.”

“Nor am I.”

I hope this was good. I know some were longer than others but I got more inspired the more I wrote it :))

[aleator]

day 01 - fantasy au (thor/tony)

Challenging myself again this NaNoWriMo to further my ThorTony agenda. Prompts taken from the AU-gust 2020 challenge list on Twitter.

Thor knows better than to give his name to the man he met in the woods.

Normally Thor is an affable sort, prone to helping strangers and chatting with anyone who’s just passing through. But he can tell straight away that the man in the woods isn’t a normal stranger or passerby, so when the man asks after his name, Thor says he can just call him a friend.

He sees him when he travels through the great wood between his village and the larger city where he gets supplies for the people in his town. He goes about once a week, taking a wagon and a list of goods to look out for. These days the man in the woods waits for him near the road, and when he sees him he calls out a, “Ho, friend, and well met.”

Thor lets him travel with him on the wagon the rest of the way, though the man sometimes tries to get Thor to stay in the woods. It’s tempting at times--the man is beautiful, his hair so dark Thor would call it ebony, and his amber eyes seem to glow almost unnaturally when the light catches them at the right angle. When the man tells Thor to call him Anthony, Thor is certain that’s not his real name.

Anthony is a chatty one, something that takes Thor by surprise the first time he lets Anthony travel with him through the woods. He suspects that Anthony only rides with him just to talk to him, because he always leaves before Thor gets to the edge of the forest, even though he always asks Thor for his name every time. Thor may enjoy his company and his chatter on the lonely trip through the woods, but he wasn’t raised by a fool, and his mama taught him better than to give too much to someone who is clearly fae.

“I have something for you,” Anthony says one morning, after he’s settled beside Thor at the front of the wagon, and he holds out his hand to reveal a dark purple plum.

Thor’s mama had also taught him to be wary of fae gifts and especially fae food, but at the same time not to be rude to fae either. Overall, it seemed there were a lot of things to be careful with when it came to fae, and it would be easier not to deal with one at all, but he’s in a bit too deep to be worrying about that now.

“It’s lovely,” Thor says politely, because it’s really the most delicious plum he’s ever seen, “but it isn’t plum season.”

“I have a special garden,” Anthony says. “I can get you any fruit you want.”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve already eaten breakfast today,” says Thor, side-stepping again, and so Anthony tucks the plum away, looking a little glum.

It goes like this for the next several weeks. Anthony reveals a different fruit every time, each one more delicious-looking than the last. Every time Thor politely declines, even when he dearly wishes to try one of the fruits he’s never seen before. Anthony never gets mad, and he doesn’t seem deterred either, trying again the next week and the next.

“Why don’t you leave the forest?” Thor asks Anthony one day as the fae man gets down from the wagon before he exits the forest on the way into the city.

“I can’t,” Anthony says simply. “I have to tend to my garden.”

That doesn’t seem like much of an answer, but Thor nods and bids Anthony farewell before continuing down the road to town.

“You look tired,” Thor tells Anthony the next time he accompanies him through the woods. Indeed, Anthony’s beautiful dark hair is limp and ashy, his normally animated eyes too dull. “Are you ill?”

Anthony shakes his head, looking down at the single raspberry in his hand that Thor’s rejected once again. “It’s nothing. Do not worry about me.”

But to Thor’s surprise, he finds that he is worrying about Anthony. Even once he’s returned home from his trip, the supplies from his wagon passed out among the villagers, he thinks of Anthony and his pale complexion and hopes that he’s all right.

The next week Thor doesn’t see Anthony in the forest at all, not on his way to the city or the way back. The weather has turned cold, with snow and frost on the ground, and though Anthony is fae Thor still worries about him. Fae don’t get sick, do they?

He spends several days fretting, until on day three he packs his bag, bundles up in his warmest furs, and treks into the forest.

He’s not sure what he’s looking for. Anthony likely doesn’t live in a simple cottage or anything of normal, mundane nature. But he still walks deeper into the forest, starting at the point where Anthony normally joins him on his wagon, and looks for signs of fae habitation.

He finds it in the form of a fairy ring, no snow or dead leaves within the circle of mushrooms on the ground. Thor takes a deep breath, hitches his bag higher over his shoulder, and steps into the ring.

