#I still open incognito tabs to listen to them

[funeralgreys]

does anyone else still have really complex feelings about atl

[anincompletelist]

[ vol i | vol ii | fic rec fridays ]

hi all! :D happy december! I've read so many amazing fics this past month and the tbr list just keeps on growing! I wanted to share some here so they don't get lost in the shuffle!

as always, please remember to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed the fic or show support in other ways, and be kind! mind the tags and if you come across something you dislike, please kindly (and quietly) move on.

that said, happy reading and enjoy! <3

in no particular order --

(i would stay forever if you said) don't go | @coffeecatsme | T+ | 6k

The words echo in his head, unbidden. The words from another life, practically another universe, shoved inside the small walls of a gilded cage, hidden in a room in London with shuttered windows and locked doors. A boy’s voice Henry still remembers ten years later, when he doesn’t quite remember what he had for lunch the day before. A boy’s voice on a phone that understood him better than every member of his family, even an ocean, a continent, three thousand miles away. A boy’s voice that told him in no uncertain terms that it was okay if he wasn’t okay, that allowed him to pave a path until he was. To open a new shelter in New York City, Henry needs to interview a host of potential lawyers to hire. He doesn't expect one of them to be the boy that saved his life ten years ago.

(mind the tags!)

a rich and complex tapestry | @everwitch-magiks | E | 8k

When Alex first hooks up with Henry, he's expecting a fun one-night-stand and maybe the occasional booty call. He does not expect to get so completely pulled into Henry’s orbit that it forces him to reevaluate everything he thought he knew about his sexuality. And he's not sure if it makes it better, or way worse, that Henry is actually a professional at all this stuff — what are the odds that Alex would hook up with the one guy on campus who hosts his own radio show about sex? 'Sleeping With Henry' is about to gain one devoted listener.

outta luck to spend | potentiallyunloveable | T+ | 9k

“Nora ignorin’ ya?” a voice says from beside him, and Henry startles, turns to his left, is suddenly frozen. The man who’s slid into the seat next to him, silently, without Henry noticing, is quite possibly the most beautiful man Henry’s ever seen in his life. He’s got the widest smile, sweet dimples, soft brown skin and impossibly long eyelashes. He’s wearing a fucking Stetson, and Henry feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him. Or: Henry (lost, hopeless) meets Alex (bright, hopeful), in a bar in Texas.

(mind the tags!)

everything's growing in our garden | @matherines | T+ | 7k

That night, in the safety of his hotel room on the outskirts of the Olympic Village, Henry couldn’t catch his breath. He coughed and coughed, feeling like he was choking on nothing, but there was a scratching sensation in his throat that he just couldn’t shake – until a single blue petal flew past his lips, landing in the porcelain bowl of the sink. After an hour of painstaking Googling, he learns that it’s a Texas bluebonnet. He also learns what the fact that he’s coughing up petals means – the beginning stages of Hanahaki Disease. Rare, but not unheard of, according to the NHS website he browses in an incognito tab. Common in royal bloodlines (thank you, inbreeding). "Only curable if the afflicted’s love is requited with a declaration," he reads, and slams his laptop closed with a bitter laugh, wet with tears. "A surgical procedure removing the afflicted’s capacity for love may be performed if the love remains unrequited. Otherwise, the condition is terminal." So, then. He has no chance.

ocean waves | seafloor | E | 10k

Henry Fox wakes up with a toothache one morning, and has a lot of feelings about certain things for days afterwards.

while you were sleeping (I fell in love) | @kill8a | M | 3k

As their relationship progresses, Alex notices that Henry’s sleeping habits start to progress as well. Notably, more naps, less insomnia, and a knack for falling asleep at any hour of the day.

So I Will Weather The Storm | @sparklepocalypse | E | 9k

They’re in the air twenty minutes before the next report comes in, this time over their headsets. “Patient is located on the eastern side of Sgòr Gaoith. He reports a sudden snow squall came up, and he lost his footing and took a fall. He’s conscious and reports no major injuries, but he’s stuck on a ledge and can’t make it back to the trail. Patient is wearing a red jacket and a black knit cap and states his name is – ” there’s a burst of static over the radio. “Please repeat the patient’s name,” Henry says into the headset mic as Schlosser programs the mountain’s location into the GPS. There’s a bit more static, and then the dispatcher states, “Alexander Claremont-Diaz.” (Or, a movieverse canon divergent AU wherein Henry is in the RAF and Cakegate still takes place, but the PR campaign doesn't happen – and two months after Cakegate, Alex does something dumb on a mountain in Scotland.)

crawl | ironwords | E | 6k

“Well,” Alex says. He swallows, mouth dry. Closes his eyes, takes the hand not in Henry’s and runs it along his tummy, up and up to his bottom rib and then up over that as well. The skin is soft, but the bones under them are hard, firm under Alex’s palm; his fingers dance over the spaces and grooves, feeling along the edges of bone and dipping into the empty space between. Deep breath: in, out. In again, hold it for a few seconds, then out. Then: “I want to, like. Be in you.” Oh wow. Nice one, Alex. Awesome phrasing. Fucking great job.

'til the walls did crumble and | @ninzied | E | 5k

So much for using the wrong fork at dinner. He’s pretty sure this is a thousand times worse. Hundred-thousand? Nora could give him the exact number. Also, he’s pretty sure there’s still buttercream on his ass. (Or, Alex has his bisexual awakening in a bathroom at Buckingham Palace, and also finds leftover cake in Henry’s hair. The two things are not not related.)

Moon Bride (To Have and To Hold) | satinbirds | M | 7k

When the man is brought before him, it’s as if the whole world stops. Clad in delicate gossamer, his apparent frailty is accentuated by the sheer fabric. It is likely a cheap attempt to entice him, yet it only elicits displeasure from the king. He already wishes to dress this fragile figure in the veil of his people, cover him from invidious and lustful eyes.

It's Called Tact, Fuck-Rag! | @largepeachicedtea | E | 12k

Texas had been an odd choice, some might say. Henry thinks it's perfect. College is a time to go crazy, after all. (A Scream AU)

(mind the tags!)

Aftercare | @whimsymanaged | M | 2k

When Alex has an intense hookup without aftercare, he finds himself on his best friend Henry’s doorstep in desperate need of looking after.

