#I feel like it’s office related but that search failed too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jedibongrip · 1 year ago

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title: be the dreadful need (in the devotee) Relationship: anakin/obiwan Rating: M tags: AU, Gods & Old Gods, set in the GFFA, no jedi Summary: Obi-Wan travels to Tatooine to fulfill his late father's life's work. He finds something else to dedicate his life to, in the ruins of a forgotten wasteland.

for the @deaddoveobikin blasphemy week day 3 prompt: gods, prophets, false prophets! a (wip) chaptered fic. read under the cut or on ao3 for all the tags/notes

If Mace Windu were a less kind friend and employer, he would deny Obi-Wan’s request for a sabbatical, coming so soon as his bereavement leave. Instead, he raises an eyebrow as Obi-Wan silently slides his forms across his desk, unwilling to make eye contact.

“You know you don’t have to continue his work,” Mace reminds him, though he signs the forms anyway.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “I know.” A moment passes. “But I do.”

(Perhaps it’s a show of how much Mace respects him, giving him the space and money to go on this search that he clearly thinks is foolish. Perhaps Obi-Wan would be better off if Mace respected him a little less.)

Permission granted, substitutes found, and some measly funding acquired, the only thing Obi-Wan has to do is gather supplies and pack his things before he heads off. His apartment is stuffed to the bring with boxes, datapads and notebooks, maps and totems, scrawlings of all different kinds, all overflowing and toppling over each other. The more delicate items - glass compasses that never pointed north, beautiful daggers and knives too old and dubious to be used as anything but decoration, but too unsettling to even be used as that, carefully wrapped bone and pottery remnants - were littered over every table and counter space that he has. Obi-Wan does his best to move through the turbulent sea of debris, making his way to his bedroom, the only room which he has managed to keep free of all this junk.

He shakes his head. It isn’t junk, he shouldn’t call it that. All these dusty artifacts, these unorganized folders and notes, this is all Qui-Gon’s work. It’s all that’s left of him. And all of it has been left to Obi-Wan.

He collapses onto his bed, fatigue overtaking him and weighing him down. His eyes burn from the dust and the ashes of incense that have overtaken his apartment, ever since he hauled in what was left in Qui-Gon’s office and house. Like a true academic, Qui-Gon had very little in the way of savings or property left behind, and what he did have was quickly snatched up by his remaining, distant blood relations. There was nothing of comfort or monetary value left to Obi-Wan, the quasi-son that Qui-Gon half-raised but could never stomach the thought of adopting. Between his moments of grief, Obi-Wan can feel himself grow bitter about it. It’s an old hurt, one he healed from and accepted, but Qui-Gon’s passing seems to have bruised the scar tissue of it. But hurt and bitter as he could grow to be, Obi-Wan loved Qui-Gon. Loved and cared about him, cared for him as he grew old and his body and mind began to fail. Loved him enough to promise to finish his research. And despite what everyone tells him, about how he doesn’t need to keep a promise he made to calm an old and dying man, Obi-Wan knows himself to be too loyal to break such a vow.

Even if he knows he’s being sent on a fool’s search. Because even before Qui-Gon’s health declined, everyone knew that his theories and research were odd. Everyone thought he was mad for what he was proposing. Everyone insisted that Qui-Gon Jinn, Doctor of Intergalactic Archeology of Sentient Species, study and research something that was actually in his field. But no. Qui-Gon, ever the rebel, even as he lectured in one of the most prestigious and expensive universities in the Inner Core, insisted that he was right, that he could prove his theory, that he just needed a bit more time.

Well, Obi-Wan thought, time’s up. He sits up and sighs, keeping his eyes closed for a moment longer. When he opens them, he sees his own degrees hanging on his walls. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Bachelor of Intergalactic History. Master of Socio-Political Sentient Organization. Doctor of Intergalactic Anthropology. Oh, how he felt like a rebel when he didn’t follow exactly in Qui-Gon’s footsteps when he turned away from the mysteries of the dead to focus on the mysteries of the living. He ended up playing right into his hand.

Obi-Wan sighs again and pushes himself off his bed. He has a lot of packing to do if he wants to leave by noon tomorrow. He can’t bring himself to be thankful that Qui-Gon did leave him his ship, as helpful as it will be to cut down costs on his journey. It’s a rustbucket, one that Obi-Wan has always hated flying in. Very well, he thinks, reaching under his bed for his suitcase.

Qui-Gon used to love dragging him on cross-quadrant trips. This will be like a trip down memory lane, a homecoming, of sorts, and a final goodbye all wrapped in one. If he’s lucky (and he rarely is) the ship might hold together long enough for him to get there and back, before he can sell it for scrap.

—

It’s late afternoon when Obi-Wan finally leaves orbit, parking garage fees paid, his bags and crates safely stored on board, and coordinates for the source of Qui-Gon’s obsession plugged in and waiting until Obi-Wan weaves his way through traffic to get to a hyperspace route.

The jolt into hyperspace is momentarily unpleasant, a rush of unease and queasiness rushing through Obi-Wan’s body, as if all his cells know that they are not meant to be moving so far, so fast, and so they protest. Then the jerking and creaking of the ship ceases, and planets and stars are nothing but smudges in the pitch of space, and his body and mind calm enough for him to set the ship on autopilot and step out of the cockpit.

The ship used to feel so much bigger when he was a boy. Even after all his growth spurts and moments of teenage rebellion - like the time he stole this very ship to go on his own adventure - it felt spacious and freeing, even as he had to stoop to walk through doorways or squeeze into his childhood bunk. Without the sheen of adventure and the comfort of Qui-Gon's constant presence - physical or not - Obi-Wan saw the ship with the eyes of an adult; old and aging, cramped, the amalgamation of cheaply pawned and traded parts that once felt magical and eclectic, and now felt vaguely unsafe and slapdash. Every corner had a memory so Obi-Wan keeps his head down as he walks through the corridors. When he was loading the ship, he automatically began storing his things in the tiny cabin that he used to stay in, until he realized what a waste it was. Qui-Gon’s berth was larger and, of course, wasn’t being used. Obi-Wan moved his things there, but now that he walks through the doorway, he feels awkward and out of place.

He intended to look over his data in the comfort of the bed, but he cowardly grabs the bags he thinks have the maps and pads that he needs and brings them to the common area. He carefully unrolls the star maps onto the table. Some of them are copies, some are original from years ago - Qui-Gon always dodged any questions about exactly how old they were, or how they came into his possession. But despite years separating some of the data, all of them focus on the same system, the same accursed planet staying in focus in the centre.

Tatooine.

An abandoned desert planet, a wasteland, a graveyard, a planet that hasn’t held any sentient life for thousands of years, since before the republic was even an utterance on anyone’s lips.

The place that had captured Qui-Gon’s interest, his soul, his mind, since Obi-Wan was a boy.

Many intergalactic archeologists had a passing interest in Tatooine, Obi-Wan knew. Despite its dry and desolate state, Tatooine once held oceans, possibly had fresh water too. Some academics and conspiracy theorists believe that Tatooine may have once held sentient life - though what happened to it, if it ever existed, was where many debates emerged. Some thought that, if intelligence was once found on Tatooine, it would have died out when four of the planet’s moons escaped orbit, leaving it with only three remaining to protect it from the blaze of the twin suns. Others thought that the original population could have been some of the first to discover interplanetary flight, and left their dying planet in the hopes of finding a new home.

The nature of the shifting tides of sand means that any remains, any evidence, had long since been buried or eroded by time. What few attempts have been made to mine what few valuable materials exist on Tatooine have been too small to make a dent on the surface, and have never been profitable enough to inspire greater efforts to explore or excavate the planet. Tatooine, it seemed, was fated to remain a forgotten mystery, one that most people didn't care enough about to try to solve.

And despite all of this, Qui-Gon became insistent that Tatooine is where ‘it all’ began. A lifetime of digging up burial grounds, worship grounds, ancient temples, of learning about how different systems thought of life and death and the divine, and yet he thought that all of that flowed from Tatooine. Every myth, every god, every ceremony he ever uncovered, it all pointed him to a planet that, by all accounts, seemed to be as dead as the bones he used to study.

And Obi-Wan is heading straight for it. He fights off another sigh as he scans Qui-Gon’s notes, full of half-baked theories of settlements and rituals, rambles in a code that Obi-Wan is only half fluent in. He isn’t sure why this is something he needs to do. Will it make him feel better, when he arrives in a wasteland and finds nothing? Will it honour the man who cared for him for so many years? Will it make up for all the arguments and fights and months of silence that weighed them down as time went on? Hardly anyone entertained Qui-Gon’s hypotheses, Obi-Wan certainly didn’t when he was alive. What does he prove by going there, except that his father wasted his time, his life when he could have been finding fulfillment somewhere else?

And still, the ship races on, through star systems and empty space, heading to the middle of nowhere and the centre of a universe that Obi-Wan never really understood.

Obi-Wan tries to translate Qui-Gon’s thoughts into ones that he can understand. It's unforgiving work. There will be plenty of time to give himself a headache trying to do that later. Instead, he goes and checks the batteries on some of the supplies he’ll be using, goes to make sure he has all the solar panels he’ll need while he is grounded. After all, it’s not like Tatooine has a shortage of sun. All he'll have on that planet is sun, time, and the unwanted fragments of Qui-Gon's career.

—

The relief Obi-Wan feels when he finally lands on Tatooine is short-lived. After days of travelling through the endless night of space, he’s developed a perpetual nausea, a dull headache behind his eyes, and an unpleasantly greasiness to his skin. It’s almost instinctual, opening up the ramp to stumble out to the solid ground beneath his ship, to relish in the marvellous feeling of being still.

He feels the heat on his skin before he registers it. The ship shades him from the glare of the twin suns yet he swears he already feels his skin searing. The air is dry, sucking the moisture from his lips, leaving his mouth feeling gummy. He only wanted to stand on solid earth for a few minutes, but dizziness from the heat forces him to the ground, sprawled on the unforgiving rock shelf that he landed on, already feeling grains of sand working their way into his shoes.

This is the forgotten hell that Qui-Gon dreamed of for years. Obi-Wan already has half a mind to leave and venture to one of the many seedy resort planets that are scattered around the middle and outer rims.

He takes a few deep, scorching breaths and hauls himself upright, using the ramp of the ship as support. The metal is already almost too hot to touch. Shaking off lightheadedness, he staggers back into the ship, hastily closing the door behind him, trying to keep the blasted heat out for as long as possible. His ship is still pleasantly cool and feels all the colder now that he’s drenched in sweat. He takes a moment to centre himself, a task that has become all the more arduous since Qui-Gon’s death.

He must gather and check his supplies once more, preferably before his ship gets too hot. He should double-check his maps and scan his surroundings, make sure that he’s stopped in a safe location, somewhat close to one of the possible sites that Qui-Gon wrote about. Obi-Wan had no false illusions about the heat of the planet, but knowing it and feeling it are two different things. He needs to check his radiation block and ensure that he has enough bacta and ointment to soothe any burns that he is sure to get. Make sure that none of his water tanks broke or tipped over during his difficult descent and landing.

There’s so much to do and Obi-Wan is already so tired of it all. He sighs and goes to the ship's computer. He ought to coordinate his clocks with the planet, now that he’s arrived. He checks when the suns set.

Tatoo I sets in eighteen hours. Tatoo II, twenty.

Obi-Wan sighs again. Well, he thinks, I better get moving.

He stays seated for many more minutes.

—

Loaded up with gear, it feels even hotter outside. The suns are at Obi-Wan’s back, their light narrowing as they descend under the horizon, feeling like a glare from an old, angry god. He can feel his skin burning through the protective layers of clothing and UV block that he’s put on. He almost isn’t sure if it's real or just the phantom pain of burns that he’s gotten and healed over the five days that he’s been on Tatooine.

Five days on Tatooine. The thought makes his body ache. Five long, miserable days and nothing to show for it. He has less than nothing. He expected his search to come up empty, but he didn’t expect it to take so long. He only managed to find and search two of the sites that Qui-Gon wrote about, half-crazed scribbles talking about star alignment, dates and coordinates that seemed to repeat themselves everywhere he looked. On each page he searched through, he half expected Qui-Gon to start rambling about fractal and Fibonacci sequences. To make matters worse as he was flicking through one of Qui-Gon’s notebooks the night before, eyes burning, movements lethargic and clumsy, he found that a few of the pages had gotten stuck together by time and who knows what. Peeling them apart revealed more locations, more sites of interest. More work for Obi-Wan to do.

It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He takes a swig from one of his canteens, drains the last of the water it in, and reattaches it to his pack. It clinks against all the other empty bottles that he’s finished during his trek today, a cacophonous symphony to score his movements. He’s hiked up rock formations, crawled across cracking limestone bridges, and crossed a seemingly endless sea of sand. He should turn around and head back to the ship. He wants to turn around and head back to the ship.

But the thought of that terrible sun shining in his face, blinding him as he stumbles back to his bed almost sickens him. He huffs and puffs as he hauls himself up the jagged side of another rocky peak. It seems much taller than all the others he’s scaled but it could be exhaustion and irritation fooling him. He’s long stopped heading towards the spot that Qui-Gon marked on a map. Instead, he’s in search of something much more valuable: shade.

Yes, Obi-Wan thinks, as he continues to hike up the flattening incline. If he can find some shade, he can rest, maybe even take a short nap. He’ll wait until a sun has set and start making his way back to his ship. While he’s been scaling this large formation for a few hours, the mountain range rising out of and dipping below the sand like a wave, everything before was flat. He’ll be able to see the ship once he’s down, he can even send one of the small droids he stuck in his pocket to it in advance to light his way. He hasn’t seen any sign of life since he landed. The isolation, the feeling like he’s the only thing to exist in the whole galaxy, is as terrifying as it is exhilarating.

Obi-Wan keeps walking up the mountain, the curve gentle and the stone beneath his feet flat. It curves upwards and around. With each step, Obi-Wan is hopeful that shade will appear. It seems almost endless, a Tantalus torture just for him. His eyes droop as he walks and his neck becomes limp under the weight of his head.

Almost imperceptibly Obi-Wan feels a coolness against his legs. He pries his eyes open and sees a large stone jutting out of the ground to his right. It stands to his shoulders but is angled in such a way that its shadow is cast long and low against the ground. He almost collapses with his haste to crawl to it, pressing his back against it and twisting his body to fit within the comforting embrace of its darkness. Relative to everything else on the planet, its surface and the ground beneath him feel damp. He sheds his pack and lets it wobble and tremble, seeking an equilibrium on the gentle slope.

Exhaustion pulls his eyes shut again as he pants. He claws at the scarves and layers he piled on to protect against the suns, shedding them until he’s left with only his loose, long-sleeved shirt and the breathable trousers he bought just for this trip. His heartbeat pounds in his ears and his chest heaves. The heat is still intense, the rock still hard and unforgiving, but the relief of being out of the sun and no longer moving feels heavenly compared to just moments before. Obi-Wan sags under his own weight, allowing himself these brief moments of rest before he forces himself onwards. Though, now that he’s still, now that his eyes are closed, it’s questionable if he’ll ever convince his muscles to pull him up.

He doesn’t know how long he rests, his body boycotting each movement that he dictates. He’s soothed by the tempo of his breathing, the thrum of his own heart, the sound of-

Obi-Wan peels his eyes open and squints. He turns his head, looking further up the mountain. Straining, he shuts his eyes again and tries to zero in on the sound. He couldn’t possibly have heard it right, it must be some kind of auditory mirage, or perhaps-

His ears prick up as he hears it again. Faintly, further away, but clear once he hears it. Water. Running water. Water splashing against stone, pooling, echoing against itself. Now that he’s heard it, it sounds clear as day, impossible to miss or ignore.

Tatooine has been devoid of water for at least twelve thousand years, long before the birth of the Republic, long before sentients tried to explore the outer edges of the galaxy, looking for freedom and wealth and friendship.

And, yet, Obi-Wan can hear it. It calls to him, beckoning him closer, to explore and discover. Obi-Wan has never thought too highly of himself, never believed that he innately knew better or knew more than anyone else. And as much as he may doubt himself, he’s never doubted his capabilities. He trusts what he experiences, what he knows, and what he hears.

It feels like the planet’s gravity has doubled but Obi-Wan pushes and pulls until he’s standing, legs wobbly like a newborn’s. He throws the protective poncho he was wearing over himself, leaving the rest of his layers in a dusty pile. He just barely remembers to grab his pack but is too exhausted and confused to bother putting it on properly. He drags it behind him, like a petulant schoolchild, listening as the frantic scrapes along the sandy stone as he ascends.

The sound of trickling water is faint, but slowly grows in volume as Obi-Wan makes each labourous step up the mountain. He puts a hand on the rock face to stabilize himself, gasping when it feels cool to the touch, even as it sits in the sun. The path he treads starts to grow twisted, angling up and down, the rock under his hand growing more jagged and cracked.

The sky is a vibrant purple when Obi-Wan remembers to look at more than just the rocks around him. A sign that one sun has long been set and the other is following its lead. The wind picks up, blowing grit into Obi-Wan’s eyes, and he feels the first semblance of coolness in hours. In a few hours, the desert will be frigid. He should turn back, and hurry down the mountain to the safety of the ship. Continue this fool's journey tomorrow or not at all.

But the musicality of dripping water sounds so sweet. How could Obi-Wan abandon the discovery of the millennium? How could he abandon the chance of vindicating Qui-Gon? How could he reject this sweet, mysterious oasis gift in the middle of the desert?

Obi-Wan pants as he climbs. Was this mountain always so tall? At the base of it, it looked so much smaller, a quick hike up and over. He cranes his neck to look back, searching for the way he came, and finds that he doesn’t recognize the path. The sound of water is so close, almost thunderous in his ears. Trepidation weakens his legs and stomach. He edges closer to the cliff face and looks steadfastly at his dusty boots as he continues.

It sounds like he’s right next to a waterfall, white rapids crashing right next to him, and then silence. Obi-Wan looks up, confusion and fear mixing like alcohol in his stomach, leaving him just as disoriented.

He stands before a cave. The entrance is narrow, a gap between large boulders, precariously wedged against each other. It’s dark, inside. A cool breeze blows from within, smelling sweet and gentle. That’s what surprises Obi-Wan most, after spending the last few days surrounded by the musty scent of sand and the sharp tang of his own sweat. But no, it smells like a forest, like a garden after a light rainfall. It smells of a peaceful life. It smells heavenly.

Obi-Wan barely casts a glance behind him before he dips his head and squeezes into the gap in the rocks. He has to shed his backpack when the fabric of it starts to catch and snag against the walls. It’s fine, he reasons. He won’t go too far. He’ll turn around in just a moment, collect his bag, and be off again.

When he presses his hands against the rock, the surface is hard but not harsh, not jagged or sharp. Like a river stone that needs a few hundred years more before it’s ready for skipping. It feels gentle, like a salve, on his sunburnt hands. He blocks on the measly rays of sun that managed to sneak into the cave, casting a shadow where he means to walk. In a brief moment of clarity, he berates himself for not fishing the torch out of his bag before entering. Stupid!

He pauses. The shadow on the ground in front of him, long and monstrous, has grown fainter. A glance behind shows that a second shadow has emerged, trailing behind him. There’s a glow in front of him, faint, hidden behind the gentle curve of the cave wall, but there. Obi-Wan swallows and feels the hair on his neck stand on end. There seemed to be meters upon meters of solid rock above the cave when he was outside. Inside, everything feels just as solid, just as isolating. There’s no way that there could be a gap in the rocks, large enough to let so much light in that it can illuminate this cave without weakening it to the point of collapse.

It’s with a jolt of surprise that Obi-Wan realizes he’s still walking deeper, that even with the sudden mystery of the light, the sound, the smell, even as his mind grapples with it all, his body still moves against his conscious wishes. His breath stills in his lungs as he rounds a gentle curve and the soft light that only tickled him before grows into a bright beam.

Finally, Obi-Wan stills.

A vast room unfolds before him. Impossibly large and spacious compared to the cramped entryway leading to it. A small pool of water, fed by a waterfall emerging from cracks in a wall, sits next to the entrance, but its sounds are light and playful, nothing like the deafening stream Obi-Wan heard from outside. Plush moss and beautiful plants and flowers stretch across the rock floor and climb up the walls and ceiling. The brightness seems to just exist, not originating from any specific source. Glinting in the light, Obi-Wan spies golden trinkets, jewels thrown carelessly across the room, and piles of silks left in heaps.

A young man lounges on a round, gilded bed, woven sheets artfully draped around his naked body. A gilded head resting on a gilded hand. Golden eyes stare at Obi-Wan’s shocked and frozen form, pink lips twitching up into a sly, mirthful smile.

“What pretty little thing wandered into my grasp now?” The man laughs. He pushes himself up, revealing a swarth of golden skin. Obi-Wan swallows.

“Sorry,” he stutters out. “I was just- I heard- I think I’m a little lost.”

He tries to step back. The man on the bed scowls, his expression going from playful to dark faster than Obi-Wan could blink. His back hits a wall, cold stone pressing against him. He turns his head and finds that the entrance, the cave he was walking through, has disappeared. When he looks forward, the young man is inches from him. The warmth from his body feels almost scalding and his gaze is piercing, almost painful when Obi-Wan makes eye contact with him.

The man tilts his head. His hair, beautiful bronze curls, fall across his snarling face. He reaches out with his hand of shining gold and cups Obi-Wan’s chin. The metal is hard and warm, bruising against his skin. He sees the man’s lips twitch as he tilts and moves Obi-Wan’s face, eyeing him like a predator eyes cornered prey.

Obi-Wan has been in bar fights and drunken brawls. He’s no ignoramus when it comes to martial arts, having taken many classes over his life. He may not be an expert, but he’s won more fights than he’s lost. He knows the moves he should throw to get away from this strange creature and knows he should look for some way out of this strange room. But this man… he’s captivating, enthralling. Obi-Wan can’t find the strength to escape his grasp or his gaze. He stands still and pliant as he’s maneuvered, as gold and flesh hands trail across his clavicle and neck. He feels like he’s being appraised or studied, and he can’t help but blush from the attention.

“Who are you?” The man asks. His voice is raspy like he hasn’t used it for a while, but it washes over Obi-Wan like a wave. He swallows.

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he answers. The man in front of him raises his eyebrows. “I’m a professor from Coruscant.”

“A professor?”

“A teacher,” Obi-Wan clarifies. He clears his throat. His jaw aches from the strong grip on it. “I teach anthropology. Cultures from around the galaxy.”

The man hums. “Why did you come here?”

Obi-Wan opens his mouth but can’t find the words to say for a few seconds. “I don’t know. My, well, I guess, he was my father died and he… he was obsessed with Tatooine.”

The man breaks out into a grin. It’s sharp and beautiful, a broken glass sculpture. He releases Obi-Wan, and he feels quick pulses of pain jolting from where fingers once gripped him. The man takes a step back. Obi-Wan has to fight himself to not let his eyes drift beyond his chest.

“Obsessed?” The man asked. “Devoted?”

“What? I… I guess.”

“To what? To whom?”

“He was-” Obi-Wan pauses. What was Qui-Gon obsessed with? “I could never figure it out, exactly. He… he had these ideas about Tatooine having the first people. The first… Gods.”

The smile on the man’s face seems almost splitting, manic in its excitement. It makes him look like he’s glowing. “To whom was he devoted to?”

The question seems ridiculous, insane even. Qui-Gon had only ever been devoted to himself, really, though he showed that devotion in many ways. Like taking on an adopted son. Like paying for his son’s schooling, even if he didn't fully support what he wanted to study. Ensuring a legacy that Obi-Wan could never really understand. But this stranger doesn’t need to know that and wouldn't understand even if Obi-Wan told him. Yet, Obi-Wan’s mind races, he sees flashes of Qui-Gon hunched over a desk, of maps and printouts pinned to walls, chalkboards and projectors covered in his scribbles. He sees all the scrolls and tablets and books that clutter the ship that is sitting, hot and dusty and empty, probably miles away. He sees one thing, one name, repeated throughout it all, sometimes half translated, sometimes underlined, sometimes just penned in the margins.

“An… Anakin?” Obi-Wan stutters out. The name is strange and unfamiliar on his tongue as it crawls out of his throat.

"Again," the man breathes out. "Say it again. Say my name."

"Anakin," Obi-Wan whispers, like the name is a secret like it's precious and special. Like it's a prayer he's trying to remember.

Anakin smiles and it feels like the burn of the twin suns.

#bongrip writes #obikin #obikin fic #this is mostly the set up but things will get a moving soon #m

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cjbolan · 1 year ago

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Up to Chapter 7 of Emily Windsnap and the Tides of Time...

*WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD*

LOOOOOVE the suspense of this book so far!! It’s so creepy and takes its sweet time, as Emily spends several chapters panicking and slowly realizing that she’s in the future.

All that glitters is NOT gold. Also love how it showed Brightport becoming richer didn’t automatically make living there better. In this future, it’s more a playground for the rich than a community for all. Very relatable today.

Liz Kessler REALLY hates public schools. I think Brightport Junior High is a public school? In her world, public schools are a place where school principals sneak in vodka to deal with the stress of working overtime with mountains of paper, and teachers sarcastically speak down to their pupils. Mandy said it best, it’s “95% paperwork”. Having worked in public schools I can relate. I know a lot of kids’ books make school look like a nightmare, this book may be the first to show school being a nightmare for teachers/principals, as well as students. It’s like if Captain Underpants made Principal Krupp the protagonist, instead of Harold and Billy.

Mandy’s secret vodka stash in her office is both funny and sad. It’s kinda funny because she’s the school principal and should know better. But it’s also sad, because earlier she mentioned her dad “pretending it’s not happening and spending most nights in a bar”. Now Mandy’s picked up his bad habits of getting drunk as a coping mechanism. Like father, like daughter.

Brightport has an incredible amount of moral restraint... after Book 4, Brightport could EASILY have exploited the merpeople there for a quick profit, like the Rushtons tried to in Book 2. And yet, Brightport still being in economic shambles means they attempted no such thing. It means that Brightport saw and respected the merpeople as fellow intelligent beings, even at Brightport’s own expense. Gotta admire Brightport for that.

Some clever callbacks: Emily pinching herself awake to see if she’s dreaming (like she did to Jake in Book 1), the Rushtons’ theme park selling doughnuts like Mr. Beeston’s, also Mandy saying “Yes really” like King Neptune did earlier in the series.

Speaking of doughnuts...would Brightport even want doughnuts? I think after discovering Shiprock, they would also discover Mr. Beeston was drugging them with doughnuts all along. Thanks to Mr. Beeston, everyone who knew him is probably afraid of doughnuts. And by “everyone” I mean all of Brightport, because he is Chairman of the Board. Doughnuts may be yet another failed business venture for the Rushtons.

Yay more Greek mythology references!! With Midas Enterprises and all, and their tagline about turning everything to gold. I talked about this before, the series has a ton of Greek mythology references: Neptune, Sirens, Penelope, and now Midas. Maybe there’s more I just never noticed.

I’m suddenly curious about Medieval Brightport. Because when Emily’s Googling “History of Brightport”, her first search results were “mostly about medieval times”.... what was Brightport like in medieval times? Was this before or after Neptune’s “no-marrying-humans” policy? Did Brightport know back then about merpeople and got memory-wiped later? Did Shiprock exist at the time too? What did Brightport in medieval times think about merpeople? Was Aurora originally from Brightport? What if Emily Windsnap lived in medieval times? *imagines a Medieval AU*

I’m surprised Mr. Beeston is still alive after twenty years. Given how old he’s supposed to be. Either he takes good care of himself or he’s blessed with really good genes. Maybe partnering with Midas got him lots of money for exceptionally good healthcare. Why do I have a bad feeling this book is going to end with him dying?

VERY Spiderverse vibes to this book. Emily literally says the words “alternate universe”. Funny this book was written in 2020, right when the multiverse trend in movies took off. I know MCU kicked off the trend, but I like to think Liz Kessler influenced it too.

Humans are now the main stars. What makes the last three Emily books (including this one) unique is its greater focus on humans. From Forgotten Island to the Pirate King’s crew and now back to Brightport, it’s finally showing the human world can be just and fantastical and magical as the merfolk world. Which is only fitting after the earlier books were all about the world of the merfolk.

Humans Drink “Respect Women” Juice? These last 3 books make me think human women have way more equality and opportunities than mermaids do. In the human world women hold all sorts of authority as...

Queens (Pirate Queen)

Sea Captains (again the Pirate Queen, maybe Mary Penelope)

School Principals (Mandy)

Goddesses (Terra Mater)

Tribal Leaders (Ella though she’s technically just second-in-command)

Business Owners (Mystic Millie, Mrs. Rushton)

Meanwhile the only mermaid authority figures we see are...

Schoolteachers

Schoolteachers are important too but, compared to human women...mermaids don’t have many options. Also everyone working for King Neptune is male, maybe Neptune doesn’t allow mermaids in politics?

I can better see why Mary hated Allpoints Island. She went from a world where women can be anything, to a world where women can be only teachers or stay-home housewives.

Mary Penelope: “...look at my life here. What do I do all day? Sunbathe, comb my hair, maybe go to synchro swim a couple of times a week. This isn’t a life for me, Jake. I want more than this.”

(Emily Windsnap and the Castle in the Mist)

I wonder how shocked Jake would be seeing how much more Brightport women can do.

I’ll stay tuned to find out how Brightport got to where it is!

#emily windsnap #emily windsnap and the tides of time #reaction #review #recap #mermaid #liz kessler #middle grade fiction #middle grade series #middle grade books #tw sexism

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touyasdoll · 3 years ago

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MHA Father’s Day Thirsts

In honor of Father’s Day, here are some spicy drabbles of various “daddy” related scenarios✨

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, daddy kink, breeding, general BDSM, impact play, choking, degradation

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima, Shouta Aizawa, Dabi/Touya Todoroki x reader

A/n: A little late on this, meant to post it yesterday, but is it ever too late to thirst??

——————————

Katsuki Bakugo

Trying for a baby

“You’re taking my cock like such a good little slut, ya know that?” Katsuki’s long fingers wrapped your throat, squeezing the sides just hard enough to make your pussy throb around him. “Shit, baby, you feel so fucking good.”