The forest on the other side of the ring is lush and green, no signs of winter at all. The air sparkles in the bright sunlight and glowing spores decorate the trees. Thor walks deeper in, taking the path of least resistance, until he comes across a clearing between the trees.

There he finds Anthony, laying amongst the dying flowers and fruits in his garden. Thor drops his rucksack and rushes over to him, kneeling in the dirt by his side.

“Anthony?” Thor whispers, gently touching his cheek, his heart pounding anxiously. For a moment he thinks Anthony is dead, but then the smaller man shifts under his hand and Thor lets out a relieved breath. “Anthony, what’s wrong? You look at death’s door.”

Opening his eyes at the sound of Thor’s voice, Anthony smiles at him and lifts his hand, uncurling his fingers to reveal a single berry.

“What is this? Why do you keep offering me these things?” Thor asks, a tremble in his voice.

“I wish to keep you with me,” Anthony replies, barely above a whisper. “Humans cannot claim another with a name, but they can share in a fae’s power.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” How long has Anthony been stripping away his power, trying to give pieces of his heart to an oblivious human who was too fearful of old stories to realize? “You absolute fool, why didn’t you say anything?”

“You won’t give me your name,” Anthony says, and Thor swears it sounds almost churlish. “You won’t take my gifts. You don’t want me. I’m not stupid.”

Thor cups his hand over Anthony’s, covering the berry protectively. “It’s Thor,” he says without any fear. “My name’s Thor Odinson. Keep your power, Anthony.”

He brings their cupped hands up to Anthony’s mouth, tipping the berry out of his hand and feeding it to him. Anthony doesn’t resist, chewing the berry slowly, and once he swallows it Thor leans down and places his mouth upon Anthony’s, kissing him gently.

Anthony tastes sweet like berries, the color coming back to his face before they even finish the kiss. His hair regains its dark luster and his eyes sparkle golden once more.

“What are you going to do with me now you have me?” Thor murmurs, studying Anthony’s healthy face.

Anthony reaches up, delicate fingers brushing over Thor’s cheek, and he draws him back down into another kiss that Thor is all too happy to give him, lost in a world where time has no meaning.

[infernwetrust]

The Hotbox [Jim Mason x Duncan Shepherd]

Summary: A little look into how Jim and Duncan handle stress.

Warnings: smut, rough smut, fluff, drug use, apply tags as you see fit

WC: 1.9k

A/N: Idk what was going through my head as I wrote this, but I committed to it. Part of my little Duncan x Jim series that can be found on my master list, here. Thank you for reading! -Juno

GIF by queenxxxsupreme

Duncan laid in bed in his birthday suit, an arm behind his head. Laid with his head against Duncan's chest was Jim, also in his birthday suit. The two snuggled closely together, barely paying attention to the horror movie that was on the TV in front of them. Duncan with his free hand, scrolled through his Twitter feed, Jim occasionally glancing between his phone and the TV.

Marijuana smoke created a thick haze in their master bedroom, the smell calming for both of them. Today was a rough day, for the both of them. And for rough days, there was the nightly hotbox. It consisted of just Jim and Duncan, bare. No exceptions. They'd smoke until they were high off their asses or their lungs tapped out. Snacks and drinks were kept nearby for when the munchies struck.

The rules were simple. There were none. The only thing that could save them from each other's wrath in the hotbox was their safe word "Indica". Aside from their safe word, they could be as ruthless as they wanted to be, as they needed to be. Degrading names, within reason of course, rougher play than what Duncan usually brings to the bedroom. His chest was covered in purple and red bruises and scratches from when him and Jim first laid down. Jim was beyond agitated when he got home and it caught Duncan off guard when he had busted through the front door almost knocking the pictures off the walls.

It wasn't all rough play during this time, however. Sometimes their sweetest and most vulnerable sides came out and they'd make love to each other, slowly, round after round after round until one of them were to sleepy to continue. It was usually Duncan.

"Hotbox?" Duncan questioned as Jim stormed passed him

"Hotbox." Jim responded through a clenched jaw, quickly glancing back at Duncan.