--

that's all for now!! hoping to get some more free time this month to read once I finish up some wips! be kind to one another this holiday season, and happy reading! :D

-- sarah / anincompletelist xx

[butchyeons]

break me apart, put me together again

2yeon first time trying petplay… yay

read on ao3

warnings/tags: puppy play, mommy kink, light bdsm, sex toys, riding crop, spanking, collars, rope, anal plug, degradation, edging, orgasm denial, aftercare

i <3 puppy jeongyeon ok anyways. hope you enjoy!!

minors dni!

———

It all started because Nayeon lost her laptop charger. Again.

She needed to get some important documents sent to Mina as soon as possible, but with no laptop charger and a dead laptop, she was… well, screwed.

She groaned as she dug through her and Jeongyeon’s bedroom, turning over everything in her path for her charger- but no dice. The charger was gone, meaning she either left it at her now closed office, or over at Momo’s place.

Just great.

Jeongyeon was taking a shower, finally away from her work desk. Nayeon sees this as the perfect opportunity to get the documents over to Mina. She pads over to the bathroom, knocking on the door before peaking her head in.

“Baby, I can’t find my laptop charger.” She says, a bit loud so Jeongyeon can hear her over the water. “I need to use your computer really quick.”

Jeongyeon pokes her head out from behind the shower curtain, an annoyed expression painting her face.

“Again? Nayeon, this is like the third time this month.” Jeongyeon says, her tone not having any real bite.

“I’m sorry. It’s either at the office or at Momo’s. But I promise I’ll be quick!”

Jeongyeon rolls her eyes, reaching up to push a wet strand of hair out of her face.

“Yah, just don’t mess with anything I have open. I’m working on a new song, and I don’t want to lose my progress.” She says, disappearing back into the shower.

“I won’t, baby! Just logging into my work cloud. Thank you, love you!” Nayeon says quickly, closing the door.

Nayeon quickly heads down the hallway and into Jeongyeon’s office, taking a seat at her girlfriend’s computer. She quickly swipes the mouse, getting rid of the screensaver- a lovely picture of the two of them on vacation in Jeju- and moves to go open a new tab to open her office cloud.

But that’s when she notices the open incognito tab.

Nayeon quirks an eyebrow. She’s never really been one to pry into Jeongyeon’s business- she trusts her fully, she had no need to go snooping. But she can’t help but be curious. She pauses, listening to make sure the shower water is still running- it is- before clicking to open the tab.

What she sees makes her cheeks burn.

Jeongyeon was looking at… collars. Leashes. Dog ears. On a sex shop website.

Jeongyeon had never mentioned it to her before, much less even implied it. She was almost always the dominant one of the two, but their sex life was… more on the vanilla side comparatively. They had a few toys that they loved to use, but it never delved into… that. Not that Nayeon had a problem with it- Jeongyeon took very good care of her and her needs- this was just new.

Before Nayeon lets herself wander any further, she hears the shower cut off. Quickly she goes back to the regular tabs, opening her work cloud to access the documents she had to get sent over to Mina.

Right as she presses the send button on her email, she hears Jeongyeon emerge from the bathroom, humming. She stands up from the computer, her mind still stuck on what she saw, and walks out into the hallway. Jeongyeon pokes her head out from their bedroom, her wet hair clinging to her forehead, cheeks red from the heat of the shower.

“Did you get what you needed to do done?” Jeongyeon asks.

Nayeon nods. Her heart swells just a bit at the sight of her girlfriend.

“Yep. Problem fixed.” She replies.

The real problem now was how she couldn’t get her mind off of what she saw.

“Good!” Jeongyeon says, turning back to head into the bedroom, leaving Nayeon alone with her thoughts.

The images her mind was conjuring up at that moment left her feeling a bit breathless. She was used to Jeongyeon dominating her but not like… that. She didn’t exactly know how she felt about it- but she would be willing to try anything once, especially for Jeongyeon. She nervously stood, staring down at the wood floor, wanting to say something, anything-

“You better not have messed up anything I was working on!” Jeongyeon calls out, bringing Nayeon back to reality.

“I didn’t, I swear!” Nayeon yells back.

Instead of continuing to awkwardly stand in the hallway, she heads to the living room. She plops herself down on the couch with a sigh, still thinking about it.

She picked up her phone, looking over her shoulder quickly, before looking up the website Jeongyeon had been on. Nayeon couldn’t help but blush as she looked through everything, the options seemingly endless. She wasn’t entirely opposed to trying out whatever this was, feeling a bit excited at the thought of what Jeongyeon wanted to do to her.

Surely she would find the right opportunity to bring it up.

———

The two of them laid together, Nayeon’s back pressed against Jeongyeon’s front, both exhausted after a long day. Both of them were half asleep, as it was nearly midnight. As they laid there silently, just enjoying one another’s presence before drifting off to sleep, Nayeon couldn’t help but think about the thing again. It had been around a week since she saw what Jeongyeon had open on her computer, and she really couldn’t seem to let it go.

She felt like it was now or never.

“Hey, Jeong… can I ask you something?” She whispered. “Nothing bad.”

Jeongyeon hummed, shifting a bit.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Nayeon gulped, gathering all of the courage she had in her.

“Well it’s just… the other day when I used your computer, I accidentally saw something.”

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched.

“Yeah?” She asked, clearly nervous.

Nayeon rolled over to face the other girl, her expression soft. She didn’t want to scare Jeongyeon off.

“I saw… a website. And you were looking at… collars, leashes. Other toys.” Nayeon said, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

Jeongyeon gulped and nodded, her cheeks turning red. She looked away.

“Yeah…”

Nayeon smiled, reaching her hand up to push a dark strand of hair behind the blushing girl’s ear.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind trying it.”

Jeongyeon looked back at her girlfriend, locking eyes with Nayeon for a moment before her eyes shifted down to the bed. Jeongyeon pursed her lips.

“No, Nay… I…” She closed her eyes, exhaling. “It’s not for you. It’s… It’s for me.”

Oh.

Well that was certainly not what Nayeon expected.

“For you?” Nayeon asked, trying to get a better understanding.

Jeongyeon nodded, her eyes still closed. Her cheeks were bright red.

“For me. I… I want… Y’know. I want to be the one…” She sighed. “On the leash.”

Oh!

Nayeon really didn’t know what to say. She nodded, propping herself up on one arm so that she was looking down at Jeongyeon. The younger girl’s eyes were still closed, her expression clearly embarrassed. Nayeon reached down to cup her cheek, her thumb stroking back and forth soothingly.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, baby.” She said gently.