His eyes fluttered closed and he slowed his pace to a near halt, leaning down to kiss you as he rolled his hips against yours in a rare moment of tenderness.

“I love you so much, you know that, right?” His eyes searched your momentarily, the pads of his calloused fingers brushing along your jaw.

“I know,” you reassured him, still breathless from his previous assault on your body, basking in the pleasure still coursing through you and the sudden change in the atmosphere. “I love you too, Katsu.”

“I can't wait to knock you up,” he murmured against your skin as he trailed kisses between the valley of your breasts, all the way down to your belly as he cocked his hips back, leaving just the tip inside of you. “You’re gonna look so beautiful, baby.”

"Ahh--fuck, Katsu," you couldn't help but to blush as you arched your back, shifting your hips forward to sink him back into your velvety walls, clenching around him as you whined in need.

"Eager as ever, aren't you?" The smile that pressed against your stomach morphed into a smirk as he kissed you there once more, before snapping his hips down into yours, pounding against your cervix at an angle that had you seeing stars.

Eijiro Kirishima

Telling him to cum inside for the first time

He was seated on the edge of the couch with you bouncing effortlessly on his cock, gripping onto his shoulders for support as you neared your release. His hands guided your hips, pistoning you up and down as you straddled his lap.

"Eiji, I'm so fucking close..!" you threw your head back as you felt the tight coil deep within your belly threaten to snap.

"I got you, baby, let go. Cum all over my fucking cock." His grip tightened on your hips, littering your breasts with kisses as his thumb rubbed tight circles over your clit.

You were thrust over the edge, crying out as your nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders. He groaned, still guiding your hips as he thrusted forward to meet them eagerly, muttering praises in your ear as he chased his own high.

“Fuck, baby, you look so pretty right now. Always such a good girl, coming all over my fat fucking cock,” his hand wound into your hair, gently tugging it backwards to kiss you, carefully biting your bottom lip with his sharp teeth as you continued to sputter out moan after moan. “Where do you want me to cum, baby?”

“Inside me,” you locked eyes with him, interlocking your fingers behind his neck as you ground your hips against his more quickly. “I want you to fucking cum inside me, Eiji. Please..”

“Wh-what? Ahh, fuck,” his eyes grew wider before his head lolled back allowing you to kiss and suck at the sensitive spot beside his Adam’s apple. “A-are you sure, baby?”

Your fingers knitted into his hair, pulling just enough to affix his gaze with yours as you neared your second orgasm, desperately bucking your hips atop of his.

“Yes, oh God, yes. I want you to fill my tight little cunt up with your cum. Can you do that for me, Eiji?” The words escaped your lips as a mewl, your voice becoming softer and needier as you neared your release all over again. “Want you to stuff my pussy full, pretty please, Eiji..”

“Oh fuck yes I can,” his hands gripped your ass cheeks, squeezing firmly as he continued to match your relentless pace. “Ahh—oh, shit, baby I’m gonna cum so fucking har—FUCK.”

You could feel his chest tighten, hardening slightly as his quirk activated involuntarily. His eyes were blown as his head snapped upwards, a feral growl erupting from his chest as his rhythm became sloppy. You could feel his warm essence filling you up, spreading so easily all over his impossibly hard cock as you fucked him through his release until you found your own again.

Shouta Aizawa

Trying for a baby

“C’mere, love.” Shouta smiled softly upon seeing you in the doorway of his office, patting his lap as he leaned back in his desk chair. “I’m just about done here, I promise.”

“What all do you have left to do?” You returned his expression and strolled towards him, draping your arms around his neck as you perched yourself on his knee.

“Well, it’s actually something I need your help with,” one arm snaked around your waist, his hand resting on your hip. The other brought a hand up to your face, his index finger tucking just beneath your chin as his thumb rested atop it. “So I’m glad you’re here.”

“Oh?” You glanced down shyly, flicking your eyes back to his lips, watching them curl into a smile as he pressed a gentle kiss to yours.

A sigh left your nose as you rested a hand on his chest, leaning into him. He dropped his hand from your face, hooking his fingers behind the crook of your knee as he guided your legs to part, helping you shift your weight to straddle his lap. His lips attached to your neck, drawing a generous moan from you immediately as your eyes settled on the door to the right of you.

“Sho, the door isn’t locked. Someone could see..” your eyes fluttered closed again as his hands roamed over your ass, pressing you down firmly against his growing erection. A low grunt left his lips, before he spoke again, his voice gruff and thick with lust.

“See me fucking my wife?” He stood, his hands effortlessly lifting you onto the desk, where he gently laid you down as he leaned over you, whispering into your ear. “Let ‘em see then. We have important business to tend to tonight.”

Another moan was pulled from your chest as his hands skimmed beneath your short dress, pushing it up above your breasts as he kissed his way down your torso, over your hips, tugging your panties off as he neared your most sensitive area, only stopping when his tongue grazed your entrance.

“You ready, baby?” He placed a gentle kiss to the sensitive, innermost part of your thigh as he locked eyes with you.

Your fingers tangled into his hair as you nodded, your hips shifting in anticipation until he sank his tongue between your folds, causing you to cry out at once from the intense pleasure that he was already providing. His skilled tongue lapped up your juices, occasionally connecting with your clit, dragging it in slow circles as he reveled in the way you looked right now, squirming helplessly beneath him.

“I’m gonna cum right here tonight, baby,” he darted his long tongue straight into your center a few times, licking a stripe up to your clit before he took the bundle of nerves into his mouth. “Are you ready for that? Ready for me to make you a mommy?”

Dabi/Touya Todoroki

Breeding/Daddy kink

“Say it again. You’re not too fucked out to talk yet, are ya, babydoll?” Dabi’s voice had an edge of cruelty to it, that familiar mocking tone that made your walls clench around him without fail. His eyes nearly closed, falling half-lidded as he stared down at your already shaking form, your elbows wobbling as you tried to hold your submissive position in front of him while his cock slid in and out of you, his balls slapping against your already battered clit. “Shit—you really do love being treated like the filthy fucking whore that you aren’t, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, daddy,” was all that you were able to breathe out. It was more than enough for him.

“Oh good, your mouth still works. I’m glad, because I’m not done with that yet either,” his hands left his brutal hold on your hips, one capturing you around the neck and the other palming your breast as he pulled your back flush against his chest. “But first, I need to empty my balls into this sopping wet cunt of yours. Show you the only fucking thing you’re good for.”

Your eyes rolled back as his fingers expertly rolled your nipple while the pattern of his hips became unpredictable, a sure sign of his impending orgasm.

“S’oh yesss, breed me, daddy, give me all of your fucking cum,” your hand reached back behind his head as you angled your face toward his, speaking as your lips pressed against his.

His eyes locked with yours and you couldn tell he was just as far gone as your were, positively high on how good you both felt. It was truly intoxicating, seeing how desperate he was to have you like this. You always liked letting him do as he pleased, degrading you to filth while he ravaged you, but seeing that unmistakeable look of need on his face as he held your gaze now, you understood for the first time how good it felt to holds the reins.

“Have I been a good girl, daddy? I wanna feel your cum inside my tight little pussy so bad,” you almost whined between the sweet kisses you placed on his lips. “Please, let me milk that big, fat fucking cock of yours. Want you to fuck it deeper while I cum all over.”

He wanted nothing more than to keep his eyes on you, but he couldn’t hold on any longer and the sheer force of his orgasm made him snap his eyes shut as ribbons of white flooded into you. A cry left your lungs as your walls became even more slick with the mixture, allowing his thrusts to hit you more easily, more deeply. He silenced you with a forceful kiss, holding your jaw in place with his large hand, the cool sensation of the staples juxtaposing the heat between you. A few more thrusts was all it took for you to come undone yet again that evening, your body spasming, clinging to him like he was your only anchor to reality.

“That’s it, baby, you’ve been such a good girl for daddy tonight,” his hand still held your face, his eyes boring into yours as he swallowed the moans you offered him. His head was clear while yours still swam, dizzying you in your euphoria. “Wanna see you feel as good as you make me feel, princess.”

The kisses between you turned softer and he continued grinding his hips into yours, letting you ride out your final high, making sure to lean in and press his lips to your ear while you were still out of your right mind.

“Daddy loves you, baby. Don’t you forget it.”

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years ago

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Day 140: I Need You

"Alright, Potter," Robards said, "I need you to finish filling out these papers, then I need you to finish that proposal we're sending to the minister about increasing the DMLE's budget for next year."

"Right," Harry said, taking a fortifying breath.

"Don't forget how important it is that we get that extra funding," he continued. "It could be the difference between life or death for some of our aurors."

"Yes," Harry affirmed. "I'll have it ready. I'll take it to Kingsley myself this afternoon."

Robards looked at him curiously, "This afternoon?"

"We've got a meeting about the upcoming charity season," he added. "trying to decide which events I'm needed to speak at."

"Right. Good," Robards said, and Harry could see the wheels in his mind turning already as he thought about the leverage this could conceivably give Harry.

Before he could say anything more or ask Harry to do something else that he wasn't entirely comfortable with, Harry fled, waving to Robards as he made a beeline to his office. He closed the door as quickly as he could, separating himself from the pressure waiting just outside his door.

"Rough start to the day?" Draco queried lightly.

Harry turned and glared at him, "I hate budgeting time! I hate charity season! I hate that I can't even make it to my desk in the morning before I'm accosted by these-" he broke off, searching for the right word, "these vultures!"

"Well, if it helps I brought you a pumpkin latte," Draco offered, pointing to the to-go cup on Harry's desk.

"That does help a little," he confessed as he made his way over to his desk and dropped his bag on the floor.

(Read more below the cut)

"So I'm guessing that we'll not be heading out on an active duty assignment today," Draco said with a sigh.

Harry winced and rubbed the back of his neck, "Probably not."

"Well. Which part should I help with first?" Draco asked.

He shook his head, "You don't have to-"

"What else should I do? Just sit at my desk all day and watch you?"

Huffing a defeated sigh, Harry held out the beginnings of the budget proposal he'd been writing, "Could you work on the budget, then?"

Draco took it from him, "Good choice," he said. "You know, our partnership really did end up working out well," he mused. "All of my father's political expertise has come in handy after all."

And Harry didn't say anything, but that was probably one of the most disheartening things he'd heard all day. Draco had joined the aurors to avoid becoming like he father and here he was, doing exactly what his father would have done, thanks to Harry.

If he hadn't felt like crap about himself before, he certainly did now.

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

It was a long day (most days were, if Harry was being honest) and after leaving a board meeting with Kingsley and a handful of other Ministry officials Harry trudged back to his office because he wasn't sure he'd be able to make it any further.

He collapsed into his chair and put his head down on his desk and tried to not think of all of the things he'd been asked to do, of all of ways he was needed.

"Hey," Draco said, entering the office behind him and Harry startled.

"What are you still doing here?" Harry asked, sitting up to look at the other man.

Draco shrugged, "I just had a few things to finish up," he said. It was a lie and they both knew it. "Wondered if you wanted to come to mine for dinner?"

Without letting himself think about whether it was an imposition or not, Harry nodded.

The other man smiled at him, "Let's go then. Everything else can wait until tomorrow."

"Oh," Harry said, frowning at the papers on his desk and thinking that he really ought to make himself a list of the things he'd agreed to at the very least, "I should just-"

"It can wait until tomorrow," Draco repeated, somehow firm but gentle all at once, grounding him in the way that no one else seemed able to these days.

He nodded once and they made their way toward the floo. It was late enough that the lights had all been dimmed and only the enchanted brooms and dusters were out, tidying from the day.

Harry followed Draco through the fireplace into his kitchen and collapsed into the chair at the kitchen table.

"I hate charity season," Harry groaned as Draco passed him a beer, the kind that Harry knew he didn't even like but got because Harry was at his house so often.

"Let's not talk about work," Draco said, as he headed toward his door just as the door bell rang, "Our Indian food is here, anyway," he added with a smirk since he knew that Harry could never work out how Draco always knew when the food was going to arrive.

When he got back to the kitchen, carrying bags that had Harry's mouth watering, Harry asked, "What would you like to talk about, if not work?"

"Literally anything," Draco said, handing him a container of rice and the chicken vindaloo.

He frowned as he dipped his food, trying to think of anything that he could talk about that wasn't related to work.

"You work too much," Draco informed him.

"You work as much as I do," Harry protested.

The other man snorted, "Only because if I didn't, you'd never leave."

"Great," Harry said, throwing his hands up in the air. "Let's just add one more thing that I am responsible for that I can proceed to fail at living up to," he snapped.

Draco's eyebrows rose in surprise as he froze with his fork midway to his mouth.

"Sorry," Harry said, shaking his head and trying to clear it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Harry," Draco said softly, laying a hand on Harry's arm to draw his attention outward.

"What?"

"Relax," he said. "I don't need you."

Harry nodded, tears stinging the back of his eyes, "No, I know-"

"I do want you," he continued. "I want to be your partner, I want to be your friend. I'd want to be more if that was something you were interested in. But I don't need you."

Harry swallowed, a bit at a loss. He'd wondered (hoped) that Draco might feel the same way he did but he wasn't sure what to say.

"The pressure you're under," Draco said with a little shake of the head, "It's a lot, Harry. And I need you to know that no matter what, I'm here for you. I will always support you, I will always do my best to help you, and I will always tell you to take a break and take care of yourself," he said. "Or I'll insist that you let me take care of you."

"You shouldn't have to take care of me," he protested.

"I don't have to, I want to," he replied. "It's a small, but important distinction," he added with a little smile.

Harry looked down at his food.

Draco let him think, let him mull it over while they ate and listened to the quiet music drifting through the wireless.

Eventually, Harry said, "I think I want that, too," he swallowed. "The more than just friendship part."

The other man stayed silent, letting Harry speak and process.

"But I can't just jump into another commitment right now," he said. "Being a boyfriend seems like a lot of work, and I don't think-"

Draco's hand covered his and Harry looked up to see that Draco's eyes were on him, soft and understanding. "It's okay," he repeated. "If you just want to keep things the same as they are now, that's okay. If you want to spend Fridays cuddling on the sofa in front of the telly, that's okay. If you want to have someone to take to events with you, or if you want to take a step back," he shrugged. "It's all fine, Harry. I've loved you for a decade at this point, nothing's going to change."

A pleasant tingle of surprise drifted up his spine. "If I wanted to kiss you?" Harry asked before he could think better of it.

The corner of Draco's mouth curled at the corner, "I'd let you."

He leaned across the edge of the table and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Draco's mouth where his smile had blossomed.

"Can we take this slow?" Harry asked, still only inches from Draco.

Draco nodded, "Slow as you like. All you have to do is tell me what you want."

"Can we cuddle after dinner?"

He smiled, "I'd like that very much."

"Would you-" Harry started before breaking off and pulling back slightly so he could search Draco's face.

"Tell me," Draco encouraged.

"Would you stroke my hair?" he asked quickly before his courage could desert him. Draco had done that once, when they were very drunk and Harry still let himself go back to that place in his mind when he was feeling tired or upset.

Draco smiled at him, "Yes," he replied immediately. "Yeah, I would like that very much, too."

"And if that's all I'm ready for?" Harry asked.

"Then that's what we'll do," Draco replied with a little shrug like he really didn't mind. "Let me," he whispered, thumb brushing over the back of Harry's hand. "Let me love you in any way you feel ready right now."

He took a deep breath. It was surprisingly terrifying, even letting down his guard that much, allowing even that tiny amount of vulnerability. "Okay," he finally said.

"Yeah?" Draco asked, eyes skimming over Harry's face, searching for any sign of unease.

"Yeah," Harry repeated, smiling at him.

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

After dinner the moved into the living room and Draco put on a movie. They just sat next to each other for a while, Harry's shoulder pressed against Draco's, his right thigh pushed up against Draco's left.

After about half an hour, Harry finally broke the silence. "Can you-?" Harry started before trailing off.

Draco looked over at him and gave him a little nod, putting a cushion on his lap so Harry could lay his head down. And then he started playing with Harry's hair, gently rubbing his scalp, combing his fingers through Harry's curls.

"Thank you," Harry murmured after a little while, feeling calm and a bit sleepy for the first time in ages.

"Anytime," Draco replied as he continued to toy with Harry's hair.

"I think I'm going to fall asleep," Harry mumbled.

Draco just kept stroking his hair. "Good," he murmured. "Sweet dreams."

And as Harry drifted off, he found that his dreams were in fact very sweet.

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

Day 139: Expectations | Day 141: What? Why? How? When?

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #fluff #friends to lovers #developing relationship #auror partners #love #soft #gentle #supportive Draco #I just really need someone to stroke my hair right now

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capaimagines · 3 years ago

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lee juyeon - by your side - part three

Pairing: Mafia leader!Lee Juyeon x Reader & The Boyz x Reader | Genre: angst, fluff, mafia, suggestive, smut in this chapter | Warnings: mafia related themes, violence, weapons, swearing, mentions of abuse, smut, protected sensual sex | WC: 4.3k

|| prologue || part one || part two || part three || part four || epilogue ||

Juyeon didn’t come to your room that night. In fact, you also didn’t see him at all the next day, even the whole week you hadn’t even caught a glimpse of him. Your gut was telling you that he was avoiding you. You saw the rest of the boys and they acted like normal, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to ask about the absence of Juyeon. The last time you saw him he was angry; very angry. The boys didn’t bring him up at all and you figured that was intentional. The house was big but it wasn’t that big. You would have at least ran into him at some point or heard him somewhere or caught a glimpse of him. But you hadn’t and now, it was starting to make you angry. While you trusted the other boys, you trusted Juyeon the most. He knew your story first-hand.

The two of you fighting or not, you had hoped he would have at least been able to put that aside and at least come to say hello. Or at least to tell you what had happened that night, if he had gotten any new information, anything to make you feel like you hadn’t completely failed. Finally, you had enough and sucked up your anxiety and went in search of him. You checked his office, outside where they usually train, the small library where you sometimes found him hiding with a book. His personal form of an escape he had told you. Unless he truly wasn’t staying there, the last place you needed to look was his bedroom. You had never been in there since staying at the house. He always came to you. That obviously wasn’t going to happen anytime soon so, now, it was time for you to pay him a visit. You didn’t bother knocking on the wooden door and you were a little surprised that it wasn’t locked, but you were still too anxious and angry to think about that. You threw the door open, finding Juyeon sleeping on top of his covers, snoring lightly.

You took in the room for a moment. It wasn’t nearly as big as the one you stayed in. You had been in Kevin and Sunwoo’s room’s before and this was definitely smaller than them. If it wasn’t for the boy sleeping on top of the bed, you wouldn’t even think the room was occupied. There was a single bed pushed in the corner, a small dresser against the wall. The walls were plain white and there were no pictures or decorations anywhere. It was very minimal.

Your heart warmed just for a second. Juyeon had a bigger heart than he liked to show. It seemed he had taken the smallest room and given his members the bigger ones. You included, even if you weren’t technically a member. It was clear that any money they had was spent on them, making their rooms their home and safe place, not his. The others had their walls painted different colors, some had workout equipment in theirs, all of them had a TV and gaming station. Juyeon simply had a bed and dresser with little to no colour, not matching his personality well.

Your anger came back though and you glared at the sleeping male. Sensing a presence, he stirred a little, fluttering his eyes open. Once he realized it was you, he sat straight up. Your breath hitched at his tan skin. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and his track pants hung loosely around his waist. You knew Juyeon worked out, but seeing the muscles and the abs let you see just how much he did.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was cold but still had a hint of exhaustion laced in it.

You rolled your eyes at his voice, scoffing at him, “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re asking me that? Really?”

He only stared at you, emotionless and you felt your anger bubbling up at a fast pace, “I haven’t seen you all week! Do you know how worried I was? You didn’t come home from the club that night! And if you did, you didn’t even come to see me! You’ve been avoiding me. I thought we were friends, Juyeon. I trusted you and you can just disregard me like I’m nothing? Is that all I am to you?”

Juyeon stared at you in shock, eyes a little wide. You were trembling from your pent up emotions. He felt guilty. He had been avoiding you as he was trying to calm his anger. He never wanted you to see him that angry and he didn’t want you to be scared of him again. Juyeon was angry that you hadn’t fought back when Sangyeon told you about talking to the informant. He wanted you to hold your ground, say no and not go along with it. But, he could have told them no to. They would have listened.

In his mind, it was his fault. He couldn’t get the image of the guy’s hand trailing up your leg. How tense and rigid you were when he had first laid his hand on you. The fear in your eyes when he had pulled you away. He actually had gone to your room when he had returned in the early morning hours, but you were sound asleep and he didn’t want to wake you. He just needed to see you and make sure that you were okay. How could you think that you were nothing to him? After everything he had done?

It wasn’t like Lee Juyeon was sneaking into just anyone’s room in the middle of the night to just talk to them. Things he had told you he would have never told anyone else. You were his solace. He liked you and if he was being honest with himself, he might even love you just a little bit. But he was no good for you, being with him meant you would live a life of danger and he didn’t want that for you. You deserved so much more than that. Your eyes were glossy with frustrated tears and Juyeon stood up, making his way towards you quickly. You grunted as he pulled you into his chest in a tight hug and tangled his hand in your hair, one pushing on your back. You were still trembling but by the sniffles he was hearing, he was sure that it wasn't from anger anymore. He had hurt you; something he had never wanted to do.

“You can’t do that,” You mumbled into his skin, but your hands came to wrap around his waist anyways, pulling him closer.

He let out a sigh, burying his face into your shoulder, “I’m sorry, Y/N,” He said quietly and you squeezed him tighter. It was silent between you two for a minute or two; both of you just hugging each other as if you hadn’t seen each other in years. Juyeon finally pulled back, cupping your cheek and staring into your eyes.

“The boys and I want to train you,” He said and you looked at him confused, “We want to teach you to fight. Use knives or a gun for self defense. If you want to stay here with us, you need to learn how to protect yourself.”

You shook your head, “No guns, please.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up a little and he nodded, “Okay, no guns. But we want you to be able to defend yourself. In case we can’t be there right away or, if something happens, we'll do what we can to help you,” His eyes darkened a little and he looked away from you.

You placed your hand on his, rubbing your thumb over it gently, “I’ll do it. I’ll learn,” His brown orbs came back to yours and you smiled at him. You did want to learn, you didn’t want to always have to be the damsel in distress. You wanted to be able to fight back and defend yourself and you wanted to be able to defend Juyeon and the rest of the boys. They always had your back, even for the smallest of things.

Staring into Juyeon’s warm gaze brought a funny feeling to your chest and stomach. You had seen a lot of looks on Juyeon; sadness, anger, stress, happiness, but you had never seen him look like this. He was looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. His gaze was so loving, that you pushed down your qualms about how much of a bad idea this was going to be. You popped up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his. It was quick and short, you pulled away, too embarrassed to look in his eyes. You could feel the heat on your cheeks. Juyeon’s eyes were wide and he was genuinely surprised. He was trying to understand why you kissed him. Why would you feel any type of way about someone like him? His fingers brushed over his lips where yours had just been.

“I-I should go,” You stuttered out, spinning your heels, but before you could take another step, Juyeon had grabbed a hold of your arm and spun you back around, smashing his lips to yours in a feverish kiss.

At first, what was your innocent kiss was now full of passion as you tangled your fingers into his dark locks. His hands were placed firmly on your waist and he was pulling you closer. Passion quickly turned to desire and without even thinking about it, you had jumped up, legs wrapping around his waist. His hands were resting on your ass, holding you up as he walked over to the bed, dropping you on to it as he positioned himself on top, all without breaking the heated kiss. His tongue swiped your bottom lip and you didn’t even have to think about opening your mouth and letting his slick appendage fight for dominance with yours.

The two of you pulled away, gasping for breath, foreheads pressed together. Juyeon’s dark gaze bore into you. It made the heat you were feeling between your thighs bubble up and you squeezed your legs together. His gaze alone made goosebumps travel up and down your spine, “Tell me no,” He said, closing his eyes. He brought his mouth to the crook of your neck, sucking on the skin. You let out a small whimper but said nothing. You didn’t want to say no. You wanted him as much as he wanted you right now

“Y/N,” He whined, trying to gain any semblance of self-control. He needed you to say no, he wasn’t any good for you. He couldn’t taint you, he didn’t want to taint you. Being with him would only lead to you getting hurt and he had nothing to offer you.

You pulled his face up to meet your gaze, brushing your thumb over his cheek, “I don’t want to say no,” He growled, going back to sucking purple marks along your collarbone and neck.

It didn’t take long for your shirt to be quickly discarded along with your bra as he continued to leave purple bruises across your chest, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth as he played with the other using his free hand. His hands were quick to trace the curves of your body, moving lower and lower with each touch, stopping above the waistline of your pants. No words were needed to be exchanged, you smiled fondly at Juyeon and encouraged him to remove your pants and panties as you kept your grip on the hair on his nape. Once his lips attached itself to your clit, you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. It had been so long since you had done this, the last time being with Seojoon who didn’t care about your needs, only making him feel good and leave you hanging.

Once he felt like you were ready, Juyeon slowly pushed a digit into your tight core, thrusting his finger and the moment he saw how eager and responsive you were, he added another. Due to the foreign feeling, you felt your high approach faster than expected. You gripped tightly onto Juyeon’s hair as you began to move your hips against his fingers as you needed more friction to get off. Juyeon couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of you enjoying yourself, feeling yourself so carefree, this is what he wanted to see more. His free hand moving up to play with your hard nipples, in the hopes you would cum faster.

“Juyeon,” You moaned breathlessly, unable to finish the rest of the sentence that you had in mind.

“It’s okay, baby,” He mumbled against your clit, increasing the speed of his digits to help you reach your high, “Let go for me love.”

In an instant, you felt your high approach and you came harder than you thought was possible just from the minimal contact. Juyeon was sure to help you ride out your high and once he was done just that, he leaned forward to press his lips against yours so that you could taste yourself. Pulling away to catch your breath you moved Juyeon off you to help discard his clothes as you began to pump his length a bit until he pushed you back against the mattress and opened his side table to retrieve a condom.

“Are you sure about this?” Juyeon asked again, wanting to make sure that you were totally okay with what was about to happen before it got any further. He needed the reassurance to know that he wasn’t making you do something you didn’t want.

“I’m 100% sure, Juyeon,” You smiled brightly, “I feel so safe and at ease when I’m around you. I really do believe you came into my life at the right time and I can’t thank you enough for saving me.”

That was all it took for Juyeon to line himself up with your entrance before carefully thrusting into you and letting you adjust to his size as he pressed tiny butterfly kisses along your neck and face. He continued those actions until you encouraged him to move and begun to fuck you.

“Fuck,” Juyeon groaned loudly, “You feel so fucking good. So warm and tight.”

You could only let out a small whimper at the feeling of Juyeon’s length moving against your tight walls. What you loved even more was that Juyeon was extremely gentle with you, letting you find the right pace and feel comfortable until you told him to fasten the pace which had you crying out in pleasure and clawing down his back. You did your best to hold in your moans but with the way Juyeon was fucking you, that was pretty much impossible. Your hands locked around his neck and you brought his body closer to yours as he continued to thrust his hips into you. With all these new feelings, you felt as if you wouldn’t last much longer and Juyeon could tell by the way your walls hugged his length deliciously. Thankfully for him, he wasn’t far behind, it had been so long since he last had sex that he almost forgot just how amazing it felt.

“I’m close, Juyeon,” You muttered into his neck, letting a whimper slip out of your lips, “Please.”

“Shit,” Juyeon groaned, one hand gripping tightly onto your waist as his other rested on the bed beside your head, his head placed in the crook of his neck as he tried to suppress his moans, “Cum for me baby. It’s okay,” He whispered back.

With that, Juyeon had you coming within seconds and soon after, so was he. The room was filled with moans of Juyeon’s name that came from your mouth, as well as profanities slipping from his. You came hard first, but let Juyeon continue for a bit longer until he reached his high before riding them out together. The two of you were a moaning mess, your breathing erratic and your body sweaty. Despite being exhausted, Juyeon was sure to check on your state before worrying about anything else.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he discarded the condom in the bin beside his bed before pulling the duvet up to cover your body and move a stray piece of hair from your face, “Was that okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at Juyeon, pulling your hand out from under the duvet to place on his check, “I’m more than okay and no, it was perfect.”

Juyeon smiled brightly at you, leaning in to place a kiss on your nose before pulling you into his side, a hand tracing shapes on your back, the other playing with your hair, “Rest for now, we can shower and get up later as we don’t have any plans for today,” Nodding in understanding, you got comfortable beside Juyeon before drifting off to sleep in his arms.

Waking up later than expected in the arms of Juyeon felt more than nice. You were relieved that there was currently no longer any tension between the two of you. Smiling when looking up, you met Juyeon’s gaze as he woke up and pressed a kiss to your lips. There was no need for words right now, you stayed like that for a little longer until it was time to get up and shower before making your way downstairs to make something to eat.

The rest of the boys knew how to tease, and they weren’t exactly dumb, besides, you and Juyeon wenre’t exactly the quietest and the bedrooms weren’t soundproof. However, they tried to pretend they had no clue, although they loved the idea of teasing you, “So, Y/N,” Younghoon said with a smirk, “How was your night? I heard it was quite a high time,” Hyunjae snickered next to him and you felt your face heat up. They had heard everything.

Kevin was trying to bite back his smile, but wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “It’s alright, love,” He said, “We all need a little stress reliever sometimes.”

You gasped at him, smacking his hand off of you as the others laughed. Juyeon only glared at the rest of the men in his kitchen, but didn’t say anything. His possessiveness was prominent and he was secretly glad they had heard. You were his and you had the purple marks to show it. Clearing his throat, Sunwoo looked at you and you wanted to die. If Sunwoo was about to tease you, you weren’t sure you could stay here anymore.

“We’re going to start your training today,” You breathed in relief that he was going back to normal, “To make sure you get all you can out of training,” He said, “Juyeon will not be training you. We need you to fight with your fists, not your mouth.”