And while Duncan had had his own frustrations with work today, it didn't cause him to come home the way Jim did and he automatically knew that he was Jim's for the night. That was a battle he knew he wasn't going to win. Although the roles were clearly defined, Duncan has subbed for Jim a couple of times. In fact, Jim is his first partner that he's ever switched for and he enjoyed it. Sometimes age really was just a number. Jim always fucked Duncan with the stamina he had in his younger years. Rough, fast, and sloppy, it made him a mess underneath Jim every time and that's how the both of them learned that Duncan was really vocal in the bedroom.

Tired of laying around, Jim got up suddenly, firmly pushing his hands into Duncan's chest as leverage, causing him to grunt. He watched as Jim walked across the room, bare-assed. He picked up the leftover joint they had tapped out on, placing it between his lips before reaching for a lighter and lighting it. He casually walked into their walk-in closet, grabbing one of his favorite ties that Duncan wore before walking back over to the bed. He snatched Duncan's phone out of his hand, tossing it wherever.

"Put this on." he said, throwing his tie at him and snatching the sheets off of him. "Lay the other way. Spread for me. Can you do that for me, Mr. Shepherd?"

Duncan nodded, quickly putting his tie on, tightening it just the way Jim liked around his neck, causing Jim to grin. One knee on the bed, he set himself comfortably between Duncan's legs, joint still hanging from his lips as he exhaled. He briefly removed it to lick his hand, grabbing and squeezing Duncan's length. Duncan sighed at the sudden contact of Jim's warm and wet hand, throwing one of his arms behind his head again.

"I swear you fucking trust-fund babies." Jim spat as he stroked Duncan at a painfully slow pace, still squeezing him. Duncan began chewing on his bottom lip, knowing what was coming next. To see his sweet ocean eyes be so condescending was more than a turn on. "Think your so fucking entitled to shit just because you have a little bit of money?"

"A little bit of money?" Duncan managed to get out between his heavy breaths, a small laugh behind his tone. Before Duncan could even take his next breath, Jim had has hand wrapped underneath Duncan's jaw, fingers digging in just a little bit to create that pressure that drove Duncan insane even though it made him mostly light headed. It forced his vision to just focus directly on Jim, ignoring all the other surroundings in the room.

"I didn't say you could speak, now did I?" Jim questioned, squeezing a bit harder.

"N-no." Duncan struggled to get out, lust in his hazy eyes. "But it's funny that you think that-," Jim's palm was already against the side of Duncan's cheek before Duncan could even finish his sentence.

"Always seeking a challenge huh?" Jim questioned again amused, letting up and going back to stroking Duncan painfully slow but with a menacing pressure. "Talk so damn much, so controlling, but you just want someone to fill both of your holes? Isn't that right?" With every word that Jim spoke, Duncan twitched in his hand, chest rising and falling rapidly. Jim picked up the pace quickly watching as Duncan threw his head back, biting down on his lip hard, a series of loud moans escaping from his mouth.

"Don't have any answers for me now do you, huh?" Jim mocked, rubbing at his own length. "Sigh. You fuck-faces never have an answer to anything. Maybe I should go around not giving answers too. I'll just swing my dick around, giving out stupid little flashy smiles, holding fake conversations so people like me better. Just like a little bitch." Duncan squirmed underneath Jim, thrusting upwards to meet Jim's frantic and wild pace. He could barely hang on with how soaked Duncan was from his spit-slicked hand and his own pre-cum. Surprisingly Duncan didn't last long with Jim 'chewing' him out like that.

"Pathetic." Jim said as he stroked Duncan out, watching as his cum painted his stomach and chest, Duncan moaning Jim's name with every squirt. Jim grabbed the end of Duncan's tie, using all of his strength to pull him up from the bed and closer to him.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Duncan mumbled, still a horny mess as he looked him right in his eyes. He was practically begging for Jim through his fake "I'm sorry".

"I'm gonna show you just how sorry you can really be." He tightened Duncan's tie even tighter before pushing him back down on the bed and climbing over him. This was just the beginning of their night in The Hotbox.