Jeongyeon finally looked up, her big, brown eyes full of worry. She looked like she had just been caught stealing, her bottom lip poking out slightly.

“I’m willing to try whatever you want to try, Jeongyeon.” Nayeon whispered down at her, a gentle smile on her face.

Jeongyeon nodded, still frowning a bit, but her worried expression melting.

“I just don’t want it to be weird… You don’t think it’s weird, right?” She asked.

Nayeon just shook her head, leaning down to press a kiss to her girlfriend’s forehead.

“Of course I don’t.” Nayeon replied, her lips brushing against Jeongyeon’s skin. “I want to make you feel just as good as you make me feel. If you want to try it, then we can try it.”

Jeongyeon made a small noise. She reached up and pulled Nayeon down into a hug, Nayeon’s face pressed into the front of her neck. Nayeon couldn’t help but giggle, pressing another kiss against Jeongyeon’s throat as the younger girl squeezed her tightly.

“Thank you, Nayeonie.” Jeongyeon whispered, her chin resting against the top of Nayeon’s head.

Nayeon hummed, smiling as she pressed herself impossibly closer to her girlfriend.

“Of course, baby. We can try whenever you’re ready.”

———

And that’s how Nayeon found herself clipping a collar around Jeongyeon’s neck. She stepped out from behind her girlfriend, circling around her to get a better look at her. Nayeon couldn’t help but smirk at the sight in front of her- a black leather collar around Jeongyeon’s neck, tight enough to dig in to her tanned skin slightly, with a cute pair of black puppy ears sitting atop of her tussled hair. Jeongyeon was already completely naked, but Nayeon was still partially clothed- choosing to wear her favorite set of lingerie, a matching lacy baby blue bra and underwear, connected by a sheer piece of matching fabric that Jeongyeon had gotten her for her birthday years ago.

Nayeon couldn’t help but think that she could get used to the sight in front of her.

They had already discussed Jeongyeon’s wants and limits at length beforehand. Ever the over-prepared type, Nayeon even went as far as to watch videos, to learn more about what exactly Jeongyeon was asking for. Nayeon was fully aware this wasn’t about her at all- but she had a clear role and a duty to fulfill, and she’d make damn sure Jeongyeon was taken care of. Nayeon needed to ruin her- not for her own sake, but for the sake of the nervous girl now standing in front of her.

Jeongyeon’s eyes focused on the floor between both of them, her expression worried. She fidgeted nervously with her hands, her shoulders tensed. Nayeon reached a hand out, lifting Jeongyeon’s chin, making them lock eyes.

“You remember your safe word?” Nayeon asked.

Jeongyeon nodded.

“Signal.”

Nayeon chucked a bit, amused by the fact that Jeongyeon chose to use the name of her record studio as the safe word. How very Yoo Jeongyeon of her.

“Good girl.” Nayeon said, making the other girl blush. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Get on the bed. I have other surprises for you.”

Jeongyeon nodded, doing exactly as she was told, climbing onto the bed. She relaxed against the headboard, watching Nayeon curiously. Nayeon turned and walked over to the closet, kneeling down to pull out a box she had secretly been hiding. She looked back over her shoulder, seeing Jeongyeon still watching.

“Good puppies don’t peak.” Nayeon said, causing Jeongyeon to look away.

Nayeon chuckled softly, going back to what she was doing. She pulled out some of the new toys she had bought- some rope, a bottle of lube, and the most fun of all, a vibrating plug. There were other toys in the box- but those would be saved for another time. She walked back over to the bedside, setting them on the nightstand. She bent down to open the drawer, pulling out the wand that Jeongyeon loved to use on her, placing it among the other toys. She smirked, finally getting on the bed, the rope in her hands. She reached over and gripped Jeongyeon’s chin, forcing the other girl to look up at her.

“You’ve been a bad puppy, Jeongyeon.” Nayeon whispered, her voice laced with lust. “And bad puppies get punished, isn’t that right?”

Jeongyeon just nodded dumbly, her eyes already unfocused. Nayeon smirked, her grip on the younger girl’s chin tightening.

“Use your words, pup.”

Jeongyeon gulped.

“Y-Yes, mommy.” She replied, her voice soft, hesitant.

Nayeon leaned in, quickly pressing a kiss to Jeongyeon’s cheek.

“If it’s too much, use the safe word, and we’ll stop immediately.” She reminded.

Jeongyeon nodded.

“I know. I trust you.” She whispered. “I want this so bad. Please, Nayeon.”

With that, Nayeon leaned back. She grabbed the rope, showing it to Jeongyeon, who just nodded weakly.

“Hands up.” Nayeon commanded.

Jeongyeon complied immediately, her hands reaching up above her head. Nayeon crawled over, sitting in Jeongyeon’s lap, straddling her hips. She reached up and tied the rope around Jeongyeon’s wrists, tight enough so that it indented into her skin, but not cut off the circulation.

As she was tying, she didn’t realize that her chest was directly in front of Jeongyeon’s face. And Jeongyeon, being Jeongyeon, took the opportunity to lean up, biting at the exposed skin of the top of one of her breasts, right above where her bra ended. Nayeon yelped, pulling away.

“Yah! Absolutely not.” She snapped. One of her hands instantly found Jeongyeon’s chin, gripping it tightly. “Bad girl.”

Jeongyeon just smirked at her, clearly proud of herself for getting a reaction out of Nayeon.

“You really want to play that way, baby?” Nayeon asked, her tone sharp. “Don’t forget who’s in charge tonight.”

Jeongyeon’s grin held strong. To make matters worse, she decided it would be a good idea to stick her tongue out. Nayeon was not having it, and she quickly reached up to finish tying Jeongyeon’s wrists before moving off of her lap.

“Roll over. Ass up.” Nayeon commanded. “Since you want to play around, we’ll do this the hard way.”

Jeongyeon wordlessly obliged, doing exactly what she was told. She did her best to rest on her forearms, her teeth gritting at the sting of the ropes digging into her wrists. Nayeon stepped off the bed and walked back over to the closet, grabbing something else out of the box- a riding crop. She got back onto the bed, sighing.

“I wasn’t even planning on using this today, but it seems like my puppy really wants to be punished.” She grumbled, annoyed. “Is that right?”

Jeongyeon nodded.

“Guess so.” She replied, her tone playful.

All of that was thrown out the window at the first smack of the riding crop against her ass. Jeongyeon let out a yelp, hiding her face in her forearms.