You stood up from the table, dropping your silverware, “I’ll be outside in an hour!” You screeched as you sprinted out of the room, the snickers and laughs of the boys behind you. Once you could fight on your own, you were going to get back at all of them for this. Lee Juyeon in particular.

Four months later

Training started out rough and you needed to learn a lot. You caught on quickly though, something Sunwoo and Jacob were grateful for. You learned how to fight with your hands. The certain punches, how to read your opponent and predict their next move. How to fight with knives or at least use them enough to buy you some time in any given situation. It took a few months but you were confident that if you had too; you could stand on your own.

You were outside with Sangyeon one day, sparring and knife throwing, just practicing. The two of you had made light conversation and he would correct your stance when he would see something wrong. The sun was shining brightly and you two were covered in sweat. However, it was a beautiful day, “I don’t know how to thank you all,” You had said in between breaths as you both sat down to rest for a moment. Sangyeon chuckled at you, tossing you a towel and water bottle.

“You cook for us and clean, and keep Juyeon from biting down on our asses. That’s more than enough,” Sangyeon chuckled.

You laughed, shaking your head, “I don’t control, Juyeon,” Sangyeon only snorted, looking at you like you had two heads.

“You don’t seem to know the effect you have on him,” He teased and you rolled your eyes but you knew the tips of your ears were turning red.

“I haven’t seen him this level-headed and calm in a really long time. Or this happy if I’m being honest. He must really love you.”

You choked on your water at the last part of his sentence. Love you? There was no way Lee Juyeon was in love with you. Sangyeon clapped you on the back while laughing, “H-he doesn’t love me!” You squeaked out and the boy who you thought was your friend scoffed.

“Sure, sure. Because we all just sleep around with any random person and spend every damn waking moment with them. Or steal glances at them or always need to be near them.”

You glared at him, “You do that with Kevin.”

Sangyeon only shrugged, “I do,” Nothing more was said and you refused to believe that Lee Juyeon loved you.

“We’re just. . .having fun?” It was more of a question than a statement. You didn’t know what you would call Juyeon since the two of you hadn’t talked about it; nothing was official. You just knew you two were friends, you cared for him deeply and occasionally, you’d fuck, “Friends with benefits!” You snapped your fingers and Sangyeon smiled. “Whatever you say, Y/N.”

You two sat there, still catching your breaths and just enjoying the good weather. However, the hairs on your arms were standing up and you felt a little off, like you were being watched. In fact, ever since your training started, you had learned to read the energy in the room—or outside. Something felt off, something wasn’t right. Your eyes glanced around the trees and plants, seeing if you could spot anything out of the ordinary. You shook it off when you didn’t see anything, chastising yourself for being so paranoid.

Sangyeon seemed to sense something was off, even if he didn’t say it. You saw the veins making themselves known on his arm and hands by how hard he was clutching the knife in his hand. He might be good at not moving his head or body to show he was looking around, but you could see his eyes flitting back and forth in the backyard.

“Something’s not right,” You said quietly and he hummed in response, “We need to get inside.”

When the two of you heard a twig snap behind you, you both jumped and turned around on high alert. As far as you knew, the others were still in the house. Only you and Sangyeon were outside. Sangyeon’s hard gaze was trained on the area where the noise had come from. The atmosphere had turned tense and you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You didn’t have a good feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“You need to get inside, now,” He hissed, eyes still trained on the spot where you were sure someone was.

“Like hell I’m leaving you out here by yourself, moron,” You hissed back, eyes still wildly flitting around the backyard. Every branch snap, every breath of wind, every rustle of leaves or grass had you jumping and searching even harder.

In your haste to find the intruder, a loud bang was heard and Sangyeon fell to the ground, clutching his leg, “Sangyeon!” You yelled out, kneeling next to him and seeing blood coming from his shin. The bullet had only grazed him but it hurt like hell.

“Get inside! Now!” He shouted but you refused to leave him out there alone. You didn’t know what was going on, but Sangyeon could go to hell if he thought you were just going to leave him out there with a gunman lurking around.

Before you could breathe, the two of you were surrounded by strangers with guns. You heard shouting from inside the house and you heard gunfire, “Run!” Sangyeon shouted at you and this time, you listened. You turned to sprint towards the house, all the training you had been doing for months slipping out of your mind. You couldn’t win this anyway; you were clearly outnumbered. Unfortunately you didn’t make it far before someone had grabbed a hold of you. Doing your best to remember some moves, you swung hard, hitting them in the gut and once you heard him grunt and his grip loosened enough for you to slip out of it, you attempted to run again.

Again, you didn’t get far before someone had hit you in the back of the head hard, causing you to fall to the ground as black spots filled your vision. A shadow loomed over you and you felt panic rise up in you in your hazed state, “I’ve got you now.”

That's all you could recall before your world went dark.

Tagged: @scuzmunkie @lisired @kyu-rious

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randomshyperson · 3 years ago

Text

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 13 - The Sixth Year (Part Three)

My dear friend @abimess, I keep stealing your gifs and making updates without telling you. I hope you never get tired of it.

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. || Chapter Warnings: Magical torture with minors, cursing, angst, ptsd, derogatory thoughts and behavior, dark magic.

Chapter Words: 8.486 K

A/N> Yes, I've gone for a month without warning anyone, and yes that might go on, but at least i'm near ending this (I'm already writing chapter 21). Once I'm finished, I'll just programe tumblr to upload them all for me because i'm lazy. I hope anyone like this yet, i don't even know what i'm doing anymore. Good reading!

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Chapter 13 - Part XIII - The Sixth Year (Part Three)

Gossip really starts to irritate you when you go to lunch after potions.

"You want to say something to me, girl?" You charge impatiently when you hear the giggles behind you again, coming from a group of students sitting at Ravenclaw's table.

The group turns around with wry smiles on their faces, and you notice the editions of the Daily Prophet in the hand of one of the boys. It is Hope Summers, your classmate, who speaks first:

"We're just sharing some theories, Stark." She says in a provocative tone. "Some of us find it an interesting coincidence that just now that Mephisto is back, you and Maximoff are losing control of magic."

You frown.

"What are you talking about?" you ask in surprise, referring to Wanda, but Hope thinks you want her to keep mocking you.

"It's just suspicious that no one knows what happened to you in that dungeon, or at the ministry of magic." Hope counters. "And now you two are blowing things up, and we have a dark wizard on the loose."

"Fuck you, Summmers." You curse as you stand up, leaving the girl in shock at your aggressiveness.

The same auror from the first day stands in front of you as you try to approach Slytherin's table.

"Students must respect..."

But you interrupted his speech with a loud shove that sent him staggering backwards, and drew the immediate attention of several people.

You were seeing red by now, the man's wry smile only making you more irritated.

He drew his wand, but so did you. And the room held its breath.

"Put your wand away, Miss Stark." Warned the auror angrily, but you didn't.

Wanda stood up as she noticed the confusion, rushing to reach you, but the auror put his arm in her way.

"Now, miss." He warned again, and you grunted in irritation.

"Get your hands off her." You retorted, feeling your body fever with hatred.

"Stark." The man said, his arm reaching down to push Wanda back, and you exploded.

You didn't even finish thinking about the spell, the magic exploding out of your wand.

The auror masterfully blocked it, and you dropped your wand to jump on top of him.

It was a confusion of shoving, other bigger students pulling you away from the man and he away from you.

" Never fucking touch her again!" You warned snorting in anger, Thor Odinson stopping you from jumping on the man's neck.

"I just pushed her away from the line of fire, you crazy bitch!" The auror retorted indignantly and angrily. "Go to the headmaster's office now!"

"Fuck you!"

Thor pulled you out of the hall as the crowd of students whistled in celebration, excited about the whole fight. The auror was too busy dissipating everyone to follow you.

"Hey, hothead, calm down." The blonde warned as he released the grip of you by the courtyard. You grunted angrily, wishing you could break something.

"Fuck this school, fuck that asshole." You complained aloud, as Thor looked at you curiously.

"You have quite a rage, Stark." He comments, and you grumble in irritation.

But Wanda catches up with you the next moment, and she looks even angrier than you.

"What the hell was that?" she asks and you roll your eyes, running your hands through your hair.

"I think you are going to be fine for now on." Thor comments, smiling at the thank you Wanda says to him before leaving you two alone.

"So?" Wanda insists, arms crossed. You bite the inside of your cheek as you look at her.

"What do you want me to say?" You retort angrily.

"You just started a fight for no reason! Again!" She accuses. "Only this time it was with a wizard who could kill you. I want to know what's going on!"

"I don't know, Wanda!" You exclaim angrily. "Why does everyone expect me to have answers? I don't know! Do you understand that? It feels like I'm going to explode in frustration any second, neither you or Gamora seem to get it. I don't understand what's happening to me!"

"Because you won't talk to us!" She shouts back, just as annoyed as you are. "You're pushing everyone away! Even me! We can't help you if you don't talk to us!"

You grunt impatiently, turning around. There was a strange throbbing in the back of your head, a strange whisper. Like a voice telling you that no one was telling you the truth, that your friends expected too much of you, that Wanda didn't care...

This last thought made you sob. Wanda softened her expression immediately, taking a step toward you and touching your shoulder, but you pulled away from her touch as if burned, wiping your tears away quickly.

"Leave me alone, Wanda." You mutter between teeth. She hesitates, raising her hand toward you again.

"Please."

"I need some time from you." You insist, pushing her hand away, and walking away.

A part of your brain is begging you to go back and make things right, but there is a cloud of anger and irritation that keeps you walking.

//-//-//-//-//

You roll over in bed in discomfort.

Nightmares. Again.

It has only been five days since you had your fight with Wanda, and you are getting worse every day.

With Summers' teasing, you end up noticing other things too.

How the school really found the theory that you and Wanda were somehow related to Mephisto, because the minister had covered up what happened in the dungeons and in the ministry, and everybody thought it was strange that two students were showing an increase in magical potential with the return of a dark wizard.

Unlike you, who were failing considerably in any simple execution of spells, Wanda was demonstrating exceptional abilities. Kaecilius was more than willing to make her the face of progress at Hogwarts, you heard the gossip about bringing in reporters to share the news of the new direction.

You know that the only reason Wanda hasn't come after you yet was because you're running away from her like the plague.

And you couldn't even explain why.

You were also blocking out your real health condition from her. Just like you two practiced during the summer.

Besides hiding this from Wanda, you have kept your friends away too, isolating yourself from everyone else in search of a little rest, only succeeding in taking a nap when you are running away between classes.

And the detentions with Kaecilius keep increasing as you skip classes.

You begin to consider learning to write with a different hand, just so the bruise has time to heal, but at this point you don't even care about the scar anymore.

"You really must like pain." Loki teases wryly as you sit in an empty room, waiting for the aurors' shift change again after your detention.

You don't ask him what he's doing on that floor again, and he doesn't ask why you haven't spoken to your friends in two weeks.

"Sure, that must be it." You joke back, massaging your injured hand.

He assumes a pensive expression for a second.

"Are you sure you haven't been cursed by someone?" He asks, causing you to frown in shock and confusion.

"Excuse me?"

He gives a little chuckle, settling himself better against the wall.

"Everyone's been talking about you being sick." He says. "I heard some of the Ravenclaw people theorize that you became a werewolf over the summer."

You laugh helplessly, massaging your temples lightly.

"I guarantee that's not it." You say making Loki smile.

"If you are sick for no reason, it could be a curse." He says. "I wouldn't be surprised, the way things are."

"But how do I find out if I've been cursed?"

Loki takes a thoughtful stance.

"I don't know." He says. "But I'm sure you can learn that in the no longer reserved session of the library."

You laugh at the joke, but soon you both return to silence. When that hallway's shift ends, Loki sighs, getting up and helping you to stand.

"Still can't perform spells?" He asks, already drawing his wand.

"Only if I want to blow things up." You scoff making him laugh.

"Fine, I'll enchant you." He says. When you are transparent, he looks at you with an amused expression. "See you next Saturday, troublemaker?

"Don't worry, I plan on skipping DADA, maybe I'll be here tomorrow." You retort in the same tone before turning to leave.

//-////-//-//-//-//

It takes three more days for Wanda to finally corner you.

You are skipping class in an empty room on the seventh floor, trying to doze off, and almost fall out of your chair with fright when the door opens and Wanda comes in, looking annoyed.

You grunt impatiently, without lifting your face from the desk.

"I told you I needed time." You complain, but tense up when you notice the tears in her eyes as she moves closer to sit at the table next to yours.

" You want to break up with me?" She asks in a whisper and you raise your head immediately, feeling your chest tighten.

"What? What are you talking about?"

Wanda gives a humorless laugh at your expression. "Why are you acting like this is an absurd idea? You've disappeared. You've been avoiding me, not even talking to me anymore."

You shake your head quickly, feeling the urge to cry.

"I don't want to break up with you." You say. "I..I would never want to be away from you."

"You just said you need time away from me." Wanda retorts with annoyance, and you feel your stomach clench as she sighs. "I don't know what's going on with us. And I miss you, but you won't let me near you."

You are exhausted. So you cry.

You rest your head on your arms, and let your sobs fill the silence, hoping that the tears will take this bad feeling away.

It's Wanda's gentle touch on your back that helps.

"Babe, tell me what's wrong." She whispers to you, her tone concerned.

It takes many minutes for you to calm down. But when you do, Wanda holds your hand, kneeling on the floor beside the chair you are in.

"I can't do magic." You breathlessly tell her from crying, "And I can't sleep. I've been sick for weeks, and I'm angry all the time. Healer Cho doesn't know what's wrong with me, but everyone at school seems to have a theory about it. I think I'm going to suffocate, Wanda. I'm messing everything up. Between us, between my family, and at school." You sob as you finish and Wanda shakes her head, her hand coming up to your cheek.

"Don't say that." She urges. "You didn't ruin anything. Hey, look at me. I love you. Your sisters love you, your friends love you. We'll figure out what's going on."

Wanda hugs you tight, and you sob, shaking.

You want to believe her words, so you push the intrusive thoughts away, and believe it.

//-//-//-//

Wanda takes you to a door in that same floor you two were before, but you have never seen that door until that moment.

And you are very surprised to realize that it is a bedroom.

"How...?" You ask confused as she closes the it.

"Welcome to the Room of Requirement." She says with a smile, pulling you by the hand around. "We hold our Avengers meetings here." She counters and you frown.

"In a bedroom? Interesting choice." You comment and she giggles.

"No, my love." She says. "That's how this room works. It is charmed to meet your needs. That's why I asked you to come in first."

"Oh, that's pretty cool." You say looking around. Wanda smiles at you, and then you both reach the bed. "The room thinks I have to sleep?"

"I do too." Wanda retorts, pushing your shoulders gently for you to sit on the bed. "Go on, nice dreams."

You hesitate. "You gonna leave me here alone?"

Wanda denies with her head, pointing to the chair that probably just magically appeared next to the bed. You frown.

"Can't you sleep in the bed with me?"

She giggles. "We don't have much time for you to sleep. If I lie down, you'll want to kiss me. So I'll be sitting in that armchair, studying as I should." She explains seriously, and you pout.

"Stupid rules." You grumble moving your hands up to her waist. "Lie down with me."

"Babe..."

"Please."

Wanda sighs, then nods. You smile, quickly removing your shoes as she does the same. You quickly adjust yourself on the bed, opening your arms for her to lie on top of you, and she gives a little giggle before doing so.

"Are you cozy, sweetheart?" You murmur against her hair, and Wanda squeezes her arms around you.

"Yeah, your boobs are good pillows." She teases, making you laugh with reddened cheeks.

Your eyes begin to heavy quickly, fatigue catching up with your body relaxed by the comfort of the moment.

"Go to sleep, babe." Wanda whispers. "I'll be here when you wake up."

You smile with your eyes closed, surrendering.

It's the best sleep you've had in weeks.

The problem is that as soon as you start to wake up again, you are feeling sick.

You touch the emptiness in the bed, mumbling softly. When you open your eyes you find Wanda sitting in the armchair, the darkhold in her lap.

"Damn it, Wanda, this book again." You complain in a hoarse voice, but she just sighs.

"Why the attitude?"

"I hate that book." You grumble sitting up in bed, massaging your face lightly. "Why do you keep reading it anyway?"

"It's interesting." She says, closing the item to look at you. "Agatha really told me a lot, but there are also things I didn't know."

"For example?"

Wanda bites her lips, appraising you.

"Scarlet witches are forged, for instance." She says and you frown in confusion. Wanda sighs. "Many powerful witches, born scarlet witches, never got to fulfill their destiny because the forging didn't happen."

You straighten your clothes uncomfortably, pensively.

"What exactly does that mean?"

"What the headmistress did last year was my forging." She clarifies and you swallow dryly, feeling your stomach turn. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you ask confused.

"Everything." She says upset. "I know we've talked about this, but it seems like all I do is cause you problems. With the bond, and with the forge. If Agatha didn't want my powers, she wouldn't have taken you to the dungeon and you wouldn't have suffered."

You poke at the knot of your tie, feeling yourself suffocate slightly. Wanda is speaking, you blink to focus on her words.

"I'm sorry, could you say that again?" You ask out of breath, sweating. You blink to find Wanda's concerned gaze on you.

"Babe, what's wrong?" She asks worriedly, her hands around your face.

You feel your head spin, and everything goes dark before you can answer.

//-//-//-//

You smell the scent of grass when you wake up.

Then you blink in confusion, getting used to your surroundings to realize that you are in what looks like a ward bed.

"Hey, all right, take it easy getting up, Miss Stark." Asked Professor Strange with one hand on her shoulder. In the other he held a potion that you imagined he had given you.

"W-what happened?" you mumbled confusedly, sitting up in bed. Only now did you notice Professor Munroe and Wanda standing in front of the bed, both with worried expressions.

"You passed out, but you're better now I imagine." Stephen explained gently, but you were still feeling very weak.

"Professor, she simply blacked out." Wanda commented in a tearful voice. " Don't you have any idea what's wrong?"

Stephen sighed, and then pointed at the chair, the darkhold.

"Where did you get that book?" He asked, and Wanda frowned, taking a step toward the chair in a defensive posture.

"What does that have to do with my question?" she retorted dryly, and Stephen looked at you one last time before standing up.

"There's a reason it's called the Book of the Damned, Miss Maximoff." He says."It damns its readers."

"That's ridiculous." Wanda retorted, crossing her arms. "I've been reading it for weeks and nothing has happened."

"Not with you."

Wanda hesitates, widening her eyes. And then she takes a step back, swallowing her cry as she reaches out to grab the book and hand it to Stephen.

She turns her gaze back to you, and lets the tears fall.

"I am truly sorry." She says with a mixture of guilt and shame before turning to leave the room.

You call out to her about three times, but she leaves and you don't have the strength to go after her.

"Damn, couldn't I have said that in a different way?" You complain angrily to Stephen, who just sighs, exchanging a look with Professor Munroe. "How come you two are here anyway?"

"It was Wanda." Professor Ororo replies. "She asked the room for someone trustworthy to help her with you. Then there was a door opening in the potions room. Stephen was there with me, and we both came."

"Great." You mutter annoyed, thinking about how you are going to talk to Wanda and convince her that you were not angry with her. "Would either of you happen to know how to make me better now?"

"Sure." Stephen comments by raising the book in the air, and with a wave of his hand, the item dissolves into several pieces until it is gone. "I didn't destroy it, if that's what you're thinking. I just put it away, to prevent something like that from happening again."

"Congratulations." You grumble wryly as you straighten up in bed, the same migraine from before is now weaker, but it's still there.

"You know, you had a better attitude when you didn't have a magical doom on your spirit." Stephen complains, causing you to frown, but Professor Ororo gives a chuckle.

"Thanks professor." You comment wryly, making him laugh. He sits back down beside your bed, and pulls out of the cover a small notebook.

"Now that Miss Maximoff has stopped reading the book, I suppose you will get better." Stephen says, making you sigh.

"You suppose? That's encouraging." You say moving to stand up.

"Where are you going, Miss Stark? You need to rest." Warn the professor, but you ignore him, and ignore the weakness in your body as well.

"What I need, Strange, is for people to stop lying to me."

"No one is lying, Miss Stark." Professor Ororo states next. "We really don't know the extent of the magic the darkhold carries."

"And why is that I imagine?" You sneer. "Because someone omitted the truth from you, and it's been passed down for generations, isn't it? Well, that's over now. Because we've finally studied everything in this place, including a book that condemns anyone who reads it." You exclaim impatiently, stooping down to put on your shoes. "If you two will excuse me, I'll figure out how to get better on my own. But first I'm going to explain to my girlfriend that none of this is her fault."

Ororo and Stephen are silent, but you wouldn't have been paying attention to anything they said anyway.

Soon you are up and out of the requirement room looking for Wanda.

//-//-//-//

She seems to have disappeared from the castle, so you must concentrate to use your instincts.

The hardest part is dodging the aurors, but you finally reach the astronomy tower.

You're a little out of breath from the run, but it's the image of Wanda standing on the edge, the sunlight in her hair that leaves you breathless.

"Hi." You say in a low tone, your hands in your pockets as you approach. She startles slightly, wiping away tears as she keeps her gaze forward.

"What do you want here?" she asks in a husky voice. You sigh.

"That you stop hating yourself and listen to me." You say and she lets out a short laugh.

"And what do you think you can say?" She questions turning her body toward you. "All I do is hurt you."

You shake your head, but Wanda lets out a tearful laugh.

"No you don't understand." She says. "Since I met you, you have only brought me good things. Affection, happiness, hope. You've been that kind warm feeling that I need on my worst days. Hell, you're even the memory for me to cast a patronus." She confesses with emotion, her face wet with tears. "But me? All I bring you is pain and suffering. And now I even bring sickness. This is wrong, I hurt you. You need to see this, and understand that we can no longer happen."

"Don't say that." You ask, reaching up to touch her face, wipe away her tears. "That's not true, Wanda. I love you, you make me..."

"Stop it." She interrupts with a sob. "Don't make it any harder than it already is."

"Please, Wanda, listen to me." You plead, resting your forehead on hers, your hands on her cheeks. "You make me happy, you are the only thing that makes me happy, I love you, please..."

Wanda kisses you hard, and you respond with the same intensity, both of you gasping into each other's mouths.

But then she is pulling away, thrusting you farther apart.

"I'm sorry." She cries, taking a step back. "We're over."

And she's running away again, and this time you don't go after her.

//-//-//-//-//

Without Darkhold's being consumed, you really start to improve in terms of physical health.

The only problem is the emotional ditch you find yourself in.

Gamora, Nebula and Mantis find you, again in the Room of Requirement, skipping class.

"My god this is worse than last time." Gamora remarks as she looks around at the mess of junk food and pillows. The room had been transformed into a "comfortable place", which basically had the appearance of a living room, with several soft armchairs, and lots of unhealthy food. "Why did you guys break up this time?"

"Please don't talk to me." You grumbled, your voice coming out muffled because you were lying on two soft puffs, your face buried in the pillow, your hand inside a bag of muggles snacks.

"I bet you five bucks they'll be back together before the end of the month." Nebula commented and you sniffled against your pillow, hearing a noise that sounded like Gamora hitting her sister.

"We talked to Wanda." Mantis said. "And with Professor Stephen, too. We're sorry about everything, but have you decided you're not going to study anymore?"

"I don't care about school." You grumble against the pillow. "Leave me alone, I want to cry."

Nebula gives a short laugh, and Gamora elbows her.

"Stop hitting me, you crazy." Nebula complains loudly, moving away from her sister to approach you, taking the bag of snacks you have, and making you complain softly. "And you stop being such a drama queen. Aren't you two like soul mates or some shit? It's just a fight, you'll work it out. You're acting like you've never broken up before."

"Your sensitivity is admirable." Gamora scoffs, pushing her sister away to sit next to you, stroking your back until you look up at her. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

You feel the urge to cry arise again. "Wanda thinks she is bad for me." You say. "And she doesn't want to be with me anymore, and I want to die."

You start crying again, stuffing your face into the pillow as Gamora strokes your hair.

"How did this happen anyway?" Nebula asks, confused, chewing on salty snacks."You barely slept at home over the summer to be with her, and now you guys are breaking up. It's hard to keep up with this relationship."

"Merlin, Nebula shut up." Gamora asks impatiently, and her sister raises her hands in surrender with an ironic expression. You want to scream against your pillow, but all you do is try to control your crying.

"You can't keep disappearing, sweetheart." Gamora says as she runs her hands through your hair, trying to calm you down. "Kaecilius has already noticed. He's trying to figure out where you're going, and eventually he'll figure it out since you can't stay here forever."

"Maybe I can." You mumble making Gamora laugh softly.

"Come on, I'm sure you miss a decent meal." She says. "Why don't you join us for lunch?"

"I can't sit at your table."

"Who said anything about a table?"

This is how you end up on the edge of the great lake, at a picnic.

Mantis gets several dishes from the house elves, and since lunch is a free social hour, nobody seems to mind that you are eating outside.

Your sisters are not the only students who, over time, have learned ways around school rules.

You grumble slightly as you feel the sun on your face, but lie back on the grass, closing your eyes.

Your mind wanders back to last summer immediately, the memories of Wanda, and you feel horrible. You just want her back. And then you swallow the urge to cry again to accept the juice Mantis offers you.

"We wanted to tell you that we've found a way to help you, too." Gamora says after a moment, causing you to raise your eyebrow. "About the darkhold, and the eternal damnation thing."

"Light topic." You sneer, throwing your arm over your face. The day is hot. "I appreciate the help, of course."

Gamora giggles. "Merlin, I had forgotten how grumpy you get when you're upset."

"I'm not upset, Gamora." You retort angrily. "I'm frustrated."

"Sexually." Nebula sneers, making you grunt in anger, but Mantis holds back a laugh.

"What's your problem with my feelings lately?" You accuse the girl with irritation.

"Not everything is about you, you know." She retorts and you sit up quickly, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Nebula laughs, rolling her eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going on." She says. "We're all stressed and scared. And the three of us have been in the same classes as you, having to watch the same things. But you only have time for Wanda. And now you've broken up, again, because there's some mortal danger, again, that she's caused for you. So, I don't know, but maybe she is right to break up. Ever since you guys started dating everything has been about her, and the trouble she causes!"

"Fuck you, Nebula!" You exclaim angrily, advancing against the girl in front of you. Gamora and Mantis quickly separate you.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Gamora shoves you. "Were you really going to hit her?"

"Fuck this." You curse angrily, taking a step away. "I didn't ask any of you to come after me. I don't need you. I just need Wanda. Fucking leave me alone."

You turn back to the castle, cursing the wild on your way.

//-//-//-//

Loki is the only friend you have now.

You wouldn't call him a friend exactly.

Kaecilius has put you in detention for three days a week, including Saturday, but mostly you just clean the castle. But when he takes you to the seventh floor, and makes you scrape sentences against your own skin, you don't worry about being alone anymore, because Loki is always on that floor.

It takes a week for you to tell him about the requirement room.

" You could have mentioned it earlier, we would have stuck around here." He comments without sounding upset.

Soon it doesn't take long for you two to start seeing each other even when you're not in detention.

You are not surprised that Loki also skips classes, he has always been quite mischievous, but the reason is different from yours.

He knew dark magic. Much more than you or your classmates. And he has no interest in practicing it in class.

"It's stupid." He comments as you are sitting in the armchairs. "Most people will never have the courage or willpower to cast a death curse. It's useless to learn."

"Is that the only reason you don't agree with the teaching at Hogwarts now?" You ask in surprise, setting up the chessboard for yourself as Loki shrugs his shoulders.

"I feel like you're judging me, Hufflepuff." He sneers but you smile, rolling your eyes.

"Honestly, I don't give a damn."

And you really didn't care.

Wanda was avoiding you in the halls, and you were doing the same with your friends and family.

When Iron delivered the mail to the Slytherin table, including Nebula's birthday presents, you wanted to throw up, but all you did was walk away from the Hufflepuff table toward the requirement room.

Without the darkhold, you didn't feel sick, but the anger didn't go away.

Your magic hadn't stabilized, and you were failing at everything, but you couldn't bring yourself to worry about it.

Erik wrote to you, commenting on the importance of you and Wanda practicing magical balancing together, and you burned the letter while crying on the carpet.

And at this rate, time went by.

It was almost the middle of the school year when things started to take a turn for the worse at Hogwarts, and in the wizarding war as well.

Mephisto is getting stronger, and the order is losing. And Kaecillius must be under some pressure from the ministry, maybe for answers from organizations like the Avengers, which are forbidden, because his detentions get too horrible.

It is Saturday again, and you drag yourself to the room where you are supposed to fulfill your detention, but unlike the other days, Kaecillius locks the door.

You only notice because he seems tense and distracted, and there is no feather or book.

"Professor, what will my punishment be today?" You ask confused, and he is nodding to the center of the room as he stands in front of the desk, a few feet from you.

"Miss Stark, today I want to ask some questions and I expect honesty." He declines as he turns to you.

You hiss softly, putting your hands in your pockets.

"Shoot."

Kaecillius doesn't even mind your lack of formality, looking at you with an impassive face.

"What is Mephisto's location?"

You choke in surprise and disbelief. "Excuse me? Why do you think I know that?"

"The ministry has reason enough to suspect that the Order of the Avengers is nothing more than a cover for the death walkers.Your brother, whom I had suspected of being part of that order of delinquents, is no longer at Hogwarts, but you will have to serve." He speaks and with each word you become more outraged. "Now answer me, where is Mephisto?"

" Did you just fucking call my brother a delinquent?" You mutter incredulously. "I have no idea where Mephisto is, what's your problem?"

But you widen your eyes when the professor draws his wand, and you barely have time to swallow dry before the spell hits you in the chest.

It's the cruciatus curse. You know the second it hits you. The sharp pain fills every cell in your body and you scream, not having the strength to stand or with your eyes open, hugging yourself.

"We must not tell lies, Miss Stark." Kaecillius says as soon as he stops enchanting you, the pain disappears in the same instant, but you continue to tremble.

In complete shock and fear, you sob.

"I will ask you again, where is Mephisto?"