But where was all this coming from? Despite Duncan letting Jim know that he didn't have to work and that he would always be taken care of, Jim still persisted, wanting something to do during the day. So he took up a part time job as customer service rep at a t-shirt shop on the board walk, owned by a friend's family. Jim loved his job to put it simply. And his boss and fellow co-workers loved him. He was a positive influence around the shop. Extremely friendly and optimistic, he kept everyone laughing and boosted morale. A master at the art of platonic flirting, most days he's stand outside the shop, with his shirt off or in one of the store branded tank-tops. He didn't even have to say much. People flocked to him naturally, drawn in not only by looks but his gentle persona.

He became a favorite around the boardwalk. Often people would stop to take pictures with him and he quickly became the social media ambassador for the shop's Instagram page. Duncan was also a favorite in the shop, sporting some of the graphic tees that they had to offer. On the days he would pick Jim up from work, they would almost always leave an hour after Jim was off, caught up in good conversation with the store manager or the store owner, his arm wrapped around Jim as he spoke.

But there was just this one guy Jim didn't get along with. Max. A super well-known rich kid, for all the wrong reasons, he got on Jim's nerves anytime the two worked together. Overly confident, overly cocky, but yet so fucking lazy barely helping out around the store or picking and choosing his tasks. He always got off easy, his parents having countless amounts of money to get their sweet baby boy out of trouble. It drove Jim insane. Today at work they had gotten into it real bad, throwing insults back and forth, almost resulting in an actual fist fight, broken up by Jim's close friend who also happened to work with him. By the time his left he was so heated and was missing Duncan extra this evening, so he was relieved when Duncan immediately offered the Hotbox when he entered the house.

Jim fucked Duncan relentlessly against every surface in their bedroom, not letting up at all, taking pleasure from hearing Duncan's bitchy whines and moans as he stretched him out thrust after thrust. The both of them now covered chest to abdomen in purple and red bruises. Duncan scratched and clawed at Jim, leaving hickeys wherever he could, which sadly meant that Jim couldn't have his shirt off at work tomorrow. The scratches down the side of his arms and back were easier to explain, so a tank top would have to do. With Duncan it was free reign, considering the dress code for his work office. He didn't care if they were visible on his neck, he showed them off proudly. Already an established man in life, he had no fears about his future.

"You know I didn't mean all that shit I said tonight right?" Jim asked, looking back at Duncan as they sat together in their bath. Duncan had his head rested against the wall, glass of whiskey on ice in his hand, staring back at Jim.

"I know." Duncan chuckled. "Trust me, I know, but it was so damn sexy hearing you say it because well you're not wrong." He wrapped his free hand that rested on the side of the tub around Jim, holding him close.

"Plus, I didn't really have any one to put me in my place during my younger years." he winked. "Also was a bit condescending and entitled, but hey, it got me ass left and right."

"You're terrible." Jim laughed, pressing a kiss to the side of Duncan's jaw. "Cute, but terrible. And you want to know the sad part? I'd probably be right there in your lineup."

"I wouldn't let you be. You're not like everyone else, ocean eyes. You mean the world to me and I wouldn't forgive myself if I just tossed you to the side."

"I love you s'much, Dunc."

"But I mean if you're willing to give up that a-,"

"Shut up and kiss me."

"Yes, sir."

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake  @xavierplympton @guiltyfiend @mikhalxngdon @fernfiction​ @theneverendinghunger​

[gwoongi]

best years

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: best friend au, bff-to-lovers au, fluff, angst, guk is pining rating: general words: 2.6k warnings: its a short little fic, sort of like one chunk of a big chocolate bar and im gonna slowly feed u one chunk at a time until you’re sick and full a/n: a squint into the mind of bff jeongguk who will star in an eventual “idol best friend” series that i routinely dream about but have always felt it disrespectful to write about but at the end of the day everything i write is fiction and jeongguk would probably be less offended by a “canon divergence bff au” than he would reading my drug addicted rockstar au so :-) read it & weep folks

Jeongguk’s always been scared of the rejection he might receive from you. He might be a dream for fans across the world, but there’s a split second where Jeongguk feels like he might not be good enough for you. He’s the world to other people. But you deserve the whole galaxy, and he’s afraid that’s something that he might not ever be, even with the money, and the fame, and the doubts he tries to hide.

Jeongguk was taking a pretty big risk, he knew that. It was risky taking any step out of his house at any moment, even on the days where it was pouring outside; he’d think he was safe until he made it to the end of the road, earphones snug in his ears, and the flash of a camera behind the shrubs in the corner of his eye blinds him back to his front door in a twisted shame. 