“You know how to speak to me.” Nayeon spat out. “Seems like you’ll just have to be broken in.”

Jeongyeon whimpered, arching her back to expose her ass more. Nayeon just chuckled at the sight, doing her best to ignore the tingling feeling it sent straight down to her core.

“Aw, looks like my puppy likes being hurt.” She said, tapping the crop sharply against Jeongyeon’s ass a few times.

Jeongyeon couldn’t help but whimper.

“Yes mommy.” She whispered, her head turned away.

“Color?” Nayeon asked, checking in.

“Green.” Jeongyeon replied firmly.

Nayeon could never have predicted just how turned on she was at that very moment. There was just something about having Jeongyeon- her strong, almost always dominant girl- pliant and obedient just for her. Her head was nearly swimming at the feeling of power she got from all of this, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. She brought the crop down harshly, causing Jeongyeon to let out another whimper.

“You’ll start with ten. You’ll count each one out.” Nayeon told her bluntly. “If you mess up, I add five more. Got it?”

Jeongyeon nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

At that, Nayeon began to harshly strike Jeongyeon’s ass and the tops of her thighs with the crop. Jeongyeon counted out each one, doing her best to stifle any whimpers, unsure if she was allowed to do anything but count and not wanting to risk it. Nayeon relished in the feeling of watching her sweet girlfriend submitting to her, the way her skin turned red with each smack causing her own arousal to pool at her core. After the last spank, she rewarded Jeongyeon by running her fingers through the now shaking girl’s slick folds, lazily circling Jeongyeon’s swollen clit with her index finger.

“My, my, puppy. You must’ve really liked that, huh?” Nayeon sneered. “You’re soaking wet. You really are a painslut, huh?”

Jeongyeon nodded weakly. “Y-yes mommy. I’m- ah! I’m your painslut.”

Nayeon played with her clit for just a bit longer before she pulled her hand away. She gave Jeongyeon another harsh spank with her hand, causing the younger girl to yelp, before moving to grab the plug and lube from off the bedside table.

Nayeon moved back behind Jeongyeon, pausing for a moment to take in the deep, red marks that now adorned the younger girl’s ass and the top of her thighs. Nayeon couldn’t help but smirk, feeling proud of herself. She reached out, running her hand over Jeongyeon’s ass, making sure to rake her nails across the marks. Jeongyeon let out a hiss followed by a whimper.

“Mommy…” She whined, her legs wobbling.

Nayeon took it as her queue to pull back, not wanting to cause Jeongyeon too much pain or scare her off. After all, both of them were new to this. Nayeon was loving every second of it. She moved to drape herself over Jeongyeon’s back, her lips right next to her ear.

“Color?”

“Green. Very green.” Jeongyeon replied, her eyes squeezed shut.

Nayeon hummed and pressed a kiss to her partner’s cheek.

“We haven’t done this next part before, so if it hurts, use your safe word or say red.”

Jeongyeon nodded the best she could, her face squished between Nayeon and her tied up arms. Nayeon leaned back up, quickly slapping Jeongyeon’s ass one last time- for good measure. Jeongyeon whimpered, using the opportunity to wiggle her hips around. Nayeon chuckled at the sight.

“So needy for me, baby.” She whispered. “Don’t forget this is still a punishment.”

At that, Nayeon moved to prop herself up on her knees directly behind Jeongyeon. She grabbed the bottle of lube, cracking it open. The sound made the younger girl jolt- Jeongyeon turning her head to look back at Nayeon, watching over her shoulder as she squeezed some out directly onto her fingers. Jeongyeon���s eyes were wide, expectant- excited. The headband with the puppy ears framed her face perfectly. Nayeon grinned down at her.

“You know what’s coming next, don’t you, pup?” Nayeon teased. “Bet you’ve been waiting for this all day.”

Jeongyeon nodded. “Y-Yes ma’am.”

Nayeon chuckled, moving to spread the lube onto Jeongyeon’s ass. The younger girl shivered at the chill, her body tensing slightly at the unfamiliar feeling. Nayeon used her other hand to gently stroke Jeongyeon’s thigh, trying to keep her calm. After a moment, Nayeon dipped a finger inside, pushing past the tight ring of muscle, earning a whimper from Jeongyeon. She prodded at her entrance, making sure Jeongyeon was properly prepped. She added in a second finger, pushing down to her first knuckle. Jeongyeon let out a few sounds of pleasure, nearly pushing herself back into Nayeon’s hand. The older girl chuckled, swatting at Jeongyeon’s ass.

“Stay still.” Nayeon said firmly.

Jeongyeon didn’t reply, turning to hide her face in her arms. Nayeon continued her movements for a bit longer before deciding Jeongyeon was ready. She pulled out and reached to grab the plug- it wasn’t very big considering it would be the first time they ever did anything like this, but it was enough to make Jeongyeon squirm. Nayeon quickly added some lube to the toy before pressing it against Jeongyeon’s ass, teasing her. Jeongyeon whined at the feeling, pressing her hips back against it again, earning another spank from Nayeon.

“Be patient, pup.” Nayeon scolded. “Or else I’ll just make it worse for you.”

Jeongyeon huffed. “Sorry mommy...”

Nayeon just shook her head. Clearly, Jeongyeon was having fun acting like a brat. But that wouldn’t do- Nayeon wanted to see her utterly broken at this point. She was having too much fun.

After a bit more teasing, Nayeon finally gave in, gently pressing the plug into Jeongyeon’s ass. Nayeon watched as Jeongyeon’s body tensed for a moment, the younger girl’s hands clasping together. She grunted, doing her best to relax and stay still. As soon as the plug sank fully into her, Nayeon pressed a button on the bottom, turning on the vibrations. Jeongyeon couldn’t help but moan then.

“Somebody likes that, huh?” Nayeon teased. “Roll over onto your back, pup.”

Jeongyeon did as she was told. Nayeon helped her roll over and adjust, forcing Jeongyeon’s legs apart. Nayeon sat between them and leaned back on her knees, taking in the sight before her. Jeongyeon’s arms were up above her head, her dark eyes watery, glazed over. Her body was trembling with need, her core glistening with wetness. Her new collar still sat beautifully around her neck, and the pair of black puppy ears that sat atop her head complimented her hair perfectly. Nayeon thought she looked beautiful like that- completely exposed, ready to take whatever Nayeon was about to do to her.