You let the tears flow, and shake your head. "I don't know, professor."

Kaecillius lets out a sigh of disappointment. "Some cases are more difficult than others." He comments somberly, taking a step toward her. "Did you know that the record for enduring the Cruciatus curse before madness is six hours? Incredible, isn't it? It happened during the first war, with a muggleborn. You're a half-blood, maybe you can take longer"

He has a devilish grin as he finishes, and you clench your jaw at the threat.

"I don't know where Mephisto is." You repeat, but the professor points his wand at you again.

"My bet is seven hours."

And then the pain returns.

You don't know how long you stay in that room.

But it is long enough for your consciousness to begin to fade. The pain gets so severe that it gradually fades away. You begin to gasp breathlessly, not even able to scream anymore.

Someone help me. Please, help me. Help me. Wanda.

Between the tears you see the floor of the room, and between a twinge of pain, a red light. And everything is dark again.

//-//-//

“Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Warcraft and Wizard is arrested in flagrant by aurors from the ministry of magic this week, full coverage on page..."

You blink confusedly, your eyes getting used to the clarity, while the headline of the Daily Prophet was the first thing your vision caught.

And then you shifted in bed, realizing that you were in a hospital room , and whoever was reading next to you put the paper down when they heard you, and you could behold the curious look on your brother's face.

"Tony?" you whispered confused, and he smiled as he stood up quickly, the newspaper forgotten on the armchair.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" He asked as his hand reached for the loose strands of hair on your face and put them back. "You scared the hell out of me."

"What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

You thought, and then sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.

"Kaecilius."

Tony bit his lip nervously before speaking.

"I'm sorry." He said, lowering his hand to his own. "I came here as soon as I got the howler from Professor Strange, but honestly, I didn't even need it, because all the newspapers are talking about it."

"What...?" You started in confusion, but Tony hurried to explain.

"Wanda found you, Y/N." He told. "She, well, wasn't exactly happy about the whole thing. I think she lost control. Kaecilius is lucky to be alive if you ask me. She almost destroyed the seventh floor, it was a huge mess. And then the aurors interfered, and soon there were reporters everywhere. I guess now everyone knows she's a scarlet witch."

You widened your eyes, straightening to sit up and grumbling a little in pain. Tony looked at you with concern, asking you to take it easy, but you were already asking about Wanda.

"She's at the ministry of magic." He clarified. "Kaecilius is going on trial for torturing a student, and she will answer for putting everyone in danger."

" What?" you ask incredulously, and Tony sighs.

"Yeah I know it's unfair." He says. "But the minister of magic seems to be looking everywhere for people to blame for his lack of control. The problem is how much of that information will get to Mephisto. The whole ministry seems to be full of walkers."

You ran your hand across your face, frustrated.

"I'm so tired, Tony." You confess in a whisper. "It feels like everything is falling apart around me, and things are only getting worse."

Tony squeezes your hand. "I'm sorry, I really am. This whole situation sucks, and I wanted to help you. I'm trying, sister. I haven't been talking to you as much as I should, but I didn't want you to think you're alone. I'm working on breaking the bond. To free you and Wanda from the prophecy, and the wizarding world from dangers like Mephisto. I'm sorry I haven't been by your side."

You swallow your cry, and nod, trying to smile at Tony. He reaches up to hug you, and you gasp softly, taking a few seconds to relax and let the tears flow.

When you calm down, Tony tells you that he is going to get a Mediwizards to check your situation.

You lie down again, sighing softly. The memories come back with full force, and you choke softly, feeling your body tremble.

It's as if you can feel the curse again, sense the pain on your skin. Opening your eyes and shaking the memories away, you swallow dryly and reach for the glass of water on the nightstand.

You just want Wanda by your side telling you that everything is going to be okay.

//-//-//-//-//

You stay under observation for two days.

Doctor Hank makes a joke about you enjoying St.Mungus more than you should since you keep coming back, but Tony doesn't laugh.

Then you' re going back to Hogwarts by train, because the doctor thinks you shouldn't use magical means of transportation for a few days, and it's weird to take the empty express, but as soon as you arrive at the station, Gamora and Nebula are waiting for you with boxes of candy bought in Hogsmeade, and tight hugs.

You are not surprised by the stares you receive from the other students, but you ignore them as your sisters escort you around the castle to the Hufflepuff communal hall.

"Did you get to talk to Wanda?" Gamora asks as soon as you sit down on your bed, sighing with exhaustion from the train ride. The mention of the other sorceress' name doesn't help.

"Not yet." You say. "And I wouldn't be surprised to hear that she's ignoring me."

Nebula exchanges a look with her sister before sitting down on Mantis' bed, who is hugging her knees and looking at you.

"Honestly, I just want to finish this year without any more problems." You confess as you take off your jacket. And there is a moment of silence before you swallow dryly. "I also wanted to apologize to you guys."

Gamora frowns slightly, but says nothing. You take a deep breath.

"I know I was under the influence of an evil book, but that was still no excuse for treating you guys like that." You begin. "Tony told me about how things are in the wizarding world. Everyone is going through something, and it was selfish of me to think that only my problems matter. I'm sorry."

"Really, Y/N, it's okay." Nebula says, surprising you a bit. "We were all stressed, and well, I think an evil book is a pretty fair excuse." She jokes, making you smile. "Maybe things will get a little better now that Strange is the director."

"Oh, that's right" You comment just then remembering the things Tony updated you on while you were at St.Mungus. Like Kaecillius' resignation, and the position being passed on to Professor Stephen. "But honestly, I won't be at peace until I hear from Wanda."

"The trial isn't until Friday. And the way things are going, we won't get any news until it's over." Gamora warned as she sat down on the bed next to you. "I think the Maximoffs are probably too busy to write."

"What do you think will happen to Wanda?" You ask as you tug at the loose strands of the comforter. Mantis sighs lightly.

"I don't have a good feeling about things, Y/N." She confesses and you frown in concern. "And the stars never lie."

"Thank you, Mantis." You mock softly, and Gamora runs her hands through her hair.

"Let's not be pessimistic, okay?" she says. "Maybe the predictions are about, I don't know, the school finals? It doesn't mean something bad is really going to happen."

You grumble unhappily, grabbing a pillow and sinking your face into it. Gamora strokes your back.

"I'm sure things will work out, Y/N." She says. "Wanda will write as soon as she can."

"Do you guys think Kaecilius will be sent to Azkaban?" Nebula asks next, making you raise your head curiously.

"I wouldn't be so sure." You grumble. "I was actually surprised that he was put on trial at all."

"Well, with the whole mess that happened, it was bound to happen." Gamora said. "More than half the school became aware that he used the cruciatus curse on you, and then the daily prophet. And I didn't even know they were in the castle."

"It was because of Wanda really, wasn't it?" Mantis added. "Kaecillius caused his own ruin. He called the journalists to show what he called progress and decided to torture a student while they were in the castle. Then Wanda destroyed the entire floor and the next morning his arrest was all over the pages."

"I'm just really outraged to know that if no one had seen it, he would probably still be at Hogwarts." Gamora says angrily, and you sigh, agreeing as well as the others.

"Well, you must be hungry, shall we go to the great hall? It's almost dinner time." Gamora comments next, pulling you by the hand. You grumble softly, but agree, and soon you are leaving the communal hall to join the rest of the students.

//-//-//-//-//

You are tapping your fingers gently against the desk as you wait for the History of Magic class to begin.

It is Friday, finally.

You have barely slept because of anxiety about news of Wanda's trial.

Things at Hogwarts have changed a lot this week, all because of Strange's administration.

He restored the old classes, banned the teaching of dark magic, the scandal at the Daily Prophet being enough of an argument that the Minister of Magic no longer had a defense over this kind of teaching at Hogwarts. The restricted session of the library was also put back, and the seventh floor was off-limits because of the destruction Wanda caused, and you unfortunately lost access to the Requirement room.

Mantis was writing what looked like a lunar calendar for the divination class while Professor Okoye didn't arrive, and you started whistling distractedly.

And then Thor Odinson was poking you in the back to get your attention, and you turned around in your chair.

"Hi, Stark, what's up?"

"Fine." You grumbled suspiciously. "Can I help you with something?"

Thor looked almost unsure. "I was just wondering if you know of anything going on with Loki."

You frowned. "Excuse me?"

"I mean if you know if he's sick or something." He explains. "We had a fight, and well, he's not talking to me. And I've noticed that you guys have been kind of close lately, and I was curious if you knew anything and..."

"No, Thor, I'm sorry." You interrupt with a sigh. "Maybe you should ask him that."

Thor assumes a sad expression. "I would, but he's ignoring me. I think it might be about our mother."

You make a confused expression, and Thor looks surprised.

"Our mother, she...died earlier this year, Y/N." Thor counters, and you widen your eyes. "Our family is a name of reference against Mephisto. With the war, the walkers came to our home. She was there while we were here, and Dad was at the ministry."

"I'm so sorry, Thor." You whisper to him, still shocked by the information. He shrugged.

"I thought Loki told you."

"We don't talk about things like that, I guess." You say. "Sorry, I wish I knew how to help you."

"No, it's okay." Thor says with a sad smile. "You being his friend this year is more than enough. I don't like seeing him all alone out here."

You nod lightly, settling into your chair as you notice the teacher entering the room.

Mantis exchanges a look of understanding with you, having overheard the conversation even if accidentally, but she says nothing, and soon you are hearing about the witch hunt in the United States, and you try to focus on that rather than curiosity about how Wanda's trial is going or Loki's current emotional state.

//-//-/-//-//-//

As soon as lunchtime begins, you join the Slytherin table, where some of the students have placed a radio on the table, equally with other students from the other houses, to listen to the trial.

You are not surprised that a student's trial is such an interesting topic for everyone, but after the school started talking about Wanda being a scarlet witch, and the theories circulating around the halls, it was to be expected.

So you sit back while biting your fingertips and listening.

"And now directly from the Ministry of Magic, the trial of seventeen-year-old witch Wanda Maximoff, daughter of legendary witch Erik L-"

Your attention is slightly diverted from the narrative when loud laughter catches your ears.

They are Gryffindor and Slytherin students, exchanging coins. You don't need to hear the conversation to know they are gambling about the trial, the mean laughter and glances in the direction of you and your sisters are enough.

And as if she could feel your growing fury, Gamora touches your shoulder gently.

"Just ignore them, Y/N." She urges and you clench your jaw. " Everything is going to be okay with Wanda."

"I hope you're right, Gamora." You grumble, turning your attention back to the radio.

The narration of the newspaper is generic, and you discover that the audience has been closed off to the reporters.

You take a deep breath, concentrating.

No strange feeling, so Wanda is safe.

You wonder if Erik and Pietro are by her side during the whole thing.

It is only at the end of lunchtime that you have the result.

"It's amazing how things unfold in the ministry this afternoon." Counted the reporter with almost excitement. "After a unanimous vote, the witch Wanda Maximoff was found guilty of endangering her fellow students by not registering as a scarlet witch to the ministry of magic, after it was proven that her father, the sorcerer Erik Lehnsherr knew of her condition, as well as the affiliation with the criminal, Agatha Harkness was also mentioned. The ministry finally decided on Wanda Maximoff's expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding"

You felt your stomach plummet.

And everything became a little muffled around you, a soft whistle in your ear. You think Gamora and Nebula were calling for you, but you were getting up, feeling the room getting too small.

Stumbling out, you loosened the knot of your tie, finally stopping in the courtyard as you leaned your body against a pillar.

Wanda had been expelled from Hogwarts, publicly exposed as a Scarlet Witch, and tried as a criminal. You wondered if they would break her wand. Banned wizards led horrible lives.

Your sisters and friends caught up with you quickly, and you let them hug you.

In a few minutes Director Strange is catching up with you as well, and you release Gamora's grip to talk to him.

"Professor, I need to..."

"You cannot leave Hogwarts, Miss Stark." He interrupts with a wave of his hands and you frown in confusion, ready to protest but he is already speaking. "Tony sent a patronus as soon as the results came out, he already figured you'd want to see Miss Maximoff. The ministry is a mess, and Wanda will be staying with her father there for the minister's final decisions. You should stay here, where you are safe."

"That's not fair!" You squawk angrily. "Wanda needs me, I must-"

"She needs you to be safe." He interrupts again seriously, and then lowers his tone slightly as he notices the curious looks of the surrounding students. "Be rational, Miss Stark. Now that the Wizarding community knows the nature of Wanda's powers, how long before Mephisto has enough information and discovers your identity as protector."

You swallow dryly, clenching your fists begrudgingly. Stephen is right. You look away, and he sighs, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"Wanda will be fine, even without her NEWTS, she is an extraordinary witch." He says. "And the year is coming to an end, soon you will be able to see her again."

"She needs me now." You grumble annoyed, turning away from the professor's touch. He looks at you for a moment and then clears his throat.

"I'll see what I can do, Miss Stark." He says."In the meantime, focus on your studies, and be careful."

You frown at Stephen's words, but he is already turning and leaving before you can ask.

As you turn to your friends, Gamora has a worried look on her face.

"Are you okay?" She asks, and you sigh, agreeing to hug her again as you mumble no.

"I can feel how upset she is, Gamora." You grumble against your sister's shirt, wishing you could hug Wanda now. Gamora squeezes you against her arms, and you thank her for her intention even if it isn't enough.

The next few days are like a blur for you.

Many letters arrive, as do many editions of the Daily Prophet.

When the picture of the day Wanda's wand was broken comes out on the front page and you see her tired face, you have to run out of the common room to keep from crying in front of your colleagues.

Everyone writes to you, even Carol, everyone but the Maximoffs.

It is frustrating, and honestly, it breaks your heart in many ways.

The news of a Scarlet Witch after a century is almost as bombastic as Mephisto's return, and you're not surprised that many of your colleagues would start to comment on the possibility of Wanda working with him or against him.

It's overwhelming how everyone talks about her, but all you can feel is how much you miss her around the castle, around you.

You couldn't even remember that your magic is stable, and with everything that has happened, you haven't had time to figure out how to fix things.

Stephen tried to help, but he didn't know what was going on. At least the theoretical part of magic you were able to master, and you hoped to get at least an acceptable score in some subjects.

Only almost a week and a half after the trial, Professor Strange interrupts the potions class to talk to you.

Ignoring the curious stares and whispers of your classmates, you ask Professor Munroe to excuse you, and leave the room.

"What is wrong, professor?" You ask curiously as you close the door, watching Stephen with his hands in his pockets.The dungeons feel emptier without the ministry aurors around the castle.

"Saturday, in the Astronomy tower, nine-thirteen at night." He says as he hands you a small gold key, causing you to frown in confusion. "You will have exactly one hour, Miss Stark. Not a second more."

You stare at the object in your hand, and understand. A portal key. To Wanda.

"Thank you, Professor." You say, and Stephen nods before leaving.

You turn back to potions, the object in your pocket. You could barely contain your anxiety.

//-//-//-//-//-//-//

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight || @iliketozoneout || @blackwow34 // @tiny--freak || @spongebobtentacles || @cyberbonesworld ||

A/F/N> Place your bets for my next comeback (a week, a month or tomorrow?). If I delete the blog, and you're in love with this story for some reason I don't know about because there are so many better things to read, know that I'll post everything on AO3 if I ever do.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #scarlet witch x reader #marvel imagines #The Scarlet Witch Prophecy #elizabeth olsen x reader #harry potter au

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lovely-jily · 3 years ago

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almost caught

something for @jilytoberfest! prompt: "if we get caught-" "i'll make it worth your while, i promise."

i wrote this quickly and didn't revise it a ton, but im just excited to contribute for jilytober!!! hope you lovely's like:)

"Okay, James. I'm going to be completely frank here- and I wholeheartedly mean every word when I say this- this is perhaps the stupidest idea you've ever had- and you've had loads of stupid idea's."

"Oh, come on. Try to have some faith in me," James whispered back, opening one of the drawers of the desk. They were in the Ravenclaw Prefect's office. James had suspected that the Prefects were somehow involved with their Quidditch team cheating by using weighted and magic-infused balls. The only evidence he had to back his theory up was a "gut feeling" and the fact that the bludgers seemed to target the other team more often, which Lily chalked up to confirmation bias. While she disagreed with cheating, she figured a better idea was to talk to their Prefects, not snoop through their office.

"Famous last words," Lily rolled her eyes, "I can't believe that I let you drag me into this. If we get caught-"

"I'll make it worth your while, I promise," The boy reassured her as he looked up at Lily, messy dark curls hanging in front of his eyes. He had finished looking in the first drawer and moved to the one below it, quickly searching. Lily wasn't sure what he meant by that, "Besides, we won't get caught. Now, are you going to start searching, or are you going to make me do all the work like usual?"

"Like usual? Excuse me?" Lily said. She was standing in front of him, hands firmly planted on her hips disapprovingly before turning to the cabinets. Besides breaking his collarbone last night in a quidditch game (Which Madam Pomfrey fixed just fine, and if he followed her instructions, he'd be totally healed in days), the year was going swimmingly for James and Lily. She enjoyed working with him as Heads and was seeing real change in him. He was no longer a bully, and in fact, he always shut that sort of thing down.

"I don't even know what I'm looking for."

James just chuckled as he closed the second drawer, kneeling to search the third drawer, "Probably anything quidditch related."

"You've got the wrong person for this," Lily sighed. That was probably true. She knew nothing of sports- both muggle and wizard alike. She turned to the cabinets on the far wall, which was full of books, mostly student records, and smelled musty.

"You know, this would be so much easier if you just agreed to use the cloak with me," James commented as he stood up and brushed off his pants. Lily had grown to like him over the past few months and didn't mind working with him as co-Heads. He was kind, responsible, and enthusiastic enough that almost everyone adored him- even Lily. She was even starting to get butterflies around him, something she never thought could happen.

"I'm never going under that damn cloak with you," Lily said as she took out a book of student records. She dusted it off and then put it back where she found it.

"Never is a strong word," James said as he walked over to the wardrobe. He opened it up and stepped inside, pressing against the back of it to see if any secret openings were on the back wall.

"I know," Lily said, following him and standing behind him, "That's why I said it."

That's when they heard the door handle jiggle, indicating that someone was trying to come in.

Lily, panicking, looked up at James. He quickly grabbed her by her waist and lifted her into the broom closet, quietly slamming the door. One hand was on her waist, the other over her mouth to try and keep her quiet. He gently took it off and put it behind her head. One hand was still on her waist as he tangled his other in her hair.

Fucking hell, he was hot.

Lily's hands were holding tightly at the bottom hem of her skirt. She knew that if she didn't plant them there, they'd undoubtedly find themselves tangled in James's dark locks.

"Maybe you were right about that cloak," Lily whispered as they were both breathing heavily and pressed up against each other. She wondered if he could feel how hard her heart was beating. She wasn't sure if that was from fear of getting caught or being so close to James.

James just brought his finger back to her lips and shushed her softly. His breath was softly blowing on her bangs, which caused them to tickle her forehead. All Lily could do was look up at him, remembering what was going on outside the cabinet, hearing the door open. He then anxiously looked out through the crack of the wooden doors, trying to watch whoever she heard come in. Lily tried to ignore the way he was clenching his jaw. She noticed that was a sort of nervous tick of his, something that he did when anxious. One hand was still on her waist, the other resting on her hair on the nape of her neck.

Why was she caring more about James's hands on her than she did at the idea of getting caught?

"Weird, I swore I heard voices," Sabrina Wood, the sixth year Prefect, said.

"So did I," Robert Thomas responded.

James, seeming to spot something above Lily's head, quickly reached his hand up. However, he never got to inspect what he wanted to. Lily heard the sound of his collarbone crack, implying that it was rebroken. While Madam Pomfrey had patched him up just fine, she said he needed to refrain from sudden movements of reaching above his head. Lily now realized this was why.

James leaned forward and grimaced in pain. Still on Lily's neck, his hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled at it slightly.

"Fuck," He groaned quietly in Lily's ear, and she felt his hot breath against her ear and neck. Her eyes widened at how attractive that word was coming from his lips, silently cursing herself at the sinful thoughts that flashed in her mind.

The sound of footsteps walking around the office brought Lily back to the current reality. She looked above her see his arm clenched in a fist. He was in a lot of pain.

Wordlessly, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at his broken collarbone. She had practised nonverbal spells a number of times, although never this one. She wasn't sure if she'd ever done this one on a human before.

The footsteps were walking towards the wardrobe and she looked at James. He had relaxed his grip on Lily's hair (much to her disappointment) and moved it to her waist. He nodded slightly, giving her permission to try.

She wordlessly performed the healing charm. James gripped at her shirt in response to the painful snap of bone back in place, just as they heard Robert say something about how they needed to get back to their rounds. They heard the two leave and the door close, listening to the charm the Prefects performed to lock the door. Once they determined they were alone, James let out another groan as he brought his hand down from above Lily's head.

"Good girl," He exhaled as he melted into her, and Lily's eyes widened again. That should not make her feel the way it did, but regardless her toes crinkled and she tightened her grip on her wand.

"You alright?" She asked sheepishly, trying to relax. She was feeling bashful and disappointed that they now had to exit the wardrobe.

James, slightly sweaty from the pain, nodded and raised his other arm to what he wanted to look at earlier. He pressed against the wall, and a hidden drawer slightly popped out. He reached his hand in and pulled out a piece of parchment from inside it.

"Lumos," he said, still breathing heavily. The room lit up, and Lily looked at James, light reflecting on his glasses. He was looking so damn good, skin sticky and lips soft. She fought against the image of something else that could make James groan, sweat, and breathe heavily.

They both looked at the parchment, and written in neat handwriting was "For those who forget, use wingardium leviosa to control replaced quaffles."

James looked up at Lily, a victorious smirk on his face, which Lily couldn't help but smile at.

"God damn it," Lily said, annoyed that he was but also influenced by his contagious smile, "You actually were right."

"We did it, Evans," James said excitedly, putting his hands on her face and shaking it with enthusiasm.

Lily laughed, blushing at his hand placement, "For Ravenclaws, they really are thick. That was way too easy to find."

James shrugged and dropped his hands, "I don't really care too much. We'll take this right to McGonagall. She'll sort this whole thing out."

Lily nodded as he opened the wardrobe door, feeling the cooler air hit their skin. She blinked at the sudden brightness as he helped her out.

"I can't believe you could do that spell so well, and wordlessly too! You never fail to astonish me with your brilliance," James ruffled her hair with his empty hand and pocketed the parchment with his other.

Lily, blushing harder, smiled at him, "Says the idiot who rebroke his collarbone."

"True," James just laughed, putting his hand on Lily's back to push her forward. He then put both hands on her shoulder and shook them back and forth as he guided her out of the door of the office and down the corridor, "What would I do without you, Evans? My saviour."

Lily just laughed as she shrugged off his hands, playfully pushing him. She looked up at him, his hands clasped behind his back and glasses peering down at her.

"Probably walk around with a broken collarbone."

"Of course," He looked forward, "I've got a question for you, Miss Evans."

Lily's stomach lurched at that statement, and she bit her lip in anticipation, "Yes?"

He stepped in front of her, stopping her. His hands were still behind his back, and he looked down at her. They were nearly as close as they were in the wardrobe.

"Did you think about kissing me in that wardrobe?"

Shit. Fuck. How did he know??

Her stomach dropped, and while she was taken back from the question, but decided she wasn't too mad about it. So they were doing this now?

Lily, full of panic and anxiety, was determined to remain as calm and collected on the outside as she could. She smirked and tilted her head flirtatiously.

"Maybe. What's it to you?"

James smirked back and stepped back to Lily's side as they started to walk again, "Why didn't you?"

"For starters," Lily said, deciding to remain confident, started to lie, "You had a broken bone and seemed to be in a decent amount of pain."

James scoffed sarcastically, "I don't know what you're talking about. Didn't hurt at all."

"Ah, of course, it didn't," Lily looked at her feet as they walked as she remembered the way that he grabbed at her hair and his tone when he whispered "Fuck" in her ear. She got chills again.

They were heading to McGonagall's office. She wasn't sure how James would explain how he obtained the evidence to McGonagall, but she wasn't thinking about that too much at that point. They were talking about kissing, something much more compelling and appealing to Lily.

"Regardless, and back to the more important thing at hand," He smirked at her as he leaned to whisper in her ear, sending chills up Lily's spine, "Perhaps we can get stuck in another wardrobe soon- and don't hold back next time. I still have to make it up to you for nearly getting caught."

#jily fanfic #jily fanfiction #james potter #james x lily #jily fandom #marauders #jily fic #jilytober #jilytober fest #jilytober 2021 #mauraders era #jily fan fiction #jily #jily tension #tension #lily evans x james potter #james & peter & remus & sirius

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mochii0park · 3 years ago

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metanoia; 01 | kth

Title: Metanoia

Pairing: Taehyung / Reader

Part of series: Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge

Genre: angst I collage!au

Pairing: student!reader x photographer!taeyhung

Word count: 4,7k

Summary: Vante, a household name among photographers became known for his minimalistic photography style that came along with his secret persona. Never showing his face on his own exhibitions fueled the public’s desire to learn more about him which skyrocketed his fame. While preparing for his next exhibition Vante went missing. Disappeared into thin air and even now a year later was never found.

Author’s note: I am very conscious of any grammar mistakes. Although I have read this chapter three times I am sure I’ve missed some so bare with me.

On another note, I have switched the dates of the chapters for Saudade and Metanoia. Since this story got more attention compared to Sauade I’ve decided to write it before the date.

This is my first attempt at writing on this platform and I hope it will reach out to a wider range of readers and catch your interest. Any feedback is greatly appreciated.

Taglist: @ggukkieland @honig-und-millch , @deliciousdetectivestranger ,

Masterlist

Metanoia masterlist

< intro | next chapter >

You sink into the overaged draggled yellow chair, catching second-hand embarrassment at the sight before you. The boy walked about, his thrusts were not enough to keep the neon hula hoop from falling. He attempts to fumble his way out of the mess, but it was too late. The left ankle twists itself and before you know it, he hits headfirst against the wooden flooring. The professors rush towards him, medics following behind. The boy tries to pull himself up but fails his body slumping against the stage. To your left Mingi snorts, stuffing his face with popcorn amused by the scene playing out.

“I don’t mean to sound rude or whatever, but people need to search up the meaning of talent before their eyes skip to the word show.” Minnie ruckles her nose, her mouth loop sided.

“I find this highly entertaining,” Mingi speaks up, mouth full of food. He takes a sip of the cold beverage rested in his lap and shakes the mixture before swallowing.

To his left Yeonjun shudders at him, “Talent or not I would rather replay that scene than watch Mingi be a slob. It makes me want to bleach my eyes out.”

Mingi rolls his eyes ignoring Yeonjun as he pops more popcorn, oblivious to his own weird antics. Although the four of you are friends for years, Mingi managed to take you all by surprise with his uncanny behaviour.

The second act starts and suddenly you contemplate your university choice. Reasonably the overbearing staff of your university wanted the timid first years to feel welcomed hence this so-called show. In hindsight, you think a friendly party would’ve been just as good.

Halfway through the act, you feel a light tap on your shoulders, professor Kim Namjoon stands there like a sore thumb in the mass of students’ bodies. With his hovering height, freshly dyed purple hair and the rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose he was sure to stand out. He shifts his footing from one to the other foot anxiously waiting for you to follow him, few students commenting on the disruptions that his appearance caused.

You observe him for a second, accompanying him out of the theatre into the cold November air. He fumbles through his leather briefcase before fishing out a small, crumpled flyer. Opening it he shoves it into your hands while tweaking his glasses.

“I have a favour to ask you Y/N. There will be a course taking place here and I would love for you to attend it with your peculiar friends.” He says emphasising the word peculiar.

You knew that Mingi gave Namjoon the creeps even though the latter denied it.

“No.”

You push back the flyer spinning on the balls of your feet ready to join your friends.

“Y/L-…”, Namjoon groans, “Do it for your brother-in-law.”

Widening your eyes, you look at him shaking your head.” This isn’t the time to use our family relations to bribe me into a stupid course.”

“Did you even read what’s it about?”, you take the flyer from his hands skimming through it.

Photography course

Length: 10th November till 10th June

Time: Friday, 6pm -8pm

Attendance: Third years and above

Equipment not needed for the course

Your eyes pause at the date, laughing releasing itself from your chest. Surely Namjoon was kidding when suggesting this. You were in your last year which meant you would soon be flooded with work for your final project. In conclusion, there was barely enough time for you set foot out of your studies let alone attend another one of the university’s poor attempts to make a course for students to bond over.

“You understand I’m in my last year. I don’t have time to go out and have fun with my friends. How in the world did you think I would fit a whole-ass course?”

Namjoon releases a breath running a hand through his thick hair, desperation evident on his face.” I am sorry to have to do this, but I am cashing in my favour.”

You become stiff mouth agape, incoherent vowels coming out of you. It takes you a few seconds to gather your thoughts, “you promised to not cash it in. You gave me your word.”

“And you gave me yours.” Namjoon retored sassily, finger pointing at you, “I won’t tell Sunmi if you promise to do me a favour when the time comes.”

Pushing your tongue against the palate, you try to control the boiling anger.

The incident happened four years ago, back when you were still figuring out your college life. Namjoon and you were acquaintances, sharing one elective course called German Literature. Needless to say, both of you suffered greatly.

By the end of the year, you noticed your sister piqued Namjoon’s interest. Grossed out by the idea of your older sister engaging in any kind of relationship/activity with a twenty-three-year-old, you kept your distance until the faithful day.

Choi San was the synonym for the devil himself. With his fiery red hair and dazzling cat-like eyes, he lured you into his messy life of illegal parties and binge drinking. You still find yourself cringing at his pathetic excuses of professing his undying love to you when it was all under false pretences. His eyes bearing into your naïve soul, pulling your heart out and wrenching it until your friends came to pick up the pieces.