Granted, he’d expected it to be worse as he booked a plane ticket and made a rather hasty, in-the-moment journey to the airport and on a plane with no layover. Usually when Jeongguk takes a journey overseas, there’s at least one or two fans hiding in the corner of the suites waiting for him, or someone on the plane who’d recognise his face. For this, he’d suck it up and take a photo. It was better to have good PR, and be a little bit pissed off that he’d been discovered, than to have bad PR and to be known as the member of BTS who didn’t give a damn when the ‘real’ reasons for travel were taken away.

But Jeongguk thought the risk was worth it this time. The plane touched down in Manchester, and from there, it was an hour long train journey to a station he didn’t know anything about to meet a friend of yours he’d only seen in Instagram pictures. You were at University now, a face he saw on a screen rather than a face he quite literally woke up next to months before. It had been four months since Jeongguk had seen his true best friend, and fuck anybody who was going to make him wait a second longer before seeing you again.

You were his greatest risk, but it was worth it. You were worth it.

“Fuck, it’s insane to actually be meeting you right now.” Frank is a good guy, ginger with circle glasses rested on the end of his roundish nose. He led Jeongguk out of the train station, offering to pull his suitcase for him. “I mean, I’m a huge fan.” Followed by a sigh and a quiet, “Who isn’t…?”

Jeongguk smiled at him, squinting in the sun as it hit his eyes in the direction of Frank’s face. “Thanks. I hear a lot about you, too.”

Frank grinned, whipping his head towards Jeongguk. “All sexy and scandalous things, I hope. You know, none of us believed Y/N when she said she knew you. We thought the pictures were Photoshopped, you know how she is.” They both paused by the side of the road going one way only, “Shit, she’s gonna freak out when she sees you.”

That was three minutes ago, but Jeongguk’s still playing that sentence on a loop. He walks alongside Frank down one of the streets, past a redundant furniture store that quirks his brows. A man stands in the doorway, a cigarette out of his mouth and ash dropping to his toes bare in sandals. It smells like doughnuts, and weed, and he smiles brightly. He’s missed the UK, and how unbelievably shockingly awful it is when you’re not looking at picturesque photos of London online.

“I thought you’d know that Y/N’s my best friend,” Jeongguk says thoughtfully. He pauses as Frank does as a car zooms past when they’re about to cross. “I mean, people know. The photos got leaked, all of them.”

“Hey, give me a break,” Frank says dramatically. “I only became a fan three months ago. And yeah, I figured. Finally, I understood why all the white girls studying Korean here wanted photographs with her and to be her best friend…”

Jeongguk frowns. “Is it bad? She doesn’t tell me this stuff on the phone. I mean, they go crazy on Twitter when she posts pictures and we interact, but I didn’t…”

Frank shakes his head and grins at Jeongguk until the words die out. “Nah, don’t panic. It’s not that bad. If anything, she might get a kick out of the fame. Trust, there’s always gonna be the girls who hate her because she’s friends with you and that’s like, what, threatening to their fantasy? But she loves you a lot, and a friendship like yours...it’s kinda like family, you know?”

Jeongguk feels his stomach flip, kind of like butterflies. These butterflies are sour, his heart racing that extra bit quicker. He likes the sound of family. He doesn’t like the way Frank implies it, because if Jeongguk is ever going to consider you as family, it won’t be as his sister. You’ve never been his sister, even when you were part of his family growing up. There were times you came to all of his Korean family events, the times his family called you their own, but you were never his sister. It was different to that, you both knew it but never acknowledged it.

Frank makes small talk until they make it to the student accomodation you currently live at, and because Frank knows basically everybody, a student comes to the gate to let them both in. They’re nice, big and pretty-skinned, wearing an Aston Villa shirt that Jeongguk remembers looks a lot like your Dad’s back in the day. Might be the same, might be a vintage.

He smiles at him, because maybe this guy knows Jeongguk, but the guy just turns back into the common room and doesn’t come out again. Frank doesn’t live here, he lives in a flat of his own around the corner, but Frank might as well be a resident here. He lets himself in towards the lift and shoots a text to one of your flatmates.