Nayeon was almost too caught up in the moment to remember it was a punishment.

But she inhaled and gathered herself, ignored the way her own core ached with need, and leaned to grab the wand vibrator off the nightstand. She lifted it up to show Jeongyeon- both of them were entirely too familiar with this toy- smirking when her girlfriend failed to contain a whimper.

“Color?” Nayeon asked.

“Green.” Jeongyeon replied desperately.

At that, Nayeon cut on the toy to its highest setting and held it directly to Jeongyeon’s clit. Jeongyeon groaned out at the feeling, her eyes squeezing shut. She blindly reached up for the headboard, doing her best to hold onto it despite her wrists still being tied. Her hips bucked, but Nayeon immediately used her free hand to hold on, her nails digging into Jeongyeon’s skin. Jeongyeon’s head rolled back, and she let out a loud moan- the loudest Nayeon had ever heard her be in all their years together. Nayeon couldn’t help but grin mischievously.

“Feels good, huh, puppy?” She jeered.

Jeongyeon nodded desperately.

“Y-Yes mommy. Fuck- It feels so good.” Jeongyeon sputtered out between moans. “So, so good. Oh my god.”

Nayeon’s grin turned darker, and she pressed the toy against the other girl harder, earning more moans. Jeongyeon’s body twitched, her hips threatening to buck.

“Such a desperate little slut for me, eh?” Nayeon teased. “Tell me when you’re close, pup.”

Jeongyeon nodded, her eyes still squeezed shut. A moment passed before she opened her mouth again.

“C-Close.” She whimpered out.

Nayeon huffed, amused.

“Already? Such a pathetic little puppy.” She pressed the toy against Jeongyeon harder, the other girl letting out a cry.

“G-Gonna- mommy, I’m gonna c-“

Before Jeongyeon could finish her sentence, Nayeon pulled the toy away. Jeongyeon let out a whine, finally opening her eyes as she gasped for air. Nayeon shook her head, tutting.

“You think you deserve it? You’ve been such a bad puppy. You’ll cum when I say you can cum.”

Jeongyeon whined. “But-“

She was cut off by a harsh smack to her thigh.

“Nuh uh, no buts.” Nayeon spat. “You’ve been so bad. I’ll keep this up until you’re completely broken for me, and then maybe I’ll let you finish.”

Jeongyeon whimpered but nodded, accepting her fate. Nayeon brought the toy back against her, and the cycle of edging continued. Nayeon did it five more times, each time making Jeongyeon even more desperate than the last- her moans becoming more high pitched, and the time it took for her to reach the edge getting shorter and shorter. Nayeon loved every second of it, watching how Jeongyeon writhed under her, how frantic her eyes looked, her pupils blown wide. The rope dug into Jeongyeon’s wrists with each movement, causing the skin around them to turn red.

After the seventh time, Nayeon felt her resolve starting to crumble.

Jeongyeon was practically limp as Nayeon pulled away the toy. The younger girl whimpered, her head falling back against the pillows. She had long let go of the headboard, her arms resting above her head. Jeongyeon panted, staring at the ceiling, her body covered in sweat, trembling. Nayeon put the toy down, and then also reached to turn off the vibrating plug. She then leaned up to pepper kisses along Jeongyeon’s exposed chest.

“You handled your punishment so well, puppy. Good girl.” She whispered, moving down to take Jeongyeon’s nipple into her mouth, biting down gently.

Jeongyeon whimpered, lifting her head to watch. Nayeon sucked for a moment, rolling her tongue around the sensitive bud, before pulling off, locking eyes with her partner.

“Wanna cum on my tongue, puppy?”

Jeongyeon practically moaned at the question, biting her lip and nodding desperately.

“Please, mommy. Please. I’ve been so good.”

How could Nayeon deny her at this point.

Nayeon smiled and leaned up to press a quick kiss to Jeongyeon’s lips before moving to settle between her thighs. She could see just how wet Jeongyeon was, the poor girl’s slick practically dripping out of her as her hole clenched around nothing. Nayeon bit her lip at the sight, suppressing a groan that dared to escape. She moved her hands around Jeongyeon’s hips, spreading her apart for better access. After pressing a few kisses to her inner thighs, Nayeon dove in, swiping her tongue through Jeongyeon’s folds before focusing on her clit, quickly flicking her tongue against the swollen bundle of nerves.

Somewhere above her, Jeongyeon brokenly moans out. Her body tenses up, still on edge. Nayeon looks up to see Jeongyeon staring up at the ceiling, her jaw slack. Her hands are clasped together so tightly that her knuckles are white. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, each breath causing a tiny sound to escape as Nayeon works at her with her tongue.

That’s the prettiest she’s ever looked, Nayeon thinks.

“F-Fingers…” Jeongyeon manages to say.

Nayeon hums against her core, earning another whimper. She moves her hands off Jeongyeon’s hips, using one arm to prop herself up as she continues to eagerly suck and lap at Jeongyeon’s folds. The other hand moves, giving a teasing press to the plug that’s still nestled in Jeongyeon’s ass- the younger girl nearly sobbing out at the feeling- before she gives Jeongyeon exactly what she needs.

“My sweet puppy.” Nayeon says, pulling up for just a moment, as she sinks two fingers into Jeongyeon’s aching cunt. “You’re so pretty when you’re broken for me.”

Jeongyeon cries out, cursing as Nayeon begins to move, pumping her fingers in and out. Nayeon goes right back to sucking her clit, her tongue pressing down in just the way she knows Jeongyeon likes it best.

Nayeon thinks she could live forever in this moment, doing this.

She looks up, locking eyes with Jeongyeon. The younger girl’s face was bright red, her eyes hooded. Her bangs stuck to her forehead with sweat, her bottom lip captured between her teeth. Her headband had long slipped off, but her collar was visible at this angle- proof of who she belonged to. She was completely and utterly Nayeon’s- with or without that pretty black collar on her neck.

At a particularly harsh thrust, Jeongyeon whimpered, her head falling back.

“C-Can I cum? Please, Nayeonie- need to cum. I’ve been so good, please- fuck, please let me cum.”

Nayeon smiled, her lips still pressed against Jeongyeon’s clit. She thrusts her fingers harder, curling up to hit the spot that she knows will push Jeongyeon right over the edge.

“Go ahead, puppy. Cum for me.”