Sitting in the police station you counted down minutes before your older sister would burst through the door and finally decide to disown you. With your head nested between your knees you suck in the tears threatening to spill, the euphoria from the alcohol long gone. You’ve dialled Mingi’s number first, the others were a no go when it came to answering their phones. He picked up in a matter of seconds. After explaining the situation, you figured he would bring his own parents to bail you out instead Namjoon comes first, after him a stressed Minnie trying to keep up the pace with him and a Yeonjun who’s pulling his masks further over his nose in a lame attempt to be unrecognizable. Mingi idly meanders behind them in his pyjamas with not one care in the world. Namjoon pulls a small amount of money handing the police officer and not long after you were free.

At that moment you’ve truly recognized your friends as the people you wanted to keep in your life forever. Namjoon jokingly said he would someday cash in his favour. Little did you know the joke would get over your head.

“You’ve waited for four years to cash it?”

He shrugs and nods lightly. Quickly he composes himself, washing his features of playfulness and switching them up with hopelessness. “It’s really important for me that you and your clique of friends attend this course. Professor Seojoon organized it-“

At the mention of your favourite professor, your eyes light up making Namjoon shudders. The little “crush” you harboured didn’t go unnoticed by him. Putting his hands on your shoulders he gains your attention again before continuing, “his brother is the one to hold the course so you must come. I will put in a good word for you all. Maybe he will go easy on you during quizzes.”

You roll your eyes knowing fully well that you didn’t need Namjoon’s intervention although it was greatly appreciated. Putting the flyer in your back pocket you throw a thumbs up to Namjoon, “Well Minnie and I don’t need any favouritism and I am almost certain you can’t do much for Yeonjun and Mingi seeing as they are in different departments.”

“Oh?” Namjoon’s brows shot up at the revelation, totally dismissing the idea that you know each other any differently than through the classes you attend, “I thought Yeonjun was in the literature department, as for Mingi it’s far-fetched but I didn’t want to sound rude.”

“Actually, Yeonjun is in the Vocal department while Mingi is in the Physics and Astronomy department. He’s also on top of his class, both are.”

Namjoon seems stunned at the information you threw at him, but he recovers swiftly, “Bunch of nerds.” He chuckles at his own jokes before both of you bid goodbyes. You slowly make your way to the cafeteria mind set on pursuing your friends to join you and Namjoon running to the staff meeting hoping to extinguish the chaos caused by the talent show.

Pushing past the mass of people on the campus your sneakers squeak against the pavement, the chatter between the students becoming louder as you push the cafeteria doors. Making your way towards the table in the further left corner you spot Yeonjun’s eye-catching hair. The pink shade fits well against his pale skin making him noticeable from afar. The boy throws a piece of chips at Mingi, the latter catching it mid-air.

The rustling of your chair brings them out of their bubble. Minnie plops her elbows on the table, hand supporting her cheek as she lays it there, eyes staring at you amusingly. Mingi continues to catch Yeonjun’s chips, his attention now slightly focused on you. “How was the talk with professor Namjoon.”

“I need a favour to ask you.”

“Last time you asked for a favour we had to bail you from jail,” Mingi adds face void of any emotion causing Yeonjun to almost choke on the piece of chicken from his plate. Minnie reaches for his head hitting him hard on the back.

“That was four years ago for God’s sake.” You yell, a few students turning bothered by your loud voice disrupting their meal.

Slumping further into the seat, cheeks reddened from the heat of the sudden attention you gained you say quietly, “there is a course taking place this year and I would love if you could attend it.”

Mingi was the first to read the flyer once you push it in the middle of the old table. He hums a couple of times and gives you a thumbs up, unlike Minnie who scoffs.

“A whole semester? Y/N you know this is impossible to juggle this with our final project. As much as I would love to participate you know what you’re asking for is too much.”

You bite your lower lip remembering Namjoon’s words. “I know but professor Seojoon is organizing it, and don’t you think having him on our good side would mean a lot?”

Minnie shrugs and pops the strawberry into her mouth. “I understand, but it’s on Fridays. The only time I can spare for parties and clubs, and you’re asking me to spend it studying something I am not even remotely interested in?”

You turn towards Yeonjun knowing if he agrees Minnie will crumble under the pressure of your group. He scans it quickly and shakes his lightly head from left to right before agreeing to accompany you making Minnie collapse her shoulders in defeat.

“Fine but if it takes too much of my time I am signing out.”

“I love you guys so much.”

“Cut it with the sappy shit, I have piano lessons.” Yeonjun gets up telling you goodbye before he disappears in the ocean of students his pink hair no longer visible. A distant scream could be heard a few seconds after, “I love you too.”

You smile feeling the love of your friends.

“We love you too.” Mingi gets up and places a carton of freshly squeezed apple juice in front of you sending off a small smile. Just like Yeonjun, he’s gone.

Nose buried deep into the book; Taehyung tried his best to mute out his brother’s lame attempts of starting a conversation he never intended to finish. Legs resting on the polished marble table he did his very best to further fuel Seojoon’s irritation. The older one pacing back and forwards provoking Taehyung’s headache.

“If you would just listen to me.”

Kim Taehyung detested surprise, especially those he didn’t catch on early. This one though topped the cake. “There is no need to listen.”

“Quit being stubborn.”

“Oh, the irony.” Taehyung looked up catching his brother’s burning gaze,” contrary to your beliefs, I must say you are the one who’s stubborn here. When a person asks for space and time you give them that instead of forcing them, wait sorry what was the word again? Yeah, lightly pushing them into holding a course. One which they never asked for or showed the desire to hold.”

“You needed a little push in the right direction.”

“Arranging a one-year course isn’t a push you idiot,” Taehyung shouted; the book was long forgotten and tossed aside on his couch. His yell echoed in the empty room causing Seojoon’s to scowl. He found comfort in a small armchair adjacent to the marble table. “You can’t bury yourself in books and spend your days in the atelier. It’s not healthy Taehyung.”

“I don’t remember asking for advice.”

Seojoon was on the verge of giving up, letting the course get cancelled before it even happened hadn’t it been for the twelve people that signed up and Namjoon’s effort to recruit them.

“Look-“he takes a deep breath calming himself, “You can think of it as a one year course, but in reality, it’s eight months. When you count Christmas, New Year, Easter you can cut one month coming to seven months in total. I’ve gone all out for this course, please don’t make me go and explain to my higher-ups why it’s cancelled before it even started.”

Taehyung shut his eyes trying not to feed the growing frustration inside him. Seojoon takes the time to look at his brother, the embodiment of pain. The eyes that used to shine brightly at the sight of new opportunities were now dull and empty, almost as if his soul left the body. It tore him apart to see Taehyung like that, powerless and what added more to his pain was the inability to help him.

“It’s been a year since I’ve held a class.”

“I know you Taehyung. You are a man of many talents and there is nothing that can convince me otherwise. You need to move forward and face the fear you’ve been holding onto. It’s been a year. Nobody will judge you.” Seojoon’s eyes soften as he walks up to his brother ruffling his hair, hoping that his sincerity got through to him.

“I don’t know Joon.”

Before Seojoon could even start talking Taehyung shakes his head and moves hurriedly reaching for the knob. Seojoon takes a step towards Taehyung, but he doesn’t even give him a chance to speak as he runs right out of the door leaving him alone in the atelier.

The water drips from Taehyung’s wet hair down his face creating a false comfort, the sound of water coated a perfect cover to hide his emotional baggage. It became a habit of his to seek solace in the bathtub surrounded by lavender soaps that Yuna bought. A tradition carried on from their mother to them. The scent took Taehyung back into his childhood spent in his family home in Busan. Carefree of responsibilities and the heavy burden the world carried.

He recalls the delicate touch of his mother’s fingers untangling his locks while singing Elvis’s song can’t help falling in love. Her voice heartening Taehyung as he wept over a dispute he had with his second brother Hyungsik. The vivid memory of his mother placing a kiss on the crown of his head before wiping away the tears from his cheeks.

“Siblings are there to teach you about life,” she whispers softly, “They teach you what it means to be kind, to be fair and to know you will not always be right. They teach you about teamwork, conflict resolution and most importantly Tae they teach you what it is to love and to be loved.”

Opening the door of Seojoon’s study, Taehyung is greeted with a sight to behold. Leaning against the door frame he watches Yuna and Hyungsik dancing in the middle of the muddled room, furniture pushed aside to create more room. They attempted to follow Yuna’s new choreography, Seojoon’s seated in the leather armchair grading assignments although he would glance up occasionally laughing at the duo. More like laugh at Hyungsik’s failed attempts but he didn’t need to know that. Noticing Taehyung’s presence, Yuna runs over linking their arms and pulls him forward oblivious to the slight tension between him and Seojoon.

“Idol my ass, “she scoffs at a gasping Hyungsik, “Taehyungie I need a dance partner for my new choreography. Hyungsik can’t even learn the basics.”

“Not my fault the younger generation goes overboard with their dances and outfits and singing. In my time we relied on our charms, and not how you call it? Fairy ending? What is even that?”

“It’s when idols finish the song, and the camera pans on of them giving them some more love and screen time. Right?” Taehyung looks at Yuna for approval. She places Taehyung’s hand over her shoulder, linking her arms around his waist while he kisses her temple and puts his cheek on top of her head.

“Admit it you’ve gotten old Hyungsik.” Seojoon derides.

That was enough to motivate Hyungsik to crack his fingers and reach for the tablet, “Give me the goddamn tablet. I’ll show you who’s old.” burying his nose into the gadget, he replays the video repeatedly.

By the time he made it through the first segment of the dance, Taehyung was sure he could blindly replicate the choreography himself.

“Couldn’t you ask one of your professors or other idols in training to help you?” Taehyung asks as the two observe Hyungsik’s rusty moves.

“One friend is busy finishing school projects and Jungkook-a has too many events lined up to help. I haven’t seen him since last Friday and I don’t feel comfortable asking Jimin-ssi to practice with me.”

“Isn’t he your professor?”

“Yes and no. He helps the idols which have already debuted in our entertainment company, that’s Jungkook. Jimin-ssi does occasionally step in when other professors are prevented from teaching. But his job is being a full-time professor at the EQ Royal Dance Academy.”

Taehyung nods, the information flying over his head as Hyungsik messes up a move and topples to the floor. He erupts into fits of laugher for the first time in weeks and Seojoon is suddenly reminded what’s it like to be happy. He knew bringing Yuna home for the weekend would do Taehyung some good. The sight warms his heart, his siblings bickering loudly, breathing some life into the old room. Resting the assignments on the nearby table, he sits up to join them. Catching Taehyung’s gaze he looks towards the boy, brows raised.

“I’ve thought about it and-” Taehyung stops for a second, but Seojoon’s soft gaze prompts him to continue. “I’ll take the job.”

“Well, you better get ready because it starts in two hours.”

“What?!”

There were many ways you could spend your Friday night, like partying for instance yet here you are sitting in your car listening to Minnie whining. Mingi’s soul stuck somewhere on his iPod the second he set foot in the car, his head bobbing to the music blasting from his AirPods. Yeonjon was the only one not present. Due to his idol actives, he was held back by his vocal coach, but he promised to be there for the second lecture.

Placing your analogue camera on the desk, you tug your hair into a ponytail mentally preparing yourself for two hours of dullness. Minnie sits to your right while Mingi takes the chair to your left. The three of you seating yourselves in the front of the classroom, Namjoon’s words bunch of nerds playing in your head.

Shaking the thought away you see the watch tick eight pm as the door swings open.

When Namjoon told you professor Seojoon’s brother would hold the course you had expected a man either older than him or somewhere around his age, not a handsome make you take a double look type of a man; two or three years older than you.

His features were nothing short of a Greek god. He stood head and shoulders over you even when you were seated, confidence radiating from every fibre of his being as adjusts his bag over his shoulder. Pushing his brown curls away from his face he allows you to look at it. Perhaps you were exaggerating but you never saw such a gorgeous man. Straightening himself up you take notice of his attire for tonight’s lecture. An orange blazer draped over a white shirt brought out his sun-kissed complexion paired with the same-coloured trousers. A type of anonymity laced itself with every step he took in your direction, his stare a mixture of coldness and determination.

He comes forward, eyes scanning each one of you before he sets his gaze on you. It lingers there for a second, his expression unreadable before he breaks it.

“Hello, my name is Kim Taehyung and I’ll be your lecturer for this course.”

For the first time, you see Mingi’s focus entirely on Taehyung. His presence demanded to be felt and a part of you was sure he knew it. Taking the camera in his hand he turns towards you.

“I assume you have at least once taken a photo, whether with your phones or camera. Moreover, I am positive you have attempted to make an aesthetic photo for your Instagram feed. How many of you were successful?” laughter filled the lecture hall,” The goal of this lecture isn’t to make a photographer out of you nor to help you improve your skills. The point is to make you fall in love with photography. The rest will come easy.”

He walks around the desk and opens an old leather binder. Walking towards your table he places it in front of Mingi allowing the three of you to peek at the content of it. There neatly stored in a plastic sheet were his photos. Mingi pushes the portfolio in front of you, allowing easier access to both Minnie and you. Slowly leafing through the pictures, you stop in total awe. Eyes trailing over a simple photo of a ray field, caught somewhere in later November or early December judging by the snow. The contrast was striking, the clash of the colours and the depth of field creating an imaginary line between the ray and the sky.

Taehyung observes your dumbfounded expression, intrigued by your sudden amazement he ambles to your side. He rakes over the photo, which was a thereby sheer mistake, panic rushing through him. In a reckless attempt to stop you from further prying into the photos he grasps the portfolio out of your hold knocking over your camera in the process. It hits the floor shattering the lens into pieces, the film rolling down until it stops near his feet. Cursing himself for his abrupt action, he looks at you. Your eyes drift from the broken camera to Taehyung’s face.

He hurriedly squats picking the pieces, analysing the damage. Beyond repair.

“I am so sorry. I-” he says placing the parts on your table trying to come up with more words of apology.

“It’s alright.” You shuffle awkwardly in your seat not liking the spotlight put on you.

“I’ll be sure to repay you the coasts of a new camera.”

You shake your head; the camera was already outdated, and you were sure Sunmi would let you borrow her digital one from the gallery. “It’s fine.”

Taehyung puts his lips into a thin line, the confidence he marched beginning to leave his body. Although you showed no anger or resentment towards him, he still felt the need to apologize. Swallowing the awkward moment, he paces towards the centre.

“Today we will start with simple terms such as ISO, Aperture and Shutter speed. Three things you should get familiar with.”

Fetching his Nikon camera from the case he turns it around. Swirling the button on the upper part of the camera he adjusts the mode to manual. Pushing another button towards himself the camera shows three circles in the middle of the screen.

“The first circle is shutter speed. That’s the speed at which the light of a camera sensor is exposed to light when taking a photo. Slow shutter speed captures the blur of subjects in motion. It’s valuable for night and landscape photography. On the other hand, high speed allows you to freeze a single millisecond in time.”

Pointing to the middle circle he continues. “This is an aperture, the opening through which light passes through the lens to enter the camera. Its size can be modified to control how much light reaches the sensor.”

Lastly, he shows you the third button. “ISO represents the sensor’s sensitivity to the light. The higher the number, the more information will be captured in other words the picture will be brighter.”

Taehyung fumbles with the camera for a few seconds before he focuses it on you and with a click and shutter of light, he takes your photo. With no time to recover you feel a blush creep at the thought of how the picture turned out. “As you can see this is the perfect setting for the indoor portrait. Now if we put the shutter speed high and the ISO low-“

He again takes a picture of you turning the camera screen to the students. The photo was dark, your features barely visible but still your figure could be distinguished. “This is an underexposed photo. Now if we set the shutter speed to let’s say 1/40 and places the ISO high-“

Expecting his move this time, you look up at the camera. Taehyung halts his action for a slight second before he presses the button. Looking at the photo, the brightness is overbearing. “This is an overexposed photo.”

He places the camera in front of Mingi, Minnie and you allowing you to take your time and compare the three photos he took. “Why am I showing you this? Because for your next assignment that’s what you will do. You will take three photos of the same object. The object you choose should be something that left a great impact on you. That can be your family, your friends or an inanimate object such as phones, books etc. The choice is yours.”

Pulling out stacks of paper he leaves them on the corner of his desk.” These here are today’s study notes. I don’t expect you to write down notes while in the class, but I do expect you to finish your assignments. That will be all for today.”

The students began leaving the room each taking one paper, Taehyung stood there, hands in his pocket looking through every pupil that passed by. Minnie was first in line, her flirt mode on. You see them exchange a few words, Minnie’s behaviour suddenly going from sweet to sour in seconds. You dally your way to the desk aware of his gaze burning holes in the side of your head.

“Sorry, Y/N was it?” You peek up not expecting him to spare you a second let alone address you.

“Yeah?”

Taehyung scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.” I am sorry for what happened to your camera. I know you said it’s fine, but I feel responsible for it. I would feel better if you let me repay you by buying a new camera or at least participating in the coasts.”

“No, really it’s fine.” You laugh as you say it for the fourth time today.” I will borrow my sister’s camera for the course. If I do find myself in a need to buy a new camera, I will let you know.”

Before Taeyhung could protest you nod politely and leave the room. Biting his lip, he couldn’t help to feel bad about the wreck he made knowing full well how much an analogue camera costs nowadays. Taking the Nikon one from your table he swipes through the photos deleting each one before he pauses on the last one. It was the first black and white photo he took of you.

Your eyes were focused on Taehyung, although taken aback by the light they held their composure your mouth pulled into an affiliative smile. The white light made your baby hair stand out in the black background. For an unexplained reason, Taehyung felt a small tug, one he couldn’t pinpoint the meaning of. Shutting off his camera, he exhales through his nose and throws the bag over his shoulder.

The first lecture was done, thirty-three to go.

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crazy-sevens · 4 years ago

Note

Heyo, I wasn’t sure eid you took requests, but if you do could you do a part two to “An Excuse to make Christmas Jokes”

This was a long time coming but hope you like it!

Part one here

***

The hero had never felt more humiliated in their entire life. Not when their voice cracked at an eighth grade talent show. Not when they tripped into the punchbowl at prom. Not even when they had to dress up in a pink rabbit costume for Halloween at fifteen because their parents made them match with their little sister. At least there weren’t any witnesses to their embarrassment this time.

The hero sat tied up in a red ribbon, gagged, and sitting under a Christmas tree. The flush in their face being almost the exact same shade of red as the ribbon.

The villain had been gone for about ten minutes. And the hero knew that because there was a clock on the wall. Weird for what was basically a prison cell, but the room where they were sitting in was actually a really nice living room.

Great. That made them feel so much better about this.

They looked up at the Christmas tree as the ornaments glinted in the light. Soon enough the villain would be back bringing whatever torture device that they called the hero’s Christmas present. The hero would have to be gone before then. Gone with what they had come here for.

But no matter what they couldn’t think around this. The ribbon was tight, binging their arms and legs together so they could barely move. They couldn’t use their powers with the gag on their mouth and nobody around to use them on. And there were dozens of guards out there, so they wouldn’t even make it out, let alone with the device.

The hero closed their eyes and leaned against the tree. The ornaments clattered together with a soft clink. They were made of glass. At least the villain had some taste.

Wait. Glass.

The hero scooted themselves around and kicked the tree over. They winced at the sound of the ornaments shattering, but they couldn’t worry about the noise right then. They flexed their fingers and grabbed a shard from the wreckage. It was a little difficult but they managed to cut through the ribbon with the shard. They then tore the gag off.

They felt in their sleeve and breathed a sigh of relief when they found it; the one thing the villain’s guards hadn’t taken from them- a hairpin. They picked the lock quickly.

They smirked. Sometimes they were so good it was frightening.

And on that note, they tripped on their way out.

Nevermind.

Before they could pick themselves up, a boot pressed against the small of their back. “What do we have here?”

The hero reached out with their power. “Hey get off of me!”

The boot’s pressure lessened, but that was about it. Of course it wouldn’t work that easily. “And why should I do that?”

“Um, because,” the hero scrambled for a convincing story, “because you’re unsatisfied with your boss and you want them to respect you more,” they blurted out. “I can help you.” They hoped they had struck the right cord. When trying to convince someone to do something, it helped to give them a good reason to. The power enhanced those feelings and moved the person to act. The hero could only hope that the guard was unsatisfied with his boss. How that fact might relate to letting the hero go, they weren’t sure. Maybe they would actually believe the hero could help.

Who knows? This wasn’t their best work anyway.

But it actually seemed to be working. “Really?” the guard asked.

“Uh, yes,” the hero said. “Just let me up and we can talk all about your feelings and maybe try to start a union or something.”

The boot left their back. The hero stood up and brushed themselves off. Then they punched the guard square in the jaw. The guard fell over unconscious.

Then they dragged him back into the room, tied his hands and feet together with scraps of the ribbon, then they tied the gag around his mouth. They smirked. Now they were starting to feel better.

They walked over to the foyer, the sounds of music and chatter echoing through the door to their left. They could leave. Sneak out through a vent or something. But they couldn’t pass up this opportunity. The villain thought they were taken care of, so it would be perfect to find the device.

They snuck through the house.

No, house wasn’t really a good description. More like a mansion. Or a palace. It wasn’t very inconspicuous, but it was one of the most guarded places in the city so it didn’t really have to be. With that in mind, the hero knew they had to keep sharp, and they had to be patient.

The latter being the most difficult.

They regretted knocking out the guard. He could’ve given the hero a tour. But now they were just stuck checking every room. There was nothing for a while.

Nothing until they found the villain’s office.

It was pretty average in terms of officeness. No signs of villainy about it. No giant swirly chair to turn dramatically in, no assortment of stuffed creatures, no giant red button that opened a trap door for someone on the other side to drop through.

It was disappointing to say the least.

They searched all the drawers, checked for false backs or secret openings, but still nothing. But then they looked in the file cabinet. There were multiple files for people whose names the hero didn’t recognize, but at the front of them all was a file marked, Arch Nemesis.

Of course.

They grabbed the file and tucked it under their arm. They couldn’t read it now. They only had so much time left before the party ended. If the device wasn’t in the next room they would cut their losses and leave.

But one thing they failed to notice: it was quiet. That wouldn’t be much of a problem normally, but when they had searched before they could still hear pieces of loud conversation and music through the hallways. There was none of that now. The party was already over.

And the hero realized that too late.

“Really you couldn’t wait ten minutes for me to come back? Admit it, you missed me.”

Before the hero could turn around, strong hands grabbed their arms, pinning them behind their back. The file dropped out of their hands.

The villain hummed into their ear. “Someone’s been looking into things they shouldn’t have.”

The hero tried to kick but the villain only responded by kicking the hero’s legs out from under them. They bracketed the hero’s hips with their own, and they kept the hero’s arms pinned above their head.

“Get off of me.” The hero growled.

The villain rolled their eyes. “You really can’t get it into your head that your powers don’t work on me, can you?”

“What can I say? I’m stubborn,” the hero said. “And you’re a liar.”

The villain laughed. “You can hide it all you want, hero, but I know the curiosity is driving you crazy. A problem you could never solve.”

The hero struggled, but the villain’s grip was like iron. “It’s not a problem. I can beat you without my powers.”

They could taste that lie in their mouth like bile. No they couldn’t. They could never beat the villain without backup and the villain knew it.

They shook their head. “You know I wasn’t going to tell you before I gave you the present, but I really think you’ve earned it.” They leaned in close. “I have the same powers as you do.”

The hero stopped struggling. “What?”

“I know! It was a little . . . frustrating at first, I can’t use my powers on you either, but you’ve been the most interesting hero yet.” Using one hand the villain pulled something out of their pocket. It looked like a dog collar. “I have learned that if you simply disable the other person’s powers, instead of cancelling out, your powers will finally work on them.”

The hero’s heart stopped. That’s what the agency had sent them looking for.

It had all been a setup.

The villain’s smile widened. “So, Merry Christmas. I know it’s early, but, hey, you’re worth it.”

“Keep that thing away from m-”

The hero’s voice died when the villain clipped the collar on.

#villain and hero #hero and villain #creative writing #writing snippet #short story #not a prompt

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bbygrgu · 4 years ago

Text

ethereal

a/n: the Levi agenda is strong with this one. enjoy. thanks @vennilavee

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of blood. takes place mid-season three. lots of soft.

pairing: levi x reader

word count: 1.5k

prompt: this post

The soft glow of the setting sun gave you a sense of hope. The oranges and pinks brought a calm, the way you thought the sea that Armin always talked about would. The late afternoon breeze attempted to carry your cloak away, trying to pull you into one of its games, but you let it carry on its own, allowing a little smile to slowly creep on your face.

That sense of dread was gone, even if for a fleeting moment.

Levi would be coming back any moment, dragging Kenny with him. Levi would be returning with some truth.

Levi didn’t make a sound when he approached, he didn’t have to. There was a shift in the air; the breeze no longer tugged at your cloak, the blends of orange and soft pinks were tainted with dread, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of your belly. The smile fell off your face faster than it grew.

You turned half way, head turned completely towards Levi. Your eyes widened at the sight.

Levi walked towards you, a small case limply in his hand. His eyes were glazed over, unfocused, his mind in another world. You’d seen him in a trance before, but never like this.

You called out to him, running towards him. Levi blinked, brows furrowed as he looked up at you. The confusion etched on your face brought him back to the present, to reality. He stopped in his tracks, looking down at the case in his hand.

You gasped once you got closer. Bits of his hair stuck to his face, blood on his cheeks and temple. You looked him over quickly, searching for any more injuries before moving your hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat. Slowly, you moved your hand up, thumb and index resting on either side of his jaw, turning his head by his jaw.

You looked over the blood on his face, noticing that there were no cuts on his skin. You frantically looked over to lock eyes with him; yours wide with worry and his calm, empty.

Kenny was dead.

Kenny left Levi with the last syringe that contained liquid to change anybody into a titan.

Kenny may have not left Levi with all the truths he was looking for, but he did leave Levi with something. Turns out, Kenny and Levi were blood-related. Kenny being Kuchel’s brother, Levi’s uncle. Turns out that Levi happens to have a connection with Mikasa Ackerman as well.

A little drizzle of honey in each cup, the scent of black tea and the sweetness of mint chamomile wafted through the halls as you made your way back to Levi’s quarters.

The floorboards creaked every few steps, soft chatter behind closed boomed from the loud officers, whispers as others snuck off to meet with one another; scouts were returning from outside in their casual civilian wear, others trying to slip outside to enjoy the rare quiet night.

Familiar faces greeted you, bidding you a goodnight whilst you passed one another. You whispered quiet hellos, raising the two mugs with a little smile to bid them goodnights, telling them to have moments to themselves; a reminder that nighttime was the perfect time to be selfish.

You couldn’t help the giggle forming at the sound of Hange through the halls, trying to convince Levi to open the door for them. Going on about their inquiry and how they needed to hear his opinions, if he’d consider volunteering to help them out with the next experiment. Hange performed all their gestures as if Levi was watching them.

Shyly smiling at Hange, holding up the two teacups, Hange gasped happily and took a big step back, yet their face practically glued to the door. Singing that Levi had to open the door now.

You quietly excused yourself, turning to knock with the side of your wrist, holding the teacup by the edge with your fingers. Three soft knocks and a whisper, “it’s me.”

The door opened, with Levi standing off to the side. His steel eyes moved from you over to Hange, narrowing as they started going off on their latest inquiry. You moved past Levi, brushing past him carefully, wishing Hange a goodnight.

Levi lingered at the door, watching Hange took a moment to breathe.

You figured Levi got bored and closed the door before Hange got the chance to exhale, given by the muffled whines. You bit back a giggle, setting Levi’s teacup down, saucer placed beside his reports in anticipation of your arrival.

You left Levi to finish his work, to process the events of the past few days on his own before he finally came to you.

One candle lit at the bedside, the curtains drawn open to let all the moonlight into the room, and the window slightly ajar. You sipped at your own tea, listening to the distant symphony of the outside; the smallest of insects, the nocturnal creatures, Scouts failing at attempt to keep themselves silent as they snuck around. You wished that the moon and her stars brought peaceful noise, too.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, only that you had dozed off and woken to the sound of Levi shuffling around in the main room of his quarters, the smell of sulfur wafting into the bedroom; Levi turned off the candle.

Shifting onto your side, you yawned, rubbing an eye as you looked at Levi lingering at the door. One room under the other, shoulder pressed against the door’s frame. Teacup abandoned on his desk, you already knew, and changed into clean night clothes.

With a sleepy smile, you lifted the covers up; a silent invitation to join in bed.

A sigh left Levi’s lips as he completely avoided the bed, heading straight to the window. You nearly whined in protest, keeping quiet when Levi shot you a sleepy, annoyed look. The window remained slightly ajar, but the curtains pulled close. You accepted it.

Levi made his way around the bed, you lifted the covers again; no longer was it an invitation, but a request now.

Carefully climbing in, Levi hovered over you. The ends of his locks framed his face, almost blocking out his eyes.

“You know I hate when you do that,” you mumbled with a frown, reaching up to gently brush his hair from his face.

To no avail, his hair went back over his face. You snorted, running your hand over his face, your palm just barely grazing his nose and forehead as your hands reached the crown of his head. Fingers spread wide, nails gently raking his scalp as you pulled all the locks out of his face and to the top of his head.

“You’re a whiny brat,” Levi muttered.

“Because I want to see your face?”

“You see my face plenty.”

“Not like this,” you whispered, just looking at him with his hair pulled away from his face.

Levi’s eyes softened, refusing to meet yours. They scanned over your lips, the dip of the cupid’s bow, your nose, before moving to look at your wrist and palm, finally moving to lock gazes with you.

You rolled your eyes, swiping your hand over the back of his head, nails grazing the shaved hair that lead down to the nape of his neck. Your thumb tucked under his jaw, nails carefully scratching the skin just below his hairline on the back of his neck.

“C’mere,” you breathed quietly, pressing against the soft flesh at the back of his neck with your ring finger.

Levi moved to lay beside you, both of you on your sides and turned towards one another. Levi’s hand lazily cupped your neck, his thumb mindlessly brushing against your chin. His hair sprung back into place, finding its place back against his face.

You reached over again, not bothering to move his hair completely away from his face, but enough so it wasn’t bothering him, to stay out of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, moving your hand to cup his cheek. Your thumb brushed against the corner of his lips.