“Apparently she’s in the shower,” Frank says casually. He locks his phone, taps his foot as the lift rises, “Let’s hope she doesn’t stride out completely stark naked as you’re in there.”

He almost blushes, “Ha, yeah.” He declines to mention the times you two have showered together, the time you went skinny dipping together when you were fifteen. Those were things that might end up getting misunderstood, and those are his memories he’d like to keep hidden and secret. He says nothing, nothing but a thank you when he enters your flat with Frank and takes a different turn to the left as Frank goes right, towards the kitchen.

Your room is at the very end, your name on the door in stickers from a set you got from the 99p store, and from inside, he hears the music in the bathroom. The door opens silently and closes with the same volume, and Jeongguk manages to wheel his suitcase to the end of the bed and plonks himself down. As expected from pixels on the screen, your room looks better in person- white walls and a bed set that’s white with a peony pattern. Above your desk, Jeongguk recognises all your photos together, new polaroids of you and the friends you’ve made at University who Jeongguk always felt kind of threatened by. He smiles to himself, and rests his neck at a strange angle against the wall your bed is literally attached to. From here, he can see the bathroom door in the mirror on the opposite wall, but he knows you’ll only see his feet when you come out.

Speaking of which; the Fleetwood Mac song ends suddenly and the shower water has stopped running. Jeongguk hears the toilet flush and his heart starts to race. Four months of falling asleep on Facetime and texting when there was no time left in the day, and now, here he is, on your bed, waiting for you to step out and...and, then what?

Maybe you didn’t even want him here. Maybe you were happier now that Jeongguk was in Korea and you were still at home, in a new city with new friends and a new life. Maybe the memory of Jeongguk was burdensome. Worse, maybe he was something you felt you had to remember but didn’t really want to.

Jeongguk’s always been scared of the rejection he might receive from you. He might be a dream for fans across the world, but there’s a split second where Jeongguk feels like he might not be good enough for you. He’s the world to other people. But you deserve the whole galaxy, and he’s afraid that’s something that he might not ever be, even with the money, and the fame, and the doubts he tries to hide.

The bathroom door opens and in two seconds, the light is shut off and he hears you sigh.

“Frank, you gotta stop letting yourself in here without telling me,” your voice says. “Good thing I’m semi-decent. Usually I’m not.”

“No fun,” Jeongguk teases, and silence follows. There’s a pause in the room, and Jeongguk cocks his head with his left cheek on his shoulder, waiting for you to click and appear in front of him. Suddenly, there’s small but quick thuds across the carpet and Jeongguk feels his chest tighten with a nostalgic feeling as you come into view with wide eyes, damp hair and nothing but a bra and those stupid black worn leggings you refuse to throw out.

The grin that reaches Jeongguk’s eyes now aches as he laughs at you, at the way you gape in his presence. It takes a moment, a moment of what feels like could be the rejection that Jeongguk absolutely fears, but then you smile so wide that Jeongguk feels it in his stomach.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim loudly, bringing a hand to your mouth as you hurry towards the bed. It dips beneath your knees and Jeongguk rises up to a sitting position. “What the fuck!”

He laughs out loud, and when you’re next to nothing away, Jeongguk wastes zero time in bringing you into his arms, tightly hugging you.

“Careful, my hair’s all wet,” you squeak.

“Don’t care.”

He really doesn’t. There’s probably going to be a damp spot on his clothes after, but that’s okay. You groan loudly with happiness as you hug him in return as tightly as he is hugging you, your weight on his lap and your arms around his neck. Jeongguk smiles so wide, sighing with content into your neck. Here, he smells the marshmallow wash on your skin, the fragrance of your hair that kind of reminds Jeongguk of cabbage patch babies.

“You smell good,” he mutters. You laugh quietly, squirming when his nose sniffs across your neck like one would kiss. “I don’t.”

“You do, you always smell good,” you reply. One sniff, he laughs, “See!”

“Mmm,” he plays along, “the sweet smell of planes and trains and jetlag.”

That makes you laugh, and at the mention of jetlag, Jeongguk realises he could probably fall asleep like this given the chance. He has missed this, missed you, so fucking much. The emotions are overwhelming. 