With a few more thrusts, and one final firm press of Nayeon’s tongue against her clit, Jeongyeon breaks. Her body tenses and she cries out, nearly screaming Nayeon’s name as her orgasm hits her like a truck. Nayeon helped her through it, gently moving her fingers while placing open mouthed kisses along her folds, avoiding anything that could overstimulate the spent girl. When Jeongyeon finally relaxes, Nayeon moves away. They’re clearly done here. Gently she removes the plug from Jeongyeon’s ass, setting it on the nightstand, before moving to free Jeongyeon’s wrists.

“You did so good, Jeongyeonie.” Nayeon says, placing a kiss on Jeongyeon’s forehead as she tosses the rope away.

Jeongyeon immediately reaches out for her, wrapping her arms around Nayeon and pulling her down on top of her. Nayeon’s face ended up squished in Jeongyeon’s neck, nose pressed against the leather collar. It was uncomfortable, but she didn’t care. Jeongyeon needed to hold her, and that was her priority.

“That was so good. Thank you.” Jeongyeon managed to say after a few moments, her voice weak. She held on to Nayeon tightly, her body still shivering from overwhelm.

They laid like that for a bit before Jeongyeon’s grip finally loosened, letting Nayeon sit up. She placed another kiss to Jeongyeon’s forehead.

“Let me take the collar off, baby.” She whispered down to Jeongyeon. “And I need to look at your back. I know I broke the skin… It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

Jeongyeon hummed.

“It does a bit but… it’s a good hurt.” She admitted sheepishly. “I love it… I loved all of it.”

Nayeon smiled softly. She gave Jeongyeon another kiss before helping her take off her collar. She grabbed it and the headband with the puppy ears and placed them both on the nightstand before helping Jeongyeon roll over onto her stomach, examining the damage she did to her ass. Nayeon grimaced at the sight- angry welts and bruises adorned Jeongyeon’s skin. It looked painful, but Nayeon couldn’t help but feel… proud. She was the only one who got to do this to Jeongyeon, and Jeongyeon willingly let her do it to her- Jeongyeon gave herself over to her completely. But part of her still felt guilty for it.

“Are you sure I didn’t overdo it?” Nayeon mumbled, gently running her hand over the bruises and welts, not wanting to cause Jeongyeon anymore pain.

“No, it was perfect. All of it was perfect, Nay.” Jeongyeon said, her voice muffled from having her face pressed into the pillow. She turned her head to the side. “I don’t think I’ve ever finished that hard before.”

Nayeon moved up and ran her hand through Jeongyeon’s hair gently, earning a smile from the other girl. Nayeon couldn’t help but smile, too.

“So, what you’re saying is that I did a good job?” She asked, a teasing tone.

Jeongyeon nodded.

“It was great. No notes. I couldn’t ask for a better owner, really.” She answered with a smirk.

Nayeon let out an amused huff and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of Jeongyeon’s head before getting up and padding off to the bathroom to get medicine. She also quickly made a trip to the kitchen to get a glass of water, making her way back to the bedroom with everything. Jeongyeon was still lying on her stomach when Nayeon joined her again, setting the water aside so she could apply the medicine to Jeongyeon’s backside. The younger girl let out a small hiss at the contact of the ointment, but relaxed shortly after Nayeon had began working it into her skin. She also made sure to apply some to Jeongyeon’s wrists where the rope left a deep imprint. She just laid there as Nayeon took care of her, a blissed out smile on her lips the entire time.

Nayeon loved every second of it, getting to pamper her sweet girl after such an intense scene. It felt so fulfilling to have Jeongyeon like that under her, and it was even more rewarding to see the aftermath. And even after tearing Jeongyeon apart like that, Nayeon got to help mend her back together. She was happy that she could make Jeongyeon feel safe, comfortable, taken care of, loved. She loved Jeongyeon so much, more than anything or anyone else.

She finished applying the ointment and helped Jeongyeon sit up, handing her the glass of water. She rubbed circles into Jeongyeon’s back, watching as the other girl finished the glass almost in one go. Jeongyeon looked down at the bed, blush creeping up on her cheeks.

“You didn’t think that was weird, right?” She asked, her eyes focused on one particular spot on the sheets.

Nayeon shook her head.

“Not at all. I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t comfortable.” Nayeon replied, hugging Jeongyeon from the side. “In fact, I’d really love if you let me do it again in the future.”

Jeongyeon bit her bottom lip and nodded.

“I will, definitely. I’ve never… experienced anything like that before. It was everything I’d wanted and more.” She finally looked up at Nayeon. “I love you so much. Thank you for doing that for me.”

Nayeon smiled softly at the girl beside her, her heart soaring in her chest. Jeongyeon was never the type to be sappy, so this was a rare moment for both of them.

“I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.” Nayeon leaned in, kissing Jeongyeon’s cheek. “There’s no need to thank me. You can tell me anything you want or need, and always I’ll do my best to provide it for you, Jeong.”

Nayeon took the now empty glass from Jeongyeon’s hands, lying down. She pulled the younger girl down, Jeongyeon’s head resting on her chest. The two of them laid in silence, just enjoying each other’s presence for a bit before Jeongyeon shifted, sitting up suddenly.

Before Nayeon could say anything, Jeongyeon planted both of her hands on either side of Nayeon’s head, straddling the older girl’s hips. Nayeon gasped at the sudden change, shocked that Jeongyeon had shifted the dynamic that quickly. Her hands flew to Jeongyeon’s sides, gripping them gently.

“Jeong- You don’t have to.” Nayeon whispered, looking up at Jeongyeon with concern.

Jeongyeon just shook her head before leaning down, her lips brushing over the shell of Nayeon’s ear. Nayeon shuddered at the feeling, her neediness finally catching up to her.

“But you were so good for me, Nay.” Jeongyeon whispered, her breath warm against Nayeon’s cheek. “Let me take care of you. You deserve a reward.”

Nayeon blushed fiercely, her eyes squeezing shut. She pressed her thighs together, suddenly painfully aware of just how soaked her panties were.

“Baby…” She whimpered out.

“Shhh… Just relax. Let me make you feel good, Nayeonie.”

Really, Nayeon could never say no to her good puppy.