Levi held your gaze, blinking slowly, lips rolling closed to suppress a yawn. It made you smile.

“Sleep. I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured with the softest of smiles, moving your hand.

Your thumb gently stroked Levi’s cheek, your eyes moving to inspect the cut on his cheek from his fight with Kenny during the Reiss ordeal. You hummed to yourself, letting your thumb graze over his eye, lovingly sweeping over his lashes.

Levi’s body visibly relaxed, slowly sinking into the mattress.

Your hand moved to his chest, your eyes looking over his peaceful face lovingly.

“Don’t be a fucking creep,” Levi muttered with his eyes closed, the hand on your neck nudged you closer; he wanted you close to him.

You happily obliged, the back of your hand against your mouth to suppress your own yawn.

Your bodies pressed close, but with enough space in between the both of you. His chin on your head, his hand moved from your neck to hold your wrist and move the hand that once massaged his scalp the way he likes to his chest, over his heart.

“Goodnight,” you muttered, sleep finally lulling you in.

#levi x reader #captain levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fic

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smoochkooks · 4 years ago

Text

—lost stars, part 2 (m.)

⟶ pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

⟶ genre: smut, angst, bits of fluff, (troubled) idol au, childhood friends to lovers

⟶ word count: 20k

⟶ summary: in dead hours of the night he stumbles upon the bars, reaching, searching, trying to feel something, for once forget about consequences and taste the bittersweet freedom. between sips of addiction and faint touches of nameless lovers he finds you again: his own long-lost star on a blackboard sky.

⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, soft dom!jk but also bit possessive!jk, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), praise kink, jk calling oc his pretty girl, unprotected sex (stay safe kiddos!), creampie, implicit car sex, mentions of infidelity, smoking, both oc and jk are emotional mess sometimes.

✔ read part one here!

a/n: i’m sorry i keep you waiting for so long but it’s finally here. as i promised, by the end of october. this story has a really special place in my heart, i’ve had it in my drafts for over a year now. i hope you’ll enjoy it!

Twenty-two. No, twenty-three. Or maybe it was actually twenty-two? Jungkook starts counting again.

Various, different certificates are aligned on the wall in front of him, every single one dedicated to the same man, sitting across the table with crossed arms and stern expression. It’s rather obvious his ego reaches far beyond the printed sheets of paper with his name written in swirly fonts. They are here just to make an impression, to fool people into believing that the pastel blue shirt he’s wearing and expensive watch on his wrist are the outcome of his hard work.

He opens his mouth to say something, but it doesn’t reach Jungkook’s ears. He starts counting again; this time the number of letters on the first certificate.

“What do you suggest we should do then?”

The man whose achievements in marketing and public relations Jungkook currently attentively analyzes, is Lee Ilsug, or at least that’s what those diplomas indicate. To be honest, Jungkook couldn’t care less about his name or the list of accomplishments that made him be employed here.

He’s new in the company, that’s certain. Jungkook didn’t have to deal with him before but Yoongi had the unpleasantness though, when he needed to deny the rumours going all around the Twitter about his slightly too close friendship with a female singer he had collaborated with.

Quoting Yoongi, Ilsung was pain in the ass.

“The photo is blurry. It’s debatable whether it’s Jungkook-ssi or not.” Another voice, this time female, cuts in. Jungkook remembers her face fleetingly from some PR meeting he had attended before. It looks like she’s now Ilsung’s assistant. “I checked SNS. Fans are on Jungkook’s side, they don’t believe what that girl had written, which is a good situation for us to interfere and release a statement.”

“What do you think, Jungkook?”

It’s Sejin. He was the one who contacted Jungkook about the ruckus in the company that has been going on since morning. The case is simple: on the day he did his walk of shame out of your apartment, he stopped to light up a cigarette that happened to be another one of his cardinal mistakes he’s made in span of 24 hours. What started with getting the temptation and alcohol got better of him and sleeping with you, ended with someone taking a picture of him while smoking.

It’s truly a miracle the photo’s quality is moderately vague. His mom always tells him he was born under the lucky star but for Jungkook it’s more like fate was playing hide and seek with him. This time, he managed to blend into the shadows in time.

Ilsung clicks his tongue. It’s not a secret he hates his job yet cherishes the money he earns. He pushes his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose and leans over the table. He’s close enough for Jungkook to notice the fresh cut from shaving on his cheek and a small, golden cross hanging on his neck.

He raises his brow, eyes trained on Jungkook. Cold, emotionless. Clearly, his ambitions don’t end on dealing with some idol’s reckless shenanigans. “Well? What’s on your mind, Jungkook-ssi? We are ready to release the statement denying rumours about the incident in an hour.”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. “But that will be a lie then. I did smoke, it’s me on that picture.”

Next to him, he hears Sejin clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Jungkook, I know it’s unfair but we can’t let it affect yours or boys’ reputations right now. We are a month before the comeback.” he says and no matter how much he tries to make it sound neutral, pulling the ‘what about the rest of the members?’ card is usually the last straw to bend Jungkook.

Jungkook releases a long sigh at that. He feels unworthy. He let down his brothers again, made them worry about him countless times before and that’s what he offeres in return: disappointment. He cannot risk his bandmates’ good name because of his incautious behavior. They sacrificed too much to be where they are now to lose it over a silly scandal.

“Do what’s best for the team.” he decides after a while.

Once he’s out of the office, his thoughts drift instinctively to you. Do you already know about the mess he created? Do you even search through social media, looking for the updates about him? No, you wouldn’t go there, he tells himself. He’s almost sure. He hopes those revelations won’t ever reach you.

Sejin breaks his chain of thoughts, stepping into the elevator after him. “What were you even doing in that part of the city so early?” he asks, staring at Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror.

“Does it really matter?”

Sejin’s features soften a little. He’s been with them practically since the beginning. Seen their best and worst, always by their side even when the whole world seemed to be against them. Piggybacking Jungkook out of the practice room because he complained about his feet being sore, joking behind the stage about trivial things when no cameras where around. They trusted him. And he’s never stopped believing in them.

“I told you that million times before. You are allowed to lead your life the way you want, Jungkook. I know how you feel, but as a public figure you have to be extremely careful, first and foremost. People don’t forget, nothing ever disappears from the Internet,” he says, or rather repeats the same mantra he’s been telling them since they broke into the mainstream and started being overly recognizable. “I am here to protect you but I won’t be able to do that if you don’t take care of yourself first.”

He places a strong hold on Jungkook’s shoulder and squeezes reassuringly. Jungkook releases a sigh and the door slides open behind them. “Thank you, hyung.”

“Always, Jungkook-ah. I’m feeling like a father of rebel teenager now.” Sejin laughs lightly to clear the heavy atmosphere, making Jungkook snort.

“Hey, I’m twenty-two!”

Sejin ruffles Jungkook’s hair, ignoring younger’s grumbling protests. The walk into the spacious parking lot of the company and Jungkook suddenly stops in his tracks.

“Does Bang already know about this?“ he asks matter-of-factly, although he’s sure what the answer will be. The confirmation he needs comes with a nod from Sejin. “Is he pissed?” he adds then.

Sejin raises his brows, looking down at him. “His golden boy let him down, what do you think? He might not be mad but he’s sure as hell disappointed.” He gestures to his car and Jungkook follows him without a word, imagining his boss’ sour expression next time he sees him. In Bang’s self-made ranking he’s sitting at last place right now probably.

“Want to grab a proper breakfast with me? I’ve been called into the company while I was in bed. I didn’t even have time to finish my coffee.” Sejin offers, pulling Jungkook out of his thoughts.

“Okay.” Jungkook says, hopping in Sejin’s car. “You’re buying?” he asks, mustering a snickering smile even though he’s definitely not in the mood for joking.

Sejin rolls his eyes, fastening his seatbelt. “Don’t you think you own it to me for saving your ass once again?”

“But I’m your rebel teenager kid, remember?” Jungkook pouts. When he sees Sejin hesitating, he opts for another strategy. The one that never fails. “Rock-paper-scissors?”

“Deal.”

Tonight, Jungkook pulls up in front of the club you’re working in with his car. It’s Friday night and he recalls you saying you work here every two weeks. He counted the days three times. There’s no way he made a mistake. He’s sober. And he has no intentions of getting drunk.

You’re surprised when you see him. You haven’t spoken a word for a whole week since he walked out of your apartment. He seems happier when he approaches you, flashing a bunny-toothed smile like nothing ever happened. Maybe he’s good at pretending. That’s exactly what you told him to do - act like the night he stripped you bare and fucked you silly was merely a mirage.

In a way, you’re relieved he makes everything seem ordinary, even though it’s anything but normal.

He waits for you to finish your shift. Tells you he drove here with his car and your eyes involuntarily widen. When you’re standing in front of his black Mercedes Benz, you can’t help but gawk.

“I don’t even want to know how much money this cost.” You take in the all-polished, black glory of his car, muttering “Holy shit” under your breath.

Jungkook chuckles to himself, gesturing for you to get in. You do it without a word, making yourself comfortable on the leather seat. If he manages not to make things awkward, you can do it to, acting as though he isn’t a well-known persona in your country with an addiction for unhealthy lifestyle.

He starts the engine and drives in the direction of your neighborhood, humming to himself the tune playing in radio. It’s awfully domestic, the way he navigates through the streets like he knows them like the back of his hand although you’re aware he’s glancing at his phone once in a while to check the directions. You catch yourself watching him from the corner of your eye with curiosity, biting your lip to suppress the urge to ask him million questions at a minute. Instead, you let him do whatever he has in mind. You can’t ruin this, you remind yourself.

Later that night, you’re sitting in his car in the darkness, parked on the rundown parking lot where no one’s standing expect for you. The only source of light is coming from the single street lamp nearby, illuminating delicately Jungkook’s features in dim, yellowish lighting.

He doesn’t say much. He fumbles with the hem of his jacket almost absentmindedly and you know him well enough to sense there’s something plugging his thoughts. You call his name and he turns his head to the side. It’s too dark for you to spot the tiredness on his beautiful face, too dark to read from his eyes and find all the needed answers in them.

“Is everything alright?” you ask and it sounds awfully loud in a small space of his car. Despite the silent promise you made to yourself about keeping things between you civil, you can’t help but interfere.

Jungkook then whirls on his seat so he can face you fully, flashing you a smile meant to throw all your former worries away. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to sit with you for a while like that, if you don’t mind.”

If anything, it doesn’t cure your concerns but you shove it to the back of your head for now. Nodding at his words, you fall into the distressing silence. The street lamp nearby goes out and if it wasn’t for the digital dashboard in Jungkook’s car, you would have been surrounded by darkness completely.

Jungkook chuckles under his breath and you follow suit. The sudden change in the atmosphere should be taken as a sign to abandon this damned parking lot and go somewhere else, but he looks like he has other plans in mind. Hearing the soft whisper of your name, you start feeling like it all was meant to happen. Him appearing in front of the club, the lights going out and enabling you to read the true emotions from your faces – it’s all like fate is again playing tricks with you.

You don’t know who moves first, crossing the invisible oceans between you and reaching homeland, but the next thing you feel is his lips on yours.

He tastes like the non-alcoholic beverage he drunk earlier, mixed with faint bitterness of his beloved cigarettes and something akin to mint, yet you’re drowning in it, in him, in the warmth of his breath on your wet lips.

You feel the world spiraling in front of your eyes, despite your soberity. You’re moving automatically; leaning into his touch and accepting the kiss with raw passion, welcoming his tongue in your mouth willingly. It should be alarming how good it feels to have him like this, in your arms, teeth scrapping your neck until you’re writhing in your seat. Breathless, he takes the hint, maneuvering your body until you’re straddling his lap.

It feels dangerously familiar. You know what’s going to happen next, when he unzips your jacket and places his hands underneath your sweater, relishing in the way you shiver at the coldness of his touch. When he sinks his teeth in your neck and withdraws seconds before leaving a blossoming mark. Yet you make no vow to stop him.

From this exact moment, it’s just a blur of hushed whispers, broken moans and quick caresses that leave you yearning for more. Jungkook acts like he knows your body inside and out, thrusting his fingers knuckle-deep into your heat until you’re keening and begging him for more. And he gives it to you with earnest, coaxing you into an orgasm with one last, final flick of his thumb on your sensitive bud.

Jungkook groans when you palm his bulge through the material of his pants, but he’s too desperate to feel your wetness around him to let you tease him any longer. When you sink down onto him, all of your rational thoughts fly away with the breathy moan you let out in unison with his choked gasp.

It’s fast and ragged, chasing the high that it’s both forbidden yet so craved. And it hurts, when tears well in your eyes, when you’re at the brick of pleasure and you know there’s no way in the world you’re going to experience a desire so raw and overwhelming with anyone, ever again. It hurts when Jungkook picks up the pace and fucks into you with ferocity and anger, because the world is unfair and he’s a slave in the system in which freedom means fucking you dirty in his car when it’s dark out.

And he hates it, hates it so much when you unveil in front of him, whimpering his name hoarsely and tightening around his cock deliciously. He swallows every sound you make with his mouth, clenching his teeth because the pleasure is right there, but he needs an extra push to throw himself over the edge. It’s his name on your lips and the whimper of “Inside, please” that finally makes him snap.

Then, there’s only guilt and laboured breaths. In his self-made list of mistakes, you’re aiming for the top.

Grocery shopping has never been your favourite thing to do.

You would never quite enjoy doing it, not due to the constant anxiety of forgetting about buying something even if you make a list of products beforehand, not when you don’t have enough money to buy a little extra than needed (thanks to the dear capitalistic world we live in).

Right now, you’re standing in the middle of an aisle with cereal, trying to look as much casual as possible so people passing by wouldn’t suspect you to be a wanna-be thief. The cause of your distress sits at the very top shelf and there’s no way in hell you’ll manage to snatch that Reese’s Puffs without knocking everything over.

Defeated, you raise your hand to take your second option (good, old Corn Flakes), but a familiar voice coming from the right stops you in tracks.

“Need some help?”

Twirling on your feet, you’re now standing face to face with Kihyun – Minho’s friend from work. Smiling sheepishly, you nod. “I do, actually. Can you pass me these ones, please?”

You feel stupid asking that but fortunately, Kihyun doesn’t seem to mind your awkwardness. You talked to him briefly a few times before thanks to Minho, who took his friendship with him as far as to go on a double date together.

“So, how are you?” Kihyun asks, placing the cereal box in your cart.

“I’m good, thanks. I assume you’ve been also doing well,” He raises his eyebrows at that and you clarify, “Minho told me you got promoted lately. Congrats, chief Yoo.”

“Ah, yeah, thank you,” There’s a tiny bit of pink covering the apples of his cheeks when he waves his hand dismissively at your comment. “But it’s not that big of a deal.”

“I’m sure working in a homicide department is a big deal,” you say. “And I heard it requires some extra shooting training as well.” you add, alluding to what Minho has told you the day you read the message on his phone from someone named Soyeon.

To your surprise, Kihyun furrows his brows in a manner that could only mean he’s confused. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Hiding your astonishment with a light laugh, you explain, “Don’t you go to the shooting range with Minho after work? He told me so a while ago.”

Something akin to realization crosses Kihyun’s face. He shakes his head. “Yeah, we went there together once or twice but recently he’s training there our new recruit, Soyeon.”

His words punch you right in the guts. Minho lied to you. He wouldn’t come up with that shitty excuse if he didn’t have something dirtier to hide, right? Maybe you’re exaggerating, but he certainly hasn’t been truly honest with you for a while now. It must be a reason behind his strange behavior.

“Are you okay?”

For a moment you’ve forgotten you’re in the middle of the grocery store with your boyfriend’s friend. Shaking yourself off your unpleasant thoughts, you send Kihyun an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry. I just remembered I need to go to the pharmacist’s and they’re closing soon so I gotta hurry now.” you lie. He doesn’t look like he entirely bought your story but nevertheless, he bids you goodbye.

You leave the store with half-empty shopping bag, raging headache and a torn heart.

They say silence can speak more than any exchanged words.

It hovers in the air, heavy and overwhelming, a tension primed to snap at any moment yet it has never happened before. There’s always quiet, no hushed sentences, half-lies or stuttered confessions leaving quivering lips.

Sometimes you wonder when will you have enough. When will you be able to resist, to say you’re hurting so bad it aches right in your heart, like there are tons of bricks lying on your chest, suppressing your breathing. And maybe this is the night.

A few unread messages on your phone, next one popping up and the screen lights up.

[1:23pm] jungkook:

i need you

It pains, a dull ache and suddenly there isn’t enough air in the room. [1:24pm] jungkook:

please

He never begs. It doesn’t suit him. There is too much pride and power inside him to crawl in front of you, to fall to his knees and plead. Yet, you falter, shaking fingertips typing a quick response. When brain screams fuck you, you don’t deserve me, a sight of him makes all the rational thoughts go to hell.

He stands in your door, slender body leaning against the frame. You haven’t seen him for a while, a week or maybe two. His skin is pale, sheer and delicate you worry it might break if you trail your fingers over it. There are bangs under his bloodshot eyes and you know he had trouble sleeping again. It hurts seeing him like this, beautiful and broken but you’ve always loved picking up the damaged pieces.

He smiles, a lopsided smirk you know oh so well, a dark amusement because here you are, pliant under his gaze, vulnerable under his every command.

“Hello, doll.”

It’s the ‘doll’ that makes you grimace. Nickname he uses only when you’re stripped bare for his liking, bend to his will. It means he’s been drinking. Probably the expensive whiskey you hate the taste of so much when it lingers bitterly on your tongue after each swipe of his mouth against yours. “Will you let me in?” he then asks although he already knows the answer.

It’s cruel of him how he uses your weakness. You hate seeing him like this, hate when he’s thrown apart and you’re the only one who knows how to fix him. That’s why you move away from the door in a silent invitation, biting your lip when you see his slouching posture and unsteady walk.

It hurts when you help him sit on your bed and he smiles at you lazily, in all his beautiful yet broken glory. You almost don’t recognize him. It’s not your Jungkook. Your Jungkook would never drown his misery in alcohol, he would never sit in your room barely conscious, smelling of cheap bars and cigarettes.

But you accept your fate the way it is.

“I need to sober you up a little. I’ll go get you a glass of water, okay?” He hums in response, although you’re worried it might have not reach his ears at all.

Jungkook looks up when your back, accepting the water and drinking it with eagerness. “You’re too good to me, you know that right?” he slurs a little once he’s done. “I don’t deserve you.” he adds after a moment, cupping your cheek with his unoccupied palm.

You squeeze your eyes shut because you fear you might break down in front of him if you look him in the eyes. He strokes your skin, murming “I’m so sorry” all over again.

You stay like that for a few beats of silence, breathing in each other’s presences until you hear Jungkook’s phone buzzing in the pocket of his jacket. Taking it out, you see ‘Jimin-hyung’ written on the screen. “Your friends are worried about you.” you murmur, nudging his side.

“Tell them to go to hell.” You hear him muttering under his breath. Sighing, you decide to exit the room and answer the call.

“Jungkook? Where the fuck are you?!” Jimin’s angered, thick with Busan dialect voice rings in your ears, making you flinch. “You should’ve at least answer my text once so I would know you’re okay!”

Mustering the courage, you take a deep breath and say, “Hi, it’s Y/N speaking. Jungkook’s friend.”

There’s a pause on the other side, until your hear Jimin clearing his throat. “Oh, hi. Is Jungkook maybe with you?” he asks and you smile to yourself involuntarily noticing how his voice has changed once he realised he’s not speaking to his friend.

“He is. Drunk, but in one piece.” you reply, sparing a glance at aforementioned Jungkook who’s now slumped down on your bed, probably fast asleep.

Jimin sighs with relief. “That’s good then. You know, we got into a little fight today and he suddenly disappeared without a trace, and we are right before the comeback so–”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything to me,” you interrupt his rushed rambling. “I’ll take care of him.”

“Thank you, Y/N-ssi. It means a lot.”

‘’I’ve been taking care of his ass practically since we were kids, so it’s not a big deal for me,” you chuckle lightly, even though you’re definetely not in the mood for jokes. “Well, maybe not in that way but still.”

“I know. He told me about you.”

Your eyes widen. “He did?” you ask, failing to hide the surprised tone of your voice.

“Yeah, he did. When he first told us he met his childhood friend accidentally in the club he got drunk in, we didn’t believe him at first. But then he slowly started opening up more about you and even showed me some picture of you and him when you were kids.” Jimin says. “You know, Jungkook hasn’t been himself for quite a while. He kept pushing us away but ever since he met you, he’s started smiling again. Please, promise me you’ll never hurt him.”

You release a shaky breath. “I promise.”

It’s easy to promise such thing. Because you’re for sure going to end up being hurt first.

It’s your alarm that wakes you up the next morning.

The sight of Jungkook is long gone, the only proof he’s been here in your bed last night is an empty glass on your bedside table and a small note written on the napkin.

Thank you for everything. I really don’t deserve you.

Jungkook.

Sheets have gone already cold underneath your fingertips where he laid beside you just hours ago. You didn’t get much sleep the night, watching his beautiful, pale features illuminated by the moonlight slipping through your window. He looked so peaceful with his chapped lips slightly parted and in that moment, you couldn’t think of any reason to hate him and what he’s doing to you.

Later, when you’re finally out of uni, you come home and take a quick shower. It’s Wednesday and Wednesdays are reserved for your small dates with Minho. The guilt you’re feeling while getting dressed and fixing your makeup is eating you from the inside. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you almost don’t recognize the shallow of a girl you’re seeing.

You are not a bad person, you keep reminding yourself, then why did you sleep with him that night? Let him crawl into your bed again and again after?

Minho waits for you outside in his car. He’s taking you to a new Thai restaurant and you manage to hide the frown on your face, because your dear boyfriend forgot you don’t like this type of food.

“You look pretty tonight, babe,” he says once you’re inside, waiting for your orders. You smile at him briefly. “It’s really been a while since we went out together, hasn’t it?”

At that, you nod curtly. It’s true, you haven’t seen each other last week at all. Minho ditched your usual Wednesday date in favor of staying at work for something important. It happened second or third time this month. You feel like you don’t have right to be mad at him. If anything, that’s what you deserve for lying to him behind his back.

The rest of the evening goes smoothly. Your food arrives, you act like you don’t feel nauseous chewing on your pad thai and trying to break out the taste with red wine. Minho babbles about the new Netflix series he’s started watching and you’re pretending to be intrested. Wednesday date at its finest.

Then, when you’re about to pour yourself another glass of wine, Minho stops you with his hand on yours. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something,” You fight an urge to roll your eyes. He wants to discuss serious matters? What a change. “We’ve been together for eight months. My parents keep asking about you.”

“Oh,” you blurt out. To hide your anxiety, you force out a breathy laugh. “So, what about them?” you ask, however you already know what the answer is going to be.

“I thought we could visit them soon in Daegu over some weekend when you don’t have work,” he proposes, squeezing your hand as if to calm your nerves. It’s not doing much to put you at ease. “My mom has already started making plans what food she should make. They’re really excited to meet you.”

You feign a smile. It should be a natural progression for couples to take things at a time, step by step but you can’t help but feel uneasy. Minho wants his parents to meet you, the girl who lets a certain raven-haired boy play with her heart and mess with her head. In a sick game where both parties are out of reach, you’re terribly losing.

“I’d love to meet your parents.” you say finally, almost breathless.

“You don’t look very excited.” Minho comments with a smirk and you know he’s joking but the lump in your throat only grows.

You smile meekly. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. What if they won’t like me?”

“I’m sure they’re gonna love you. You don’t have anything to worry about.” he dismisses your concerns, reaching for the wine bottle to pour himself a glass. “I’ve got one more thing to tell you. I know it’s a lot for one evening but I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for weeks now so since we have this opportunity now, I’m gonna use it.”

Color drains from your face. What else is there to converse about all of a sudden? Biting the inside of your cheek, you give him a sign to continue.

“I’ll go straight to the point. I want you to move in with me,” The bomb explodes and you nearly drop your wine glass to the floor. “I know it might be a lot for your but I really, really want to see you every day in my bed. My apartment is big enough for both of us but once I get the promotion my boss talked to me about last week, we can look for something fancier.”

You stare at him blankly. First his parents, now this? Minho from the beginning of your relationship was the one who liked to take things slowly. He didn’t kiss you until your third date, he waited unnecessary amount of time to have sex even though you told him over and over again you were more than ready to do it with him.

The sudden rush feels weird. As if sensing your discomfort, Minho clears his throat and asks, “Don’t you want to move in with me?”

You notice the subtle change in his voice, the way he’s not as enthusiastic as he was a minute ago but you shove it to the back of your head. “I’m surprised,” you respond neutraly. “And of course I don’t mind living with you. I just thought you wanted to take things slow.”

Minho clicks his tongue. “This has nothing to do with that. I’m not asking you to marry me, Y/N,” he chuckles but you don’t mirror the sentiment. “I think it would be more comfortable for you to live with me than your current cubby-hole.”

He’s already irritated by your reaction and you know it’s better not to poke the bear but those three glasses of wine down your throat give you enough courage to disagree. “Your place is further from my university and work. Not to mention I have a five minutes long walk to the underground now and it would take longer for me to get there in your area.” you point out.

“You can get a driving license then finally.”

You frown. “What do you mean ‘finally’? You know damn well I can’t afford it now with the job I have and student loan. We talked about it before.”

Minho is aware that with your current financial situation you’re barely making ends meet and you can’t let yourself have another, bigger expenses. But you’re fine on your own, you don’t mind living where you do because that’s the result of your independence. You showed your parents you are able to study and work without their extra help. You’re proud of yourself for that.

“Now you’re literally making excuses. Just say you don’t want to move in.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you try to reason. “I’m not ready for such a big step yet. I need more time to think about it.”

Minho snorts, rolling his eyes. “What else is there to think about? Either you say yes or no!” His raised tone catches attention from the family sitting nearby and they send curious glances in your direction.

“Stop being so loud, please. We are in a restaurant for God’s sake.” you whisper-shout.

“Do I look like I give a fuck?” he snorts, obnoxious and annoyingly snarky.

You stay quiet for a moment, debating whether you should give up entirely and hang a white flag or wait for the atmosphere to clear on its own. But you’re so, so tired. Tired of being lied to. Tired of always having to choose your words carefully and bending to his will.

“You know, I met Kihyun the other day at grocery store,” Minho doesn’t seem much interested in your inquiry, still deeply frustrated with your tantrum. He simply hums, unfazed. “I congratulated him on his promotion. He for sure needs to visist shooting range more now, doesn’t he?”

Minho arches his brow. “Yeah, I told you he goes there with me and that new recruit.”

It’s ironic, how easily he can lie to you straight in the eye. But you’re strong enough now to fight back. “That’s interesting actually, because Kihyun said something totally different.” you say languidly, watching your boyfriend narrowing his eyes.

“And what is that?”

“He said you’re going there only with your new recruit, Soyeon. The one sending you messages on your private phone.”

Minho gapes at you for a few short seconds and then, bursts into laughter. “What are you trying to insinuate here, honey?” he asks.

The petname sounds mocking this time. Ignoring his lighthearted approach to the situation, you dodge a bullet. “I’m not insinuating anything yet. I just pointed out that you lied to me.”

“Lied? That’s bullishit. I would never lie to you.”

“But you did, Minho. The day I asked you who Soyeon was after reading the message on your phone. You said you’re visiting shooting range with her and Kihyun after work sometimes. Turns out it’s just you and her after all. Isn’t that a lie?” you press.

Minho doesn’t like being backed into the corner. When you confronted him first, he thought he had everything under control. Now, he’s losing it and he isn’t used to being that helpless.

“So what? Maybe I told you that so you wouldn’t freak out and think I’m cheating on you. Because that’s all it is about, right? You think I’m fucking someone behind your back.” he snaps, making you wince.

“I didn’t say that.” you counter but there’s no use for that. You stepped into the lion’s den.

He aprubtly stands up from his chair and the cutlery on your table clutters. “You know what? I’m done. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit anymore.” He withdraws his wallet from the pocket of his jacket and throws a few bills onto the table.

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips. “Your’e leaving? Just like that?”

“Yeah. Are you going with me or not?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I guess someone has to finish this bottle. It would be a shame to waste such expensive wine.” you say, mustering a sarcastic smile.

Minho doesn’t utter anything more to you. He nods and exits the restaurant, leaving you sitting by the table alone. Despite the stares, hushed whispers and an urge to run away and hide from the audience, you stay a little longer and drink up that damned bottle of wine until there’s no droplets left inside.

Once you’re outside, you inhale greedily the fresh air. Your head spins a little and you’re debating whether to take an Uber home or just walk thirty minutes on your own to sober up a little. You choose the latter.

You don’t know what makes you dial his number. You’ve never done that before. He was the one calling you in the middle of the name and begging without words to tend his wounds. Tables have turned, and here you are.

You call once, twice. After the fifth attempt you give up, showing your phone into the pocket of your coat. As the first tear rolls down your cheek, you realise he would never be there to pick up your pieces.

Three missed calls from: Jungkook

[11:11pm] jungkook:

I’m so sorry y/n. I couldn’t pick up the phone cause we had late practice

Please call me back. I’m worried

Two missed calls from: Jungkook

[11:36pm] jungkook:

At least text me if you’re okay

Please

[11:39pm] me:

I’m fine

[11:39pm] jungkook:

Thank God

You sure you don’t wanna talk?

[11:41pm] me:

Maybe next time

[11:41pm] jungkook:

Okay

Night, miss grumpy

You’re sitting in your favourite cafeteria, typing furiously on your laptop the last paragraph in your assignment. Your philosophy proffesor has been a bitch lately, telling you to write essays about the most uninteresting stuff she could possibly think of. And here you are, writing about Hegel’s triads, reminding yourself the semester soon will be over and so will be your mandatory philosophy classes.

Taking a moment to sip on a caramel macchiato you ordered, you notice a message popping up on your lockscreen.

[10:45am] jungkook:

Do you have time now?

I need to tell you sth

It’s been two days since your date with Minho. You’re still mentally flogging yourself for calling Jungkook that night repulsively because of your tipsiness. In that exact moment, he was the only person on your mind you could talk to. Once the fresh air cooled down your emotions, you realised how stupid your idea was.