Jeongguk kisses behind your earlobe, and just underneath your jaw. That’s new. Jeongguk was a cheek-kiss kind of best friend, but never this. You’re not complaining. Your head drops to one side, almost giving him more access to the space free, and he occupies it. Those fucking butterflies; Jeongguk feels sick with nerves as he kisses you, under your chin and across your neck, on that spot on your collarbone you found out tickled after Seven Minutes in Heaven in Year 8. Maybe your fingernails in his hair are a way of you telling him to stop- it’s something he can think about tonight if he can’t fall asleep, something he doesn’t care to think about when he kisses on your actual jawline, to your cheek and the corner of your mouth, your cupid's bow.

He moves away with a blush that matches your own, but maybe you can’t see his in the colour of your fairy lights. He plays with the confusion as he moves the hair that's across your face around your ears, smiling and raising his eyebrows. Jeongguk convinces the role of casual to perfection and bites back a sour taste when he notices you’re the same. Casual, unmoved, maybe even like it didn’t mean a thing.

“Your hair is so fucking wet,” he sniggers boyishly.

“I told you,” you shrug. You shrink, relaxed, “Fuck, Guk, why are you here? I mean, I’m literally so happy, but...Are you gonna get in trouble for this?”

“I dunno,” he admits. “Maybe, probably. I mean...the guys know I’m here. Hoseok drove me to the airport with Jimin.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Jeongguk sighs loudly. “Yeah, I know. Frank told me all about the girls.”

“Little fucker. Is he here? I’ll punch him for mentioning it to you. It’s honestly fine. Girls will be girls.”

“You’re my best friend for life, it’s important to me that you’re not uncomfortable by it-”

“I’m not,” you assure him, hands trapped in his hair. “Damn, this got long. Didn’t look long over the phone.”

“Was growing it out,” Jeongguk replies. “Heard you fancied Keanu Reeves, couldn’t handle the competition.”

“Ha!” you retort. “Simp.”

“For you,” frowns Jeongguk dramatically.

Conversation fizzles comfortably, to the point where you both forget that Jeongguk’s underneath you and your legs are wrapped like a koala around his middle. The fact that this is normality for you both is ignored. You’ve done worse things together. Jeongguk even knows that the bra you’re wearing now is one he bought for you. That could be why Jeongguk feels the way that he does, why this confusion wraps around his body and traps him. Jeongguk knows that the butterflies in his stomach don’t just appear because you’re his best friend he hasn’t seen in a while. He knows what they mean when they flutter when your name pops up when you’re calling him, when an interviewer tries to catch him out by bringing you up in another interview that you don’t need to be mentioned in.

Jeongguk knows that coming here was worth the confusion, and the nerves, and the fact that this will be a headline when it gets out. JEON JUNGKOOK GOES TO UK TO VISIT HIS BEST FRIEND...BUT ARE THEY MORE? Or worse, NETIZENS HAVE PROOF THAT BTS JUNGKOOK IS DATING HIS BEST FRIEND Y/N…

He doesn’t want to hurt you. That’s how he feels scared. For you to be scandalised by an article online that caught him out in his feelings, he knew it wasn’t fair. Jeongguk might be too afraid to say he’s in love, and too afraid to find out if you feel it too, but he’d risk those feelings and the headlines if it meant spending one more day with you.

Jeongguk’s got a week and a half with you. Something’s gotta give within this week. He doesn’t want to go back to Korea with more regrets than he came with, and for now, he’ll just have to swallow those butterflies back down when they pour out of his mouth. Right now, he can’t afford to be caught out. It has to be known on his own terms, when the timing is perfect. It has to be perfect, because it’s what you deserve. It has to be perfect, because if it isn’t, then Jeongguk doesn’t think it will be worth it.

Losing you to a headline and a butterfly is out of the question. One tries to escape when you hop off him and shrug on a jumper from out of your wardrobe. If you noticed his unease you didn’t mention it. He wants to cry, wants the confusion to go away for the night so he can enjoy it.

Fuck.

For now, he thinks as he follows you with an arm around your shoulders out of your bedroom and towards the kitchen to meet the others, he’ll just have to fake it til he makes it. Just like always. Put on a face, put on a show, until it all feels worth the spillage. He can’t let the butterflies escape yet.

It has to be perfect, and he’ll have to be patient.