[fakirchan]

Long ramble about trauma under the cut because I was just thinking and writing, sorry guys . Like really long

This is a memory I don't think I've ever told anyone... when I was a kid (10~12), I remember my relative demanded to see my first laptop; I don't remember why, but I was scared because I was never allowed to have any sort of online privacy, and at the time, I was already using and talking to people on Tumblr. I actually had Tumblr open when this was happening, and I hadn't really learned to use things like Incognito. I had refused and it really made her mad, so mad that she would start beating on me while I tried to keep her from taking my laptop out of my hands. Eventually I pushed her away, and she fell. I took the time to delete all of my history, but afterwards, I realized she couldn't get back up. She didn't want me to help her or even get near her, and she instructed our other relative to call the police on me. When the police came, I was chastised for not "listening to my family." I was barely a tween and I was living in horrible conditions at my house—the house was very unclean—and the whole reason this happened was because my family was trying to steal my things to search through them. But the police did nothing, and even scolded me, which was crazy... Like be so for real, who even calls the police on an 11 year old boy in the first place. It's not like I literally murdered my whole family, how can you take the abusive adult's side over the abused child's...

On lighter notes, she also used to just do things like taking my tablet from me (which I used before I had a phone) and reading through my history in front of me. Even just last year, she took my phone out of my hands because she wanted to see what I was doing and looked through my tabs and history, then looked through all the recent calls to my phone, demanding to know who each number was and calling each one back (they were just calls my phone received that I never even answered).

Anyway, I just thought about all this because I went to my room with my laptop and realized that my relative woke up. She came in to my room and asked what I was doing on my laptop, saying that I "really didn't want [her] to see." I panicked because it reminded me of those times, and I shut down my laptop and said I was just going to bed. Really, I wanted to make GIFs of a video I was excited about for a little bit, but now I'll have to wait 'til tomorrow.

It's just that it's humiliating being on the cusp of a 20 year old man and having to tell people that I still live this way. I imagined being so much stronger when I was a 12 year old boy.

[thatrandomlemononyourcounter1]

A few more tips that I've picked up over the years from friends and such:

If you have a fan, start leaving it on, that way it can cover the noises of opening wrappers, or anything like that. Bonus points if it makes noise

Stuffed animals are great to hide stuff in, especially if it's something small like a granola bar or a in some cases, even a phone. It depends on the size of the stuffed animal. Granted, you do have to know how to sew to patch it back up in a way you can still access it. If your abusers/strict parents get suspicious, say you accidentally caught it on something and had to patch it up.

ALWAYS have a story. Add random details that wouldn't really make sense out of context. Don't make it too detailed.

I don't know about you guys, but I always had a blanket growing up that was composed of two pieces of fabric, and knots. If you have one of those, USE IT. It can hide things, especially if it's folded up. Put stuff inside it.

Anything you want to watch/read/see that you're probably not supposed to, pirate. This is common sense, but do it on an incognito tab. If you need some good pirating sites, this website has plenty recommendations

Deduct whether your abusers/strict parents/whatever are light sleepers or heavy sleepers. This knowledge will help you exponentially. For example (from one of my friends), my mom is a heavy sleeper, but my dad is a light sleeper, and is awake at most points of the night. I've learned to listen for his snoring to know if he's truly asleep

Don't tell your siblings anything unless you're 100% they won't tell anyone else.

If you and your siblings are using these tips, especially the hiding places ones, make sure that your hiding places aren't the same. (I.E. if you're hiding something in one of your stuffed animals, make sure they aren't.) The reason for this is that if one of you gets caught, the other will most likely get caught as well.

LEARN ASL or at least basic signs, this will help so much I promise, especially if you can get your siblings/cousins/whoever lives in the house to learn it with you.

If you listen to music you're 'not supposed to', be careful. I suggest sending your playlists to a trusted friend, that way if you have to delete them, you'll still have them.

If you delete texts, make sure that you have a regular 'clean' conversation with the person you're deleting texts with, to make your abusers/etc less suspicious.

If you have a 'cover' person, always have a started conversation with them, that way you can act like you were in the middle of texting them

Stay safe out there my friends, and I'm always here if you need someone to talk to <33

hey so protip if you have abusive parents and need to get around the house as quietly as possible, stay close to furniture and other heavy stuff because the floor is settled there and it’s less likely to creak

[nightowl33art]

Gonna try to use Tumblr a little bit more than I have been. Will start posting art and shit here. Might update my intro post or something. I also intend to use this page as a slightly more personal place than my Twitter. So I might post things like thought trains, random notes, personal messages, and my less mainstream creations, like poetry. Consider this a start. If there's major backlash or regret for this decision, I'll overturn it, but if not, buckle in for my random shit.

(CW for grooming mention below.)

----

If you didn't know, I was groomed a few years ago. My groomer and I spoke from mid 2020 to early 2023, so I knew him for over two years. He was my best friend. Over the span of 2022 he went from a brother, to a lover after I turned 18, to my ex at the end of the year. I didn't realize it was grooming until late last year, and it still affects me to this day.

Clearing tabs, I came across a music video I bonded with him over. It hurts to remember things sometimes. Listening to the song brings joy, but I feel pain remembering the context I've mainly come to associate with it. After all, I haven't really touched that song since him,, til now.

The entire friend group we had at the time was nd. so we took stims and stuff off each other. Created a lot of inside jokes. When we cut off anyone deemed bad for us, he hoped they'd feel upset remembering these jokes and stims. For us, we'd still be able to laugh and not let these things weigh the jokes down.. Now that I'm on the other side, I've recontextualized some things so they don't bother me. But I can't help but remember sometimes. Those are the painful moments. They can bring tears.

I hate how the memory of my groomer sours some things. I wish it didn't feel so unpleasant to recall certain interactions with him. I used to console him all the time, the insecure wreck. Tell him I didn't hate him- that I could never. Fuck man, I defended him, saying he couldn't be a creep! I thought I got myself into that mess! But I'm a grown up now. I'm the age he was when he met me. My eyes have been opened. I hate him now. I despise what he has done. Although I am not permanently ruined, I am burned. Sometimes the scars are still tender.

Ik he occasionally stalks around the socials of those he's kicked away or those he doesn't like. He hate watches and laughs, calling them pathetic and what have you. I'm not exempt from the list. (In the past he and my ex, his partner, stalked my carrd to find the Twitter account I'd freshly made. I know bc his partner came in complaining about something I'd commissioned and rt'd.) I don't doubt they still check in on me every once in a while.

I used to be there with him. We'd ask "where are they now? What stupid things are they up to?" and go look. We'd treat the subjects like personal clowns and take joy in their pain. For someone so worried and traumatized over being a lolcow, he sure enjoyed making others his. (This is not to invalidate his trauma, but it does not justify him.)