With slight resistance (and raced heartbeat), you type a response.

[10:46am] me:

I guess

[10:46am] jungkook:

Great. I’m gonna call you now

Eyes widening, you stare at your phone. What is so important that he cannot just text you instead? Not even a minute later, you hear buzzing. Exhaling shakily, you answer it.

“Hi, Miss Grumpy,” Jungkook says and you could tell by the tone of his voice he’s in a good mood. He sounds like the old Jungkook you know well. It’s a pleasant surprise. “What’s up?”

“You called me to ask how am I doing?”

Jungkook chuckles and something inside you flutters hearing that. “And what if I did?”

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “Let’s just say it’s unusual of you. Shouldn’t you be at some dance practice right now?” you ask.

“We just ended a company meeting. And this is exactly the reason why I’m calling you.”

“Should I be scared?”

”Not at all. I’m gonna move straight to the point,” he says and your pulse involuntarily quickens. “Are you free next weekend?”

You bite your lip. There’s a part of you that wants so bad to counter with “What? Do you need a booty call?” but you don’t let your facade break that easily. Instead, you tell the truth. “Yeah, I am.”

“Would you like to go with me to Busan then?”

You nearly spill the coffee onto your laptop. “Oh.” You can’t quite hide the surprise in your voice. You would never expect him to propose you such thing, yet here you are.

It’s been a while since you were home. Not like you don’t want to see your parents, it’s actually the opposite. The reason you haven’t been in Busan for months is simple: you don’t have extra cash on the side to afford a two-way train ticket.

Sensing your bewilderment, Jungkook takes your silence as a sign to explain further his sudden proposition. “Our company gave us few days off to relax before final comeback preparations so I decided I could go home,” It’s what he says and unsure of what to answer with, you only hum in response. “You told me some time ago you haven’t seen your parents since Christmas so I thought you might accompany me.”

Something squeezes in your chest hearing that. You fail to hide the smile creeping on your features and despite the many obstacles that should be a warning sign for you to say no, you find yourself reminiscing in the idea of spending a weekend at home with Jungkook. Just like old times.

“Okay. I agree.”

Upon hearing your response, Jungkook breathes out a sigh of relief to the phone. “I thought you would ditch me.”

“Excuse me? Who do you think I am? I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to eat my mum’s bulgogi.”

You can’t ignore how you’re feeling, cheeks flushed and a silly smile stretching on your lips. But there’s still that bugging thought present at the back of your head, reminding you of your illicit affair and every mistake you’ve made so far. Maybe agreeing to a small trip down childhood memory lane is one of them.

Right now, sitting in a cafeteria and talking on the phone with Jungkook about the details and your mum’s cooking skills, you pretend like you’ve turned back the time and everything else is a mere drawback to deal with later.

“I can’t believe I agreed to do that.”

That, is a blatant lie. You know damn well why you’re standing on the pavement in front of the building you live in as Jungkook pulls up with his high-priced, straight-from-the-salon black Mercedes. Something ignites in your lower stomach at the mere memory of what you’ve done there inside last time.

When he exits the car, you disregard as best as you can the aloof feeling in your chest, seeing him adjusting his bucket hat further down. This is the life he’s living, you remind yourself. If he wants to minimize the risk of people with preying eyes recognizing him.

Dressed in all black, he comes up to you and lifts his head up. That’s when you see him fully for the first time since he stumbled through your drunk and barely conscious. He smiles widely approaching you, not an ounce of uncertainty in his movements when he wraps his arms around you in a bear hug.

“What’s that for?” you mumble.

“Just missed you.”

He smells like the flowery fabric softener you know he likes. It almost lulls you into paying no mind to the thumping of your heart against your ribcage and redness blossoming on your cheeks.

It almost makes you forget he’s not yours, and you will never be his.

You’re the first one to withdraw, stepping away. “You’re such a sap.” It’s the first thing that comes to your mind to say after such intimate moment – twist it into something without depth and meaning you’re so afraid of facing.

He shrugs, still smiling. “I’m just happy we’re going to spend some time together with our families.”

You know he is. Jungkook has always been a family person. Moving out at a ripe age of fourteen paradoxically strengthened the bond he has with his parents and brother.

He picks up your bag from the ground and throws it into the trunk next to his. Getting into the car, you mutter, “You know, I tweet ‘eat the rich’ every two days but you are safe from my hatred for high class as long as you drive my ass with this expensive car to Busan.”

Jungkook chuckles, starting the engine. “Thanks for your kindness, love. Good to know I’m pardoned.”

“Jokes aside, I mean it though. I might want Jeff Bezos to rot in hell but at the same time I think you deserve that money because I know you worked hard to achieve it.” you say, buckling your seatbelt.

He spares you a quick glance and arches his eyebrow. “I didn’t know you are actually a fellow comrade Y/N, Miss Grumpy.”

“Oh, boy. Follow me on my private account. You’ll see then how radical I can get.”

You earn another laugh from him and you find yourself getting more and more comfortable in the situation, sitting in his car and venturing onto a weekend trip to your hometown. The perspective of spending a couple of hours with Jungkook in the same car doesn’t seem to bother you as much as it did the whole week before.

Tapping the unknown rhythm on your thighs, you reach to press what you think might be the radio button. Your aren’t good with modern technology, so you smile triumphantly to yourself, hearing the first tunes blasting from the speakers.

The slow pop-ballad ends and radio host announces next song as ‘fan favorite’. You look out of the window for a short while just to be brought back to the reality by the sound playing in the background. You know this song more than well.

“No. We are not listening to this.” Jungkook reaches to change the radio station with a speed of light, but you swat his hand away.

“Jesus christ, stop being so dramatic. I love Blood Sweat and Tears! It’s a masterpiece.” you protest.

“I thought you don’t listen to our songs.”

You gasp, placing a hand on your chest. “Excuse me? I’ve been to your concert twice, dumbass. And I’m saving up money for another.”

That, is true. You like listening to BTS not because of Jungkook (though he might one of the reasons you fancy them) but it’s their music and message in general. Now, since they’re over their badboy phases and objectifying women in every ‘love song’, you’re fond of them even more.

You start humming Namjoon’s part when Jungkook cuts in. “Okay, then. Who’s your bias?” he asks.

You don’t miss the way he seems to grip the steering wheel tighter. Of course he would be that petty to ask you this. To entertain yourself a little, you quip, “Take a wild guess.”

“It has to be Jimin-hyung.” he says right away.

You shake your head. “Boo. Try again.”

“Namjoon-hyung. You bit your lip when he started rapping his part.”

“That’s bullshit. Namjoon’s hot but not my type. And you should keep your eyes on the road, buddy.” Placing your fingers on his chin, you turn his head away.

Jungkook sighs. “Who is it then?”

“Taehyung.”

Hearing your response, he snorts. “I should’ve known that.”

“And why is that?” you ask, trying to hide your amusement.

“Because he’s the most good looking from us all. He dresses stylishly,” You could tell by the tongue in his cheek you’re irking him right now. Adding to the irony, Taehyung’s part in the song comes blasting from the speakers. “He has a nice, deep voice.” Jungkook adds and before he can name another positive trait of his friend, you chime in.

“Is somebody jealous?”

Though you’re clearly making fun of him, he decides to chuckle like he doesn’t give a fuck anyway. “Jealous? Of Tae? Please. I have no reason to be.”

Smirking to yourself, you find his demeanor too entertaining. “That’s good then. Because I think you’re handsome too. And I love your voice when you sing.” you say, turning your head to the side to observe his reaction.

No matter how much he tries to hide it, clenching his jaw and giving you an eye roll, there’s no use for that. The blush covering his cheeks gives him anyway. His agony ends with one last beat of the song.

Hiding a yawn behind your palm, you lean back onto your seat. Last night you didn’t get as much as you’d like to and your four hours long drive to Busan seems like a great opportunity for a compensatory nap.

Drifting off to sleep, the last thing you remember is Jungkook’s hands on the steering wheel and his soft voice humming the song playing in the radio.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up. We’re almost there.”

Slowly opening your eyes, you’re met with familiar-looking streets of your hometown, Busan. You jerk abruptly, straightening your posture. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” you ask, looking to your left at Jungkook.

He shrugs in response. “You looked like you didn’t want to be waken. And trust me, I know what it feels like to be brought back to reality from a good nap too early.”

You don’t dwell on that more. Instead, you look out of the window, greedily drinking in the city. You’re now driving through downtown, passing by shining skyscrapers. Both yours and Jungkook’s houses are situated in a more peaceful area of Busan, closer to the sea. That’s why you spent most of your childhood and teenage days there as long as the weather was merciful.

Spring has always been your favourite time of the year but spring in Busan hits different. You don’t have an occasion to sit by the sea and watch the sky burning in orange and red in Seoul. Here, where you used to grow up, spring is the cherry tree blossoming, your mum planting vegetable seeds in her small garden behind your house, you and Jungkook smoking cigarettes underneath the pier while the sun hides behind the horizon.

“Did you tell your parents you’re coming?” Jungkook’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“No, I didn’t. I want it to be a surprise for them.”

“Oh, that’s cute.” he comments curtly and turns right. You’re approximately thirty minutes until you reach your destination. “I need to talk with you about one more thing before we get there.”

You focus your sight on him, however he seems to avoid your eyes. You give him a sign to continue. “Go on.”

Jungkook rubs his forehead with his hand and then sighs. It’s a nervous habit of his, you recognize. “I just want to apologize for causing you so much trouble. Not only last time but in general,” He stops at the red light and cocks his head to the side to look at you. “I acted like a complete dick and you don’t deserve to be treated like that. I’m sorry for everything. I thought this small trip here would be some sort of redemption for me, I don’t know.” The lights turns to orange, then to green and he focuses his eyes on the road again.

Reaching over the gearshift, you place a hand on his thigh to get his attention. When he peeks at you with the same, round, sparkly eyes you’ve grown to adore, all you can do is smile softly. “I’m okay, Kook. If that’s what you need, I don’t mind helping you. If only it means you’ll be okay too.”

Perhaps he notices the sadness in your eyes when you say it. Perhaps he can tell your smile is not the happiest he’s ever seen. If he does, he chooses to stay silent. Instead, he nods. Taking his action as a sight to withdraw, you straighten on your seat.

“There’s one more anything, actually,” Jungkook adds after a while.

“What is it?”

“You’re invited to a party.”

“What party?” you ask, brows furrowed.

‘’We are celebrating Junghyun’s engagement.” he says casually.

Eyes widening, you let out a shocked gasp. “What?! Your brother got engaged?”

Jungkook sends you a look. “Jealous, buttercup?”

You roll your eyes. “I told you I had a crush on your brother when I was ten. It’s been twelve years since then. Twelve!” you exclaim, but he only smirks in response.

The reason you liked Junghyun as a kid was simple: he was your best friend’s older brother. He was just there yet unreachable at the same time.

(And he didn’t have as many pimples as Jungkook.)

But Junghyun getting married? That is a news to you. You clearly remember him telling you one day he would never form a serious relationship before he reaches thirty. Looks like he made up his mind.

“I’m just pleasantly surprised he decided to settle down. Junghyun has always been more of a free soul when it comes to dating. I even remember your mum throwing him a tantrum during barbecue because of this.” you say.

“Honestly, I’m not that shocked. You should’ve seen him looking at Hyerin during our Christmas dinner. This boy is whipped.” Jungkook chuckles.

“Your parents must be happy.” you comment absentmindedly.

He nods, the corners of his mouth stretching in a small smile. “Yeah, they are. They really like Hyerin. And considering they won’t be getting grandchildren anytime soon thanks to my line of work–” he trails off, “–they are even happier that hyung is settling down.”

The air seems heavy now inside Jungkook’s car. He said an obvious thing you were aware of but something aches in your chest at the thought.

You will never understand why there’s so much stigmatization surrounding idols dating other people. Wanting to be loved by someone is a natural, human need. Prohibition won’t magically stop them from catching feelings.

But there’s also another side of the story – the one Jungkook referred to. In his line of work even if there are no obstacles, it’s hard to maintain a long-lasting relationship. And he knows that.

You still remember vividly his first girlfriend. Her name was Eunbi and she was one of their manager’s daughter. Her dad used to take her to the MV sets, introduced her to the boys because she was a fan of them. And that’s how she met Jungkook.

Jungkook, age seventeen, was too shy to hold a proper conversation and keep eye contact with a girl at the same time but somehow, him and Eunbi got along pretty quickly. They shared a sympathy for the same video games and for Jungkook back then it was enough to fall head over heels for her. She was his first kiss as he told you (”First real one, because I don’t count that peck Jisoo gave me in fifth grade as a kiss.”)

After that moment you decided you’d never like Eunbi. Not because you were furiously in love with him, no.

You just didn’t want to see him form such a close bond with anyone else but you.

Their fairytale love story ended when Eunbi’s father found out about their secret randez-vous. Jungkook sulked for a week and then eventually got over Eunbi.

(And he was again texting you about that video game you had no interest in but you pretended to be a good substitute for Eunbi and her nerdiness you lacked.)

“What are you thinking about?”

You’re standing on the red light again. Glancing at Jungkook, you find him staring right back at you. “I’m wondering whether I’m invited to the wedding.” you lie.

“Of course you are. I’m sure hyung is going to do it officially tomorrow,” he answers with a grin. “I think Taehyung is coming too. He loves weddings.”

Narrowing your eyes, you reply with a saccharine sweet voice, “It’s about time you introduce me to your bandmates. Especially Taehyung-oppa.”

“Oppa?”

You bite your lip. There’s no doubt you did that on purpose. You find it rather amusing to see Jungkook so worked up over such a silly thing. You wonder how far you can go before he finally snaps.

Smirking to yourself, shrug your shoulders. “The light’s green. Watch the road, Kookie.”

Jungkook huffs, shaking his head. It’s approximately fifteen minutes until you reach your destination. “I’m sure you will be delighted to meet him.” he says with enough amount of sarcasm for you to know he’s irritated.

“Oh, I will be over the moon.”

“Good.”

“Amazing, even.”

You hope he doesn’t notice you failing to maintain a serious expression.

You moved with your parents to your new house in Busan at the age of eight, two ponytails, overalls and sparkly sneakers every kid wanted to have adoring your small frame, a look of pure concern worrying your childish, chubby features.

It was a quiet neighborhood, on the suburbs of the town, a row of similarly looking terraced buildings and small gardens in front of them, every single one akin to the other. There was nothing distinctive about the area, it screamed dullness and tedium but for years you have grown to call this place home.

You know every corner here inside out. A local grocery store owned by a lovable, elder woman known as Miss Kim, who always has spare candies underneath the counter for children who come to buy something for their parents. Next to the store, there is a florist’s. Your first, high school part-time job. The intense smell of roses makes you nauseous to these days.

There is also your primary school, huge backyard behind it with a run-down playground. You never minded it though, spending there probably too much time for your parents liking. Many memories were made there. First, innocent childish peck placed on your cheek from a 6th grader named Jinyoung. Twisted ankle, tears, pain and regret because you decided to jump off the highest step of the climbing frame one Friday afternoon after classes. A punch to the face of school’s bully Dongin, who called your new pair of Converse trainers ugly.

It was exactly fourteen days before the end of August when you met Jungkook.

You had been living in the new house for almost a month but still felt too insecure to explore the neighborhood. Most of your time you were spending inside, missing your old friends and reading books to distract your attention from the approaching start of the second semester in school.

It was probably one of the last scorching-hot days of the year and you were sitting in your garden alone, family’s cat named Leo purring on your lap, when all of a sudden a ball bounced on the grass right in front of you, landing perfectly at your feet and almost scarring Leo to death.

And then, you looked up and saw him.

A pair of big, black doe-like eyes hidden behind a fringe of onyx hair staring at you through the fence curiously. The boy was not much older than you, probably around your age. He was wearing a striped football t-shirt with some popular team name.

You fidgeted slightly on the pavement where you were sitting, glancing at the boy shyly like you didn’t know why he was looking at you so intensely. You noticed a small scar on his left cheek, his knees were bruised, splashed with dirt just like his sneakers.

“Can you give me my ball?” he asked suddenly, startling you.

Your eyes widened. Of course he would talk to you, you scolded yourself, he wants his ball back.

When you didn’t answer immediately, he continued, “I kicked my ball here by an accident. Can you give it to me?” He pointed at the object lying at your feet.

You nodded and picked up the ball from the ground. You threw it over the fence, so it landed directly on the other side.

“Thanks.” the black-haired boy said. “I’m Jungkook, by the way. What’s your name?”

“___.” you responded and the boy, Jungkook, grinned at you friendly, showing his bunny-like smile. He looked cute.

“Bye, ___! See you tomorrow!” he beamed and headed back to his house.

Tomorrow. He wanted to meet up with you and what? Play football? You were petrified, as the eight-years-old girl should be after hearing such thing from a boy.

And just like he promised, Jungkook visited you the next day. He took you to that playground behind your new primary school. You came home with bruised legs and splotches of dirt on your skirt, to your mother’s dismay.

You also came home with a content grin plastered on your face and a new friend.

Unexpectedly, Jungkook appeared to be a pleasant company and you found yourself enjoying his boyish bickering while fulfilling the rest of the summer break doing things your old friends would consider inappropriate for a girl.

You never thought you could be friends with someone like Jungkook. He was a boy, for God’s sake, and your eight-years-old-barbie-phase-self absolutely despised boys. But months passed quickly and you both found yourselves stuck to each other sides. Something in your relationship simply clicked.

The neighborhood you grew up in isn’t a suburban area but it definitely seems more peaceful than busy streets of downtown. You pass by local church, miss Kim’s store and the big, luxurious house owned my Gwon family you dreamt of living in when you were a kid.

And then, approximately two hundred meters further, there is your house.

“Here we are.” Jungkook says, pulling up at his parent’s driveway. They left the gate open, anticipating their son’s arrival.

Jungkook hands you your belongings, offering you sheepish smile. “I thought that once you unpack and eat dinner, we could go to the beach together,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Of course, only if you want to.”

You don’t give his proposition a second thought. “I’d love to.”

He grins in response and you take it as a sign to leave and finally meet your parents. From the distance you see your mother in the garden, dressed in her usual clothing – black and red checked shirt and cropped denim pants she wears while gardening.

She doesn’t notice you yet, too busy pulling weeds from her precious tulips. You know her better not to creep behind her like that, so you take a deep breath and shout, “Eomma! It’s me!”

She stands up and twirls around to face you. Her eyes visibly widen, like she actually thought her mind is playing tricks on her and she might have misheard you.

“Good Lord, Y/N, sweetie, is that really you?” She throws away her gloves and jogs up to you, enveloping you immadietly in a bear hug. “I missed you so much. Why didn’t you say anything you’re coming?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” you mumble. “Jungkook took me with him.”

At that, your mother pulls away. She arches her brows. “Jungkookie is home as well?” she asks, earning a nod from you in response. “You’re talking with him again?” Her voice is laced with apparent bewilderment but that’s exactly what you expected her reaction to be like.

Your mother is aware you and Jungkook haven’t been keeping in touch for three long years. She was basically your only source of information about him (besides Twitter) thanks to her close friendship with his parents.

“That’s quite a long story. I will tell you everything later.” you say. Well, maybe not entirely everything. You’re for sure going to miss out the parts you’re not proud of.

Your mother doesn’t press you more about it. Instead, she puts her arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her side. “It’s your lucky day sweetie, because we have your favorite bulgogi for dinner. Honey, come here quick!” she shouts and you chuckle, hearing your father responding with: “What is it again?”.

The door to your house creak open, revealing your flustered dad. His expression morphs into a genuine smile when he spots you. “Is it really my daughter or are my eyes deceiving me?” he asks.

‘’Your eyesight is fine, appa. It’s really me.” You come up and give him a small hug. He was never the affectionate type of parent but once you moved out, he let his facade break a little.

From where you’re standing now, you have a clear view of Jeons’ house. Here, fourteen years ago, sitting on your porch, you met Jungkook for the first time. You see his window upstairs, alligned perfectly with yours. You wonder if he’s already there, inside, unpacking in his blue-painted childhood room.

(What if it isn’t painted blue anymore?)

“Come on, let’s go. You’re probably starving.” your mother says, pulling your mind back to the present.

Walking into your house, all you can think about are his tears-filled eyes when you were bidding him goodbye almost ten years ago in his blue bedroom.

It takes you more or less thirty minutes to reach the bay.

When you were younger, you used to ride there by bikes practically every single day during summer. You loved sitting on the beach and observing people enjoying their time; swimming in the sea, kids building sand castles and their mums trying to relax among childlike chatter and the smell coming from nearby fishmonger’s store.

It was Jungkook who discovered the spot underneath pier. His curiosity only a twelve-year-old can posses led him there one day after school. At first, you were rather reluctant to go and didn’t mirror his excitement but once he actually showed you it, you changed your mind completely.

It was a perfect place to hide from the world. You called it a ‘temple’ because it really felt like no one beside you knew about its existence, and that’s what made it sacred to you. When Jungkook moved away you were left to go there by yourself. Without him, it always felt like it was something missing.

Right now, sitting here feels like you’ve you’ve turned back the time.

It’s like you’re eighteen again, running away from the whole world, starting your own rebellion with a cigarette caught between your lips and sun disappearing behind the horizon. Listening to the songs Jungkooks had saved on his old iPod and catching up with everything that happened during the last few months when he was absent in your life.

When you were eighteen you didn’t even know how to smoke properly, blowing out the fume too quickly and stiffing a cough so Jungkook wouldn’t laugh at you. Now it’s a different story.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you notice how much he’s changed physically over these five years that have passed. Gone is the baby fat on his cheeks, replaced with sculpted jawline and prominent nose. His hair is longer, falling on his forehead. There’s more piercings on his ears, an expensive watch wrapped around his wrist.

He looks breathtaking. It never occurred to you before just how beautiful Jungkook really is up close, when there’s no flashing cameras around and make-up covering every imperfection on his face with concealer.

This is your Jungkook. The same one whose competitive nature never let you win any of his computer games, who called you after their debut showcase with quivering voice, who always treated you as his equal even when other boys were making fun of him for being friends with a girl. Your Jungkook, who’s too good for this world to be treated so unfairly.

“I think Minho is cheating on me.” you blurt out.

It’s been sitting on your tongue for weeks and now you finally let the words slip. You don’t see his reaction but from the sharp intake of breath you assume it’s not something he’s expected to hear from you.

“Few weeks ago I read a message on his phone from some girl asking when he will be free next time,” you continue before you could stop yourself. “He’s been meeting with her alone behind my back this whole time and I didn’t notice anything until now.” A pair of arms wrap around your frame. Jungkook presses a fleeting kiss to the crown of your head. “I don’t even know if that’s true or I’m overreacting but I just can’t understand how he can lie to me one day and the next propose to move in with him.”

You don’t realise you’re crying until you feel Jungkook hugging you closer to him. You burry you face into his chest as sob after sob shakes your body. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispers, stroking your hair. “I’m here.”

Few minutes pass until you calm down, wiping your tear-stained cheeks with your hand. Jungkook offers you a tissue and you thank him with a small smile. You can only imagine how ridiculous you look right now, with smudges of mascara underneath your eyes and red nose. Not a sight for sore eyes.

“I’m sorry. I just needed to get it off my chest.” you say after a moment.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Y/N. If you need to talk about it, I’m here for you. I’m still your friend, right?” Jungkook asks, meeting your eyes.

You nod, although he’s anything but friend for you. “Right.”

Because friends don’t console each other with burning touches on bare skin. They don’t give into carnality and submit to pleasure, putting it before everything else.

From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook’s jaw clenching. “I’m gonna kick his ass when I meet him.”

Before you could stop yourself, you mumble, “He should probably kick yours, too.”

Jungkook visibly stiffens, hearing your words. He avoids your eyes, staring down at his lap instead. You wonder what he’s thinking about now. Does he regret his actions? Do you regret letting it happen? No matter how much you know you did wrong, there’s a part of you longing for more. Because with Jungkook, you felt alive. Minho could never compare.

Reuniting with Jungkook after three years made you realize just how much you needed him back in your life. You actually stopped being mad at him the moment he stood in your room for the first time that night, disheveled and sleepy.

You could love him. Perhaps you’ve always did. But he cannot give you more. Nothing besides bitter-sweet pleasure between the sheets.

It’s Jungkook who speaks first.

“I might not be the best man in the world but I would never, ever hurt you like Minho does,” he says and you know he means it. He stares at you intensely. “You do believe me, right?”

“I do.” you whisper truthfully.

He then leans closer and when you think he might actually kiss you, he places a small peck on your forehead. ‘’Good,” he murmurs, still inches from your lips. “Come on, let’s go. It’s getting late and I can practically hear my mum already complaining she doesn’t have enough time to spend with her son.”

You nod aabsentmindedly at his words.

There’s a tough conversation for you to have once you’ll be back in Seoul again. Finding out about Minho’s lies was a point of no return for you. It made you realise you’ve been on this path with your relationship for a while now, missing signs or not paying enough attention to the details.

But what is even more disturbing to you, is that you didn’t let Jungkook warm your bed out of simple frustration or heartache. You did it because you wanted him. And that thought scares you the most.

The first thing Jungkook hears in the morning when he wakes up is the high-pitched chatter and the clutter of pots coming from the kitchen.

He sighs to himself, staring at his blue ceiling. The clock on his bedside table reads 10am and at this rate, it looks like he won’t be getting any more sleep, not when his mum and soon-to-be sister-in-law are making a fuss downstairs preparing for the party.

The strong smell of homemade food invades his senses as soon as he enters the kitchen. He spots his mum putting something in the oven, her usual red and white polka-dot apron adoring her form. Hyerin is right next to her, busy cutting some vegetables and listening tentatively to her mother-in-law’s babbling.

“Good morning.” Jungkook says in a groggy voice followed by a yawn.

“Morning.” Hyerin quips, flashing him a smile.

Jungkook’s mother barely acknowledges his presence, too busy moving around the kitchen and making sure nothing is burning or overcooking. Feeling the first rumble of his stomach, Jungkook opens the fridge and stares blankly at its contents.

Miss Jeon runs her house by the rule the more, the better when it comes to preparing food for special family occasions. Hence why there’s so many different type of products lined up in front of him, just begging to become a remedy for his empty stomach.

“Nu-uh, don’t even think about it!” she chimes in, closing the fridge in front of Jungkook’s face and crushing his dreams about having egg toasts for breakfast. He stares at her with confused expression. “Order yourself something for breakfast, please. We need kitchen to ourselves right now.”

Knowing better not to argue with his mother, Jungkook sighs in defeat and opens the food delivery app on his phone. He chooses the first option that comes to his mind that won’t take too long to make and slumps down onto the couch.

“Eomma, where’s dad and hyung?” he asks, debating whether to turn on the TV or not. He decides on leaving it silent.

“I sent them to the grocery store. They should be back in two hours,” she responds. “Hyerin-ssi, please make sure to keep an eye on the soup. I’ll be right back!” The door to bathroom slams behind her and Jungkook chuckles under his breath.

“Is she giving you hard time?” he asks Hyerin once he knows his mother cannot hear them.

Hyerin looks up to peek a glance in his direction. “Your mum is a lovely person, really, but she can be… a lot sometimes. Especially when she’s stressed.” she says, smiling coyly.

“Tell me about it.”

She lets out a laugh that quickly dies down when aforementioned woman emerges from the bathroom. Instead of heading straight to the kitchen, she makes her way to Jungkook. “What are you planning to do after breakfast, Jungkookie?”

Jungkook shrugs because honestly, he hasn’t given a thought it yet. “I don’t know. Maybe I can help you with something here.” he proposes, although cutting onions and cabbage is the last thing he would like to do.

Fortunately, the grimace on his mother’s face tells her she’s not quite fond of his proposition. “Oh, no, no, no. We’re perfectly fine on our own with Hyerin-ssi. We don’t need extra pair of hands. Why do you think I told Junghyun to go with dad?” she asks rhetorically with raised eyebrows.

Of course Jungkook knows why. Kitchen is his mother’s kingdom. No one steps a foot there while she prepares food unless she permits it herself. Today she’s even more uncompromising about it because it’s the first time Hyerin parents are meeting Junghyun’s. It’s the matter of making a good impression as the host.

“Maybe you could call Y/N and ask her what her plans are? I’m sure she won’t be very busy.” Jungkook’s mother prompts and he feels like he’s ten again, bored on Saturday and wondering what to do with himself. Then, an idea pops in his mind.

“Yeah. You’re right,” he agrees. “I’ll call her.”

Maybe a literal trip down memory lane is everything he needs to feel like himself again.

As predicted, at first you welcomed his idea with a little bit of qualm, yet you said yes nonetheless.

And now here you are, hanging out together at the playground behind your old primary school. Getting there wasn’t an easy task, it required some parkour abilities and jumping over the fence because the place is apparently being locked on weekends now. Ten years ago it used to be your life estate on Saturdays.

You’re currently sat on a swing, watching Jungkook doing pull ups. You have a nagging suspicion that he chose to go on with his daily workout routine right now on purpose but you’re not better yourself, doing rather poor job at ignoring the way his hoodie rides upwards with every move he makes, revealing his toned abdomen.

“Okay, I’m done.” he grunts, letting go of the bar. He plops down on the other swing next you with a heavy exhale. “How many was it?” he then asks, referring to the number of pull ups you were supposed to keep a track off.

For a moment you forget you’re supposed to answer, eyes focused on Jungkook’s throat as he chugs down the whole water bottle.

“Hmm?” he repeats and you quickly snap out of your trance.

“I lost count.” Truthfully, you didn’t even make an attempt to do so. You were too distracted by the act itself to pay attention to anything else, let alone do basic math. Now you do understand all these girls going crazy when they get a glimpse of his sculpted body.

Jungkook rolls his eyes in response and starts swinging himself back and forth. It you recall correctly, he lost one of his front baby teeth here, jumping off the swing.

“I thought a lot of would change here after so many years. But it looks exactly like I remembered it.” he says, slowing down to a halt.

You nod at his words. Apart from a little painting and renovations done here and there, it’s like it all got stuck in time. You’re about to add that your mother told you the infamous principal Choi is still consistently running the school, but Jungkook doesn’t let you vocalize it.

“Wait,” He stands up suddenly and walks to the seesaw swing. You furrow your brows as he crouches on the ground and attentively observes the object, presumably searching for something. “A-ha! Here it is! I knew it still would be there.” he exclaims excitedly after a few seconds.

Confused, you come up to him. “What are you doing?”

“Look,” he says, pointing at the wooden base of the seesaw. At first glance you don’t notice anything but as you get closer, you see what he meant.

Jinyoung + Y/N = ♡ engraved on the swing.

“Oh my god.” you groan, covering your face in embarrassment.

Jungkook ignores your whining and actually snaps a picture of his finding. “You know what’s actually funny? It was me who did this because you didn’t have enough strength.” He giggles, making your cheeks heat up in bright shade of red. “I stole my dad’s pocket knife for it. Such a shame your love story lasted only a week.”

“I’m not listening to you!” you announce and quickly come back to your previous spot on the swing.

Jungkook doesn’t give up easily though, enjoying tormenting you with your pre-teen love life. He follows you, asking, “Wasn’t he your first kiss as well?” You keep your mouth shut, avoiding his eyes. He then clasps his hands. “Yeah, I remember now. Sixth grade. He kissed you here, am I right?”

You wish you could wipe off that smirk from his face.

“I never liked Jinyoung,” he continues, sitting down next to you on the second swing. “But I always wanted to have that black range rover his dad drove.”

Your face heats up even more at the mere mention of Jinyoung and his dad’s car in one sentence. Jungkook can make fun of your silly crush as much he wants, but he doesn’t know one thing.

That your little infatuation had a sequel.

Taking a deep breath, you lean closer to him and ask, “Wanna know a secret?” He sends you a curious look and nods. You brace yourself for what is about to come. “I lost my virginity at the back of that range rover.”

Jungkook chokes on air. His eyes widen in pure shock and you have to fight an urge to laugh at how ridiculous he looks right now, gaping at you with mouth wide open. “What the fuck, Y/N?! Tell me you’re joking, please.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “I wish but unfortunately, that’s true. We went to the same high school and somehow… our paths crossed together again.” you explain.

“And you decided to fuck him in his dad’s car?”

“No, dumbass. We were dating. For whole six months.”

Jungkook sends you a look. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s not like we were talking back then,” you reply sheepishly, toying with the edge of your sweater. Suddenly it’s hard for you to meet his scrutinizing stare. “You stopped responding to my messages a little before I started dating him.”

The atmosphere between you tenses. Jungkook’s expression morphs from astonishment into guilt and you curse yourself for ruining the mood.

Jinyoung is just a mere memory, one of many mistakes you made during your teen years. He wasn’t anyone special to you anymore, he never had been. Not even when he deflowered you on the backseat of his dad’s car one night after some party. You were too drunk to care and too inexperienced to do more than just lie there and take it. With your skirt hiked up and blouse mid-open, wondering if Jinyoung was just as clueless as you when it came to sex or he simply didn’t know how to pleasure women.

What Jungkook doesn’t have to know, is that you jumped into the relationship with Jinyoung to fill the void your best friend created three years ago with unanswered messages and never returned calls. You were lonely in high school, you couldn’t manage to form a close bond with anyone after Jungkook. You hoped Jinyoung was good enough for a replacement.

“What about you then?” you ask to clear the atmosphere. “I told you my secret, now you reveal me yours.”

To loosen up the tension a bit, you decide to play the quid pro quo card. Partially out of curiosity, but mostly because you feel like you’ve exposed yourself too much in a short period of time. It will only be fair if he gives you the same in return.

Jungkook smiles bashfully. For the person who had done many dirty things to you before, he sure looks shy now. “I was nineteen as well. She was a friend of a friend, four years older than me. We met a party, flirted a little and one thing led to another,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve never seen here after that. She tried to contact me but I just… I didn’t want to commit to something more.”

Is he ready for more now? you wonder silently. The question stays at the tip of your tongue though. You can’t wish for more when everything he’s able to provide is a few, quick moments of blissful relief between the sheets when sun goes down.

But what if you want more? What if you’ve always, subconsciously, felt like you belonged together but universe decided to split you apart? What if you’ve always been in love with your best friend?

The realization hits you like a tsunami. All these years, you spent denying your feelings for him. And when there’s a chance for you act on them, you back away.

Because even if he’s now inches from you, he seems out of your reach.

By the time you gulp down your third glass of champagne, Jungkook’s brother’s engagement party is in full swing.

Junghyun and Hyerin didn’t invite many people to celebrate. It’s a small, family gathering. Your parents were invited thanks to the almost twenty-years-long friendship with Jeons, which started when you moved into the new house next to theirs.

Jungkook looks painfully handsome dressed in black suit pants and emerald green button-up shirt. His raven hair is styled the way you like the most, parted in the middle and revealing his forhead. You, on the other hand, are wearing a simple, long-sleeved navy blue dress you’ve had on multiple occasions before but it’s still your top go-to garment when you have nothing else to put on.

“Have I told you look great tonight, buttercup?”

Turning around, you’re met with Junghyun’s smiling face. Of course he would approach you with his childhood nickname for you that used to make your heart flutter.

Besides his hair color, there’s little resemblance between him and Jungkook when it comes to appearance. While Jungkook took a lot after their father, Junghyun is almost a cardboard copy of their mum. Even their characters are two polar opposites. Junghyun is the more outgoing, boisterous type but Jungkook still tends to act introverted towards strangers.

And paradoxically, it’s the younger brother who’s making a career in entertainment industry.

“Shouldn’t you be complementing your fiancée instead?” you ask, accepting another glass of Martini Junghyun hands you.

“As you can see, she’s busy being interrogated by my mother.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Hyerin nodding along to whatever miss Jeon is telling her right now, expressively gesturing. It’s her brand to do so. Your father says that she talks with her mouth and hands simultaneously.

“I’m sure Hyerin-ssi went through it already when they were preparing food together earlier today.” you joke.

Junghyun chuckles, having a seat next to you. He sends quick, supportive thumbs-up to to his girlfriend when she glances at him from the spot she occupies on the couch. You can’t help but coo at the sight.

“So,” you quip, “when’s the wedding?”

“Next year in August,” Junghyun answers. “You’re obviously invited as well.”

You smirk around the champagne glass. “I wouldn’t miss seeing my childhood crush getting married.”

Junghyun laughs at that, throwing his head back. After a moment he adds, “It’s funny though, how you were gushing over me when the boy who had heart eyes for you was right under your nose.”

You arch a brow. “You mean Jungkook? He had a crush on me?”

“If course he did. You were the only girl who talked to him and moreover, you always helped him with his homework and you know how bad he was at algebra,” Junghyun says, sending you a knowing look. That much is true. Jungkook did suck at Math and could not, for crying out loud, interact with girls. “If he could, he would’ve taken you with him to Seoul all those years ago.”

Your eyes involuntarily drift to aforementioned boy, standing with his father in the kitchen. They are looking at something your dad is showing them on his phone, probably pictures of the car he recently renovated.

(A classic Chevrolet Camaro 1969. For all you know it looked like Damon’s car in Vampire Diaries.)

You can see Jungkook’s eyes growing big as he stares down at the screen. Obviously, he’s genuinely amazed with what he sees. You can only hope your dad won’t try persuading him to sell his luxurious Mercedes and buy something vintage instead.

“Why didn’t ever tell me that?” you ask, your voice quivery. You take another gulp of your drink to soothe the emotions bubbling in your chest and you barely succeed.

Junghyun shrugs his shoulders in response. “Would it change anything? You were thirteen-year-old kids back then and he was moving out to another city to make his big dream come true.”

Pursing your lips, you nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

You don’t know exactly what Jungkook feels for you right now. Back when you were teenagers, it was just a fleeting attraction. Perhaps he thought about you this way because you were a girl who liked spending time with him.

“I know him giving up your friendship was a dick move but you have to believe me that this boy has been really lost these past three years. Now he’s trying to find himself again, to become a better version of himself,” Junghyun remarks. “He needs his best friend to help him do so.”

Turning once again to look at Jungkook, you catch him staring right back at you. He flashes a cheeky grin and completely fails winking at you. You’re lips automatically stretch into a smile seeing his goofiness. You like that side of him. It suits him.

“I think I need to go save my fiancee from my mother.” Junghyun whispers, catching you off guard. He follows your line of sight and smirks to himself. “Go talk to him. I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind snatching Jungkook for a bit.” Unlike his younger brother, he lands a perfect wink.

Like beckoned, Jungkook approaches you when Junghyun leaves the table. “Aren’t you a little sad he’s getting married, buttercup?” It’s the first thing that night he says to you.

Fighting an urge to snort, you ask, “Aren’t you tired of being jealous I chose Junghyun-oppa as the object of my affection and not you when we were kids?”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, manifesting his irritation. You relish in it even more now, having the knowledge he used to pin after you. He ignores your witty retort though completely.

“Want to get out of here for a while?”

Your heart skips a beat. “Where?” you blurt out, looking around the room for any place comfortable for you to stay in for a while.

“Isn’t it obvious?” When you raise your brows in question he adds, “To your house, of course.”

“But–”

He shooshes you with a finger on his lips. “No buts, Miss Grumpy. It’s been ages since I’ve been in your room. Do you still have that Edward Cullen’s poster above your bed?” he asks and this time, you actually land a punch to his arm.

Downing the rest of your champagne, you get up from the chair. “Shall we?”

“Ladies first.”

“I still can’t understand why did you really hang a poster of some pale dude above your bed.”

You’re climbing up the stairs to your room, and Jungkook is in the middle of his rant about Why Twilight Has Ever Been A Thing. You’re ten seconds from pointing out his teenage female crushes one by one, starting with IU just to rile him up.

“It’s just weird for me,” he huffs upon taking one last step to the top.

You whip your head to send him a glare. “Do you really want me to say the same thing about your fans worshipping your posters?” you ask, eyes narrowed. “You’re out of their reach just like Edward Cullen was out of mine when I was fourteen.”

He points his finger at you. “But he’s a fictional vampire and I’m real.”

“Exactly!”

You leave him with that, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and open the door to your room.

“So you did get rid of him after all.”

Nothing really much changed in your childhood room since you moved out four years ago. Your walls are still painted in lavender but the posters are long gone, much to Jungkook’s dismay. There is a bookshelf with all your favorite positions (Twilight included) standing directly next to the desk which is now pearl white, just like the rest of your furniture.

Before you can say anything, Jungkook plops down onto your bed. “You still got them though,” he murmurs and you glance in his direction, waiting for him to elaborate on what he means. He raises his finger to the ceiling. “Those yellow stars that shine when it’s dark. You have the same in your apartment in Seoul.”

“Oh, yeah,” you awkwardly reply, looking up. “I put them there so I can have something reminding me of home.”

Truth to be told, you are a sentimental person. The very best evidence of your heart’s weakness is the corkboard with old photos in your apartment. As cheesy as it might sound, it gives you a sense of comfort.

Jungkook hums at that and pats the spot next to him with his hand. “Come lay with me.” he proposes.

“Why?” you ask, although you sit down on the bed anyway.

“Because I want you to,” he grumbles and places his palm on your stomach, pushing you to lay flat. “There you go.”

It reminds you of old days, how you used to lay down with him like that on your bed and just do nothing, simply staring at the constellations on your ceiling in silence or speaking about trivial things.

Life was much easier back then, when there was no cameras flashing around and capturing every move your best friend makes. When you were just two kids with head full of dreams and dragging on forever doing your Chemistry homework. When you were each other’s beginning and end, yin and yang, sun and moon and the starry sky above you.

It slips off your tongue eventually, what have you been meaning to ask him since the beginning of your illicit affair. And now it seems like you’ve finally reached the point of no return. “What are we, Jungkook?”

You turn your head to the side, staring at his right profile. His chiseled jawline, black lashes ghosting the skin of your cheeks. He opens his eyes slowly, focusing his sight on you but you quickly look away.

“You know damn well that we aren’t just friends anymore. Maybe we’ve never been,” You sit up straight from your position, finally gaining enough courage to face the matter. “You can’t play with my emotions like that and expect me not to catch any feelings for you. You’re confusing me so much, Jungkook. I don’t think I can go on like that any more.”

You feel his palm on the small of your back, comforting and bringing you a brief wave of solace. He follows suit, getting up from his position as well. “Look at me,” he murmurs and you jerk your head to the side. You don’t want him to see you like this again - vulnerable and exposed. “Please, ___.”

It’s his pleading voice that makes you succumb to his request. Hesitantly, you accept his touch on your cheek and meet his doe eyes, two black charcoals shining in the dim lighting of your childhood room. He has the same look in them as you saw the first time he kissed you. If the teeth worrying his bottom lip are anything to go by, you could mistake it for nervousness.

“I shouldn’t feel that way about you,” Jungkook finally says. “I shouldn’t wake up with an urge to text you because if I didn’t, my day would be incomplete. I shouldn’t picture us doing mundane things like cooking ramen in your apartment or picking you up from work,” he recites, voice laced with an emotion you can’t quite put the name on. Or maybe you do.

It’s longing.

“I shouldn’t imagine us being together because I can’t give you all of these things, ___.” Lone tear slides down your cheek and he catches it with his thumb. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You’re shaking your head, because no, he shouldn’t apologize for the world’s unfairness, for wanting to have more of you, of freedom. “Jungkook–” you start but he’s quick to interrupt you.

“I told you this before and I’m repeating it now: you deserve so much better than what I can give you, ___.”

He tries to distance himself, to back away and leave because that’s what he’s a master of but you beat him to it, extending your index finger and poking him right in the middle of his chest. “Now you listen to me, Jeon Jungkook,” you urge, not caring about your tear-strained cheeks and shaky voice. “I’m a very stubborn person, and you know that. If I wanted to leave you, I would’ve kicked you out of my apartment the day your drunk ass stormed back into my life.”

He smiles sheepishly, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “And why didn’t you do that?” he asks, his palm not leaving your cheek.

“Because more than anything, I’ve never stopped caring about you,” It’s almost a whisper. “No matter how hurt I was, I couldn’t let you slip away from my reach again.”

And then he’s leaning even closer, lips almost touching yours yet it feels like it’s not enough. It’ll never be. “___,” he murmurs your name softly, breath smelling of champagne hot on your skin. You feel dizzy, drunk on him. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You both know it’s a white lie, that as soon as you’re back in Seoul the reality will brutally kick you in but you let yourself for a moment indulge in this fantasy – that you’re his and he’s yours. You’re on the opposite sides of the spectrum, yet you cannot be separated.

And you need to hear him say it.

“Promise?”

Jungkook seals it with a kiss, the one that leaves you breathless and pliant in his arms, blindly reaching for him and pulling him closer with your hands on his neck. “Promise.” he whispers, eyes trained on yours.

For now, it has to be enough.

Then, as if he can’t hold himself back any longer, he dives in for more, hands finding purchase on your hips. He’s tugging you closer until you’re perched on top of his thighs, feeling the hard flesh flexing underneath your weight. It feels familiar; that funny, pulsing sensation building up in your core when he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip to meet yours. It makes you tangle your fingers in his black locks and pull, just to hear him groan into your mouth.

But there’s another pressing matter on your mind and before you can go any further, you’re pulling away from his lips with a light smack. Jungkook doesn’t take the hint though, anchoring your hips over his crotch.

“Wait,” you mumble in between kisses, biting down the moan that almost tears from your throat when he uses the grip on your body to grind down on him. “What about the party? What if parents will come home and–”

“Shhh,” He silents you with a peck on your quivery lips. “They won’t. The party has barely started. And even if they do come home, you’ll just have to be quiet, right?” Something about his tone makes you nibble on your bottom lip to suppress a whimper. He sees it, and leans down to kiss your throat. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, angling your neck to give him more access. He sucks a mark right above your sternum and it almost distracts you from asking him one more thing. “Jungkook,”

He licks a stripe up the column of your throat and looks at you, lips shining with saliva. “What is this?”

Despite the urge to kiss him stupid right here and there, you cup his cheeks and repeat the same question that led you to this very moment. “What are we?”

Jungkook looks like a living sin with his blown out pupils and disheveled hair yet his gaze is nothing less than affectionate. He brings one of your hands to his lips and places a kiss on your knuckles. “Whatever you want us to be,” he responds, sincere. “You know I never give up without trying.”

You nod, a small smile dancing on your features. “I know.”

He captures your mouth in another kiss, like he’s trying to prove his statement with actions; sucking, biting, kneading your supple flesh just right. Suddenly there’s too many clothes separating you and your fingers grip his silk shirt in faint attempt to satisfy your yearning to feel him fully.

As if reading your mind, Jungkook stops mid-decorating your neck with yet another red mark. “Get up and take off your dress for me, baby.” he says, all soft but still demanding enough to make your knees wobble. As much as you love the dominant side of him, you’re enjoying this new-found softness of his.

You comply to his request in an instant, raising from his lap to a standing position. Your fingers travel to your backside and pull the zipper down. Your dress falls on the floor with light thud, leaving you in your underwear. It’s matching but not your best pick nonetheless; simple black lace bra and cotton panties. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, two antsy hands gently pulling you closer to him until you’re in between his thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a feathery kiss on your belly. You let out a shaky sigh, trying to avert your gaze away from his burning stare but he destroys your attempt. “Don’t shy away from me now.” A squeeze to your hip is a warning. You give in, looking down just to see him smirking right back at you.

“I won’t if you take off your clothes as well.” you challenge despite your trembling voice.

He gets up, towering over your figure. “Undress me then.” Your shaky fingers reach for the buttons, opening one by one. He watches your movements attentively, lets you run your palms over his broad chest. His silky shirt joins your dress on the floor as you fumble with his belt buckle.

There’s something intimate about this moment. It’s not the first time you’re seeing each other naked yet everything feels new, unchartered. You’re exploring each other again, mapping your bodies with subtle touches and observant eyes.

Jungkook strips off his slacks, steps off his shoes along with socks. He sends you a cheeky grin. “Now we’re even.” He swallows your giggle with his mouth, not wasting any more time and pressing you against his body.

You moan when you feel his erection touching your hip. He uses it as an opportunity to slither his tongue inside, each experienced lick making it hard for you to follow his tempo. You go lax in his hold, letting him snap your bra open. He maneuvers your body until you’re laying on your back and he’s straddling your waist.

“So pretty,” he marvels, palms caressing your breasts. Your nipples harden under his ministrations, breathy moan escaping your lips when he pinches them. “Such a pretty baby.” he repeats, lost in touching every part of you he can reach.

Jungkook peppers kisses on your belly, hands travelling to your thighs. He leans to kiss you on your panty-clad mound. You mewl at the sensation, unconsciously sliding your legs wide open and giving him more access to your center. “Can I eat you out?” he asks, continuing mouthing over your pussy. When you don’t answer him in time, he slaps your thigh in reprimand. ‘’Hmm?”

“Please,” you whimper, mind send into overdrive. Minho rarely went down on you and you almost forgot how good it feels to have someone’s mouth on you.

Jungkook grasps your underwear and pulls it down your legs, revealing your dripping pussy to his hungry eyes. His breath tickles your folds, sheets grasped tightly between your fingers. Jungkook kitten-licks your pulsing clit, eyes trained on your face to see every small reaction he emits from you.

“Jungkook,” you keen, hips rising to chase after his mouth.

He nibbles on your thigh playfully, flashing you a sly smile. “What do you want, doll?”

It’s the ‘doll’ that makes you whine pitifully at him. He relishes in it, sucking your clit into his mouth as an apology for his teasing. You whimper, “Please, I want more. Give me more.”

‘’Demanding, are we?” he snorts but complies anyway. No matter how much he loves hearing you beg, he enjoys eating you out more. He covers you your pussy with his mouth, tongue swiping over your sensitive numb. He licks up clean your soaking slit, not missing a single drop of your pearly arousal.

He groans at the taste and throws your legs over his shoulders. He pulls you even closer to him until his face is burried between thighs. Your fingers wander to his hair on their own accord, threading into his silky strands. After a harsh suck he abuses your clit with, you pull. It spurs him on even more, a groan mouthed against your pussy causing even more slick to drip down your opening.

“Tell me how good it feels.” he mumbles, glancing up at your face. You focus your sight on him, his chin is shining with translucent substance, hair tangled and sweaty against his forehead.

“So good,” you mewl.

“Yeah? That good?” Jungkook asks, tone almost mocking. You’re now only nodding in response, your cunt pulsing with a need to release. “Can you cum for me like this, baby?” he mouths along your folds.

“Please, please,” You’re nearly crying, tears pricking in the corners because the pleasure is too much to bear. Your clit throbs, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Oh my god–Kook!”

“Good girl,” He rewards you with two slender fingers pushing inside your pussy, searching for that one stop that makes your insides flutter. “My pretty baby, tastes so sweet for me.” he rasps before licking a stripe up your cunt.

His digits slide even deeper into you. It sounds sinfully wet but you don’t care, accepting whatever he gives you. And give does he, plunging his fingers repeatedly inside and flicking his tongue against your bud – a perfect symphony to finally send you over the edge.

“There you go,” he murmurs, feeling your walls tightening around his fingers. More juices leak out of your hole and he drinks them up eagerly. “My pretty girl doing so good for me.”

He prolongs your orgasm until you stop him with a breathy whimper of, “’m sensitive.”

Jungkook gets up to hover over your shaking body. He opens your mouth with a deep, wet kiss. You taste your arousal on his tongue, feeling no longer foreign and eliciting a moan out of you. His length presses against your hip, hard and straining his briefs. With a surge of boldness you reach down, rolling his underwear off his body. His cock slaps against his abdomen, curved tip leaking precum.

Nibbling on your bottom lip you watch as his hand encloses around his member, giving it a few pumps. He groans, head thrown back. Your eyes focus on the sweat dripping down his sculpted body all the way from his neck down his chest. Jungkook is a sight for sore eyes– slim waist, toned thighs. Everything about him is mesmerizing.

He settles between your legs, cock prodding at your folds. “You sure?” he asks, searching for your eyes.

You don’t answer him verbally this time and he doesn’t press about it. Instead you open your legs even wider, a small smile dancing on your features as you nod. You’re welcoming the stretch with a drawn out moan. He pushes himself inside slowly, until he’s flushed against your pelvis, his neatly trimmed pubic hair tickling your skin.

“Fuck,” he curses, hands coming up to grip your sides so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave fingertip bruises. “You’re so perfect, baby. Made for me.” He leans to press a kiss on your mouth, tongue lazily lacing with yours. It’s messy, saliva trickling down your chin but you don’t care, reciprocating with vigor.

Jungkook pulls away and places one last peck on your cheek. “Ready?” he murmurs.

You couldn’t be more than. “Ready.”

He picks up the pace, blindly reaching for your legs to make you encircle his waist. You’ve never fucked in this position before, with him so close to your face you could practically taste the sweat dripping off his body on your lips. He relishes in having you like this, palms caressing every square inch of your flesh.

‘’God, I missed having you like this, doll,” he grunts. He props his hand next to your head and it gives him leverage to hammer himself faster into your cunt. “Do you like how I’m fucking you?” he asks and you keen in response. He doesn’t seem to be satisfy with your reaction. “Too fucked out to speak?” You hear him chuckling evily into your ear.

“Shit, Jungkook,” you whimper, throwing your hands over his neck. His skin his hot and slippery under your touch. He rams himself even harder into you, hips never losing the rhythm. You feel the pressure building up in your abdomen already, reducing you to mewling mess underneath him. “I-I love it. So, so much.” you stammer out.

“Yeah?” he prompts, fingers slipping down your belly to toy with your clit. “Love how my cock is fucking you?”

“Yes, yes–fuck,” you chant. “So good.”

He loses himself in you, in the way how tight you feel around his cock. He tells you this, spits filthy obscenities into your ear and punctuates it with deep strokes inside you. He wants to have you like this forever, keep you to himself and hide from the whole world.

It’s selfish of him to think that way but he can’t help it, not when you’re moaning so pretty when he tightens his grip on your waist and rails you harder into the mattress. Not when you’re there when he needs you, when you’re his lifeboat bringing him back to the land (sanity).

He wants to see you smile for him, because of him. Wants to call you his. And that’s what he asks you to, begs in stranded voice. “Say you’re mine,” You’re shaking your head, tears threatening to spill from your eyes but he needs to hear you say it even if it’ll be just this once. “Please, tell me you’re mine, ___.”

Your whole body shudders from pleasure. You open your quivery lips but nothing comes out of it except for a broken whimper of his name. “J-jungkook–”

“Please,” he pleads once again, entangling your hands from around his neck and pinning them over your head instead. “Say nobody will ever make you feel this way. Fuck you until you cry,” he continues, fingers circling your nub with ferocity. “Fucking say it!”

You sob, pleasure rippling through your body and throwing you off the edge. “I’m yours,” you whisper hoarsly, staring into his dark orbs. “Yours, yours, yours!” you repeat, creaming his cock with your release.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans and you don’t know it’s because of your confession or your walls constracting around his member. Maybe it’s the mixture of both. “You’re mine just like I’m yours.” he spits as the orgasm approaches him, shuddering through his whole body. He comes with a call of your name, spilling himself inside.

You whimper at the sensation, your arousal mixing with his and dripping from your hole. Jungkook lets go of your wrists, pressing a peck on each of them. His palm cups your cheek and he leans down to kiss you. It’s lazy, your mouths barely moving but it feels good anyway.

He’s in the middle of pulling his softening cock out of your core when you hear your mum’s voice.

“___, honey, are you here?” She’s downstairs, approximately forty-five seconds from reaching your room.

Jungkook sends you a panicked look. “Go lock my door!” you hiss.

He obliges quickly, naked butt jogging across the room to twist the key. You can’t help but giggle as he tiptoes to the bed again. He puts a hand over your mouth and murmurs, “Shhh, be quiet.”

Your mum’s heels clink on the stairs. Few seconds later she’s knocking on your door. “___, are you there?” she asks. You’re praying she won’t twist the handle because in that case you’ll have a lot of awkward explaining to do. Fortunately, she gives up. “I guess they went for a walk.”

By ‘they’ she means you and Jungkook who’s currently stifling a laugh against your shoulder. “Well, maybe not for a walk but something equally energy-draining.” he whispers. You elbow him in the stomach, making him chuckle even harder.

When you hear the door to your house closing, you let out a breath of relief. “I knew fucking in my childhood bedroom wasn’t a good idea.”

Jungkook smirks. “You sure about that?” he teases, squeezing your hip. It makes you roll your eyes but you don’t hide the smile on your face afterwards anyway.

Jungkook reaches for your panties and rolls you onto your back, carefully cleaning you up and then himself. He tucks you beneath the covers, encircling your body with his arm. You relish in the heat radiating of him, pressing your cheek right where his heart beats.

“You’ve never told me what would be my biography’s title.” Jungkook says after a moment.

You smile to yourself, fingertips drawing patterns on his skin absentmindedly. “I’d call it ‘Lost Star’.” you answer.

“Because I’m a troublesome celebrity?” he chuckles and you shake your head.

“Well, of course you can interpret it like that but for me it has more of a metaphorical sense,” you explain. “You’re a star, like those on the sky, which got lost and came to Earth instead. That’s why you’re so special. Because you’re out of this world.”

“I’m no special,” Jungkook grumbles, pouting.

You sit up from your position to look him in the eyes. “You’re wrong, Jeon Jungkook. And I think I’m not the only person who thinks the same,” you urge. He meets your gaze and you realise how young he looks right now. Young and boyish. “You make thousands of people smile because of your music. That’s a special ability to me.”

He flashes you a small smile. “I’ve never thanked you for believing in me from the very beginning.” he says, cupping your cheek in his palm.

“Always.”

You drift off to sleep with his voice humming softly in your ears.

[4 months later]

“Bangtan Sonyeondan are currently at the Incheon International Airport, leaving for their upcoming world tour. Their first show will be held this Saturday in Los Angeles and–”

You walk into the living room and sit on the sofa, staring at the pictures Korean press took of Jungkook and his bandmates while they were departing to US. They are dressed in their casual clothing and you know the fans are going to freak out seeing Jungkook’s hair has gotten long enough to tie it in a man bun. You’re almost sure the news have already spread on Twitter.

The TV is too big for your liking but Jungkook insisted on buying it anyway. You can almost see the pimple on his cheek he woke up with this morning. It makes you smile involuntarily.

Rest of the design in his–now yours as well– apartment was mainly your idea. He bought it without telling you because he knew you would freak out. And you did, obviously, call him crazy. But he didn’t mind. Told you he needed a space for himself for a very long time and now he has someone to share it with.

The house feels empty without him. It’s too spacious for one person and when he’s not around, you feel like intruder. But you’ve put on your big girl shoes this morning after a passionate round of love making and teary-eyed goodbyes. You won’t slip them off until he will come home to you in two months.

He promised he would show you Paris and London. You know he will keep that promise, although you aren’t sure you’ll be able to make it with your new job. After breaking up with Minho, Jungkook encouraged you to try sending your drafts to different publishing companies. And one of them responded positively.

You check your phone–your smiling face meeting you on the lockscreen. Jungkook’s smooching your cheek, but prying eyes wouldn’t be able to tell it’s him from that angle. His last text message is from fifteen minutes ago.

[5:55pm] jungkook:

We’re departing in 20 minutes

I’m missing you already so much:(

You reply, although he’s probably fast asleep like he always does during flying.

[6:01pm] me:

Miss u too!!

And you mean it. You’re missing him when he’s at his dance practice, when he’s in the studio. But it has to be enough for now.

The dates he takes you for have to be in the confines of your apartment. You can’t go for a walk and hold his hand or kiss him in public. He said you needed to wait for the tour to end to discuss publicly announcing your relationship. You’re wondering what’s better: forever hiding or being judged for every step you take.

You’re a strong girl, he once told you. And you’ll continue being one. For the two teenagres on the beach smiling to the camera in the framed photo next to your TV.

However long it takes.

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