Tumblr. I always viewed this place as his turf. I used to enjoy what he posted here. It was in my bookmarks. Now he's blocked. But I don't assume it'll stop him if he wanted to view my page on, say, incognito. Not much I can do to run or keep his eyes away so i have to be okay with that. BECAUSE of that, I don't mind posting about this- about him- on my Tumblr. So, to my groomer, if you're reading this.

Fuck you. YES I hate you and you're gonna have to live with that forever. I assume you don't care anymore what I think, but I retract everything I said when i knew you. I hate you. I hate you so fucking much. Whether or not you intended to hurt me in the way you have, you did, you selfish bitch. I looked to you for safety but you metaphorically dug your nails into my veins while I slept. I only am awake now to see the wounds. I thought you were the coolest motherfucker alive, I idolized you, I fell in love with you, and now I can only look at you in disgust. I'm aware you're likely not out there grooming others. You only have your partner, who you also groomed, younger than me, by your side, happily taken, living with you and your parents. I'd say it's not okay but it has to be because I can't do anything about it. It was your and his choice to end up where you are currently. And frankly I don't care about either of you. I'm sure you're happy together, living your best lives. Just know you're not having a better life than I. I've been out here, LIVING and thriving. You aren't superior to me (though I'm sure you enjoy imagining you are, sitting in your fortress while reading this in a silly voice.) I've got new opportunities, better friends, a healthier everything, and I'm content with my current love life. Rest assured, I have grown from the person I was when we dated. I wasn't in the best place and I regret my nasty moments. I feel bad for what I've done, but I also have to be thankful. If I wasn't in a bad place, if I wasn't just a scared and lost kid, I wouldn't have escaped.

You grew sick of me and kicked me out of everything we had. You were so petty as to give personal info to mutuals in a gc (like COUGH my irl name, seriously?) So petty to delete thousands of messages you sent me. So petty to cry about me being "abusive." You weaponized and demonized my mental illnesses, diagnosed and unknown, to make me look worse. Like actually fuck you for making my alter Carl seem like a dangerous person. Fuck you for saying I physically attacked people when no tf I did not. I, and most of my system, would not begin to dream of striking a person like that. (The ones that do are using fantasy to cope, I should clarify. We are not a violent person.) And certainly not an animal jfc. "So glad you're away from him," they responded. They thought ill of me because of you. You're probably satisfied with that because you believe it all yourself. I know you think everything you did was right, but stuff like borderline blackmailing me is not the way to go fyi. Controlled the narrative to take away what I had. They trust you, they'll instantly take your side, esp because there's two of you, when in reality what you said about me was mostly misunderstanding or spiraling assumptions because you overthink way too much. No reality checks to keep you in place. I can still break it all down point-to-point.

If I think back, it hurts that you assumed I never loved you. That I dated you out of pity. What the fuck man. I loved you to my last breath,, before you killed me.

But if I was not mentally unwell back then, I would likely still be with you. And that's a terribly unpleasant thought. I'd still be terribly dependent on you to regulate my emotions, and you'd be just as dependent on me. Egads. Yikes. Ew.

I'm glad you broke up with me. Thank you. The heartbreak was painful but worth experiencing, considering the alternative. I know you're not part of my life now and I couldn't be more thankful, but if you're still checking on me, there's no point to doing so. I'm not out to hurt you so checking for signs of danger are nullified. I don't think what I do now makes you laugh either. I'd prefer it if you leave me alone now. Lord knows I want you far away from me. I'm glad I never got to meet you in person.

At least you're just distant memories now.

[sugaxjpg]

ghosts just wanna have fun; m

⤷  When Jungkook discovered that he could communicate with dead people, the last thing he expected was that they would be there to give him romantic advice.

✓ Couple: Jungkook x Reader | Psychic!AU & MedSchool!AU

✓ Filed under: fluff, crack (so many ghost puns), light smut (and jungkook being a nervous virgin) 

✓ Words: 20,062

Author’s Note: In which Jungkook is able to see spirits, but it’s just Taehyung and Yoongi giving him dating tips because he sucks at talking to girls. Hope you guys like it, because it has been on my WIPS for over a year and a half and I can’t believe it’s finally out there... emotional, really.

Also, huge thanks to @storytaeme​, who proof-read this mess like a champ. 

 There aren’t many embarrassing situations that can overcome the fact that Jeon Jungkook found out about his psychic abilities as he was about to lose his virginity. 

To say the least, that hadn’t been the most pleasant of scenarios to open the pathway to the afterlife. Really, there was no casual way that he could justify the scream that broke from his lips, or the dramatic spin he took as he turned around on the bed — which, ultimately, had him falling into the small space between the nightstand and the wall, with his legs up in the air, and his butthole fully exposed for both planes of existence to see. 

Still, that hadn’t been the worst part. If those two pallid silhouettes had merely disappeared once he had seen them, it wouldn’t have been as traumatic — perhaps Jungkook could have found a semi-believable excuse about what he had witnessed — but no. Not only did the ghosts remain there, with their arms crossed before their achromatic clothes and eyebrows slightly raised in expectation, they continued their conversation as if nothing had happened. 

“Oh, he was definitely going to put it in the wrong hole,” the shorter of the two murmured, clearly entertained at the idea. 

The other scoffed. “What if he did?” he threw back. “Maybe he likes that, we can’t judge.”

Truth was that, one way or another, Jungkook couldn’t even figure out what he liked — he didn’t even get the chance. He was gone from his (ex) girlfriend’s place before his brain could even attempt to construct a plausible explanation, even less to digest what had preceded that unfortunate revelation. Now, the wrong hole would forever be a source of trauma for him. 

And the problems didn’t exactly stop there. Ever since his cherry-popping session was interrupted, Jungkook hadn’t been able to move further than the first base, thinking that he would embarrass himself all over again or, worse, be frightened by a random demon passing by. Also, the constant mockery of his ghostly counterparts certainly didn’t help his concentration. 

The worst part? Helping Jungkook was kind of their whole point. And they couldn’t even do that right. 

Taehyung and Yoongi were their names — they told him right after the first night he saw them. Jungkook didn’t know what had happened in the afterlife that they had been punished with such a horrendous mission and, frankly, at that point, he was too afraid to ask. 

“But I don’t need your help,” Jungkook had said after one particularly bad date, dramatically throwing himself onto his bed. The furniture creaked under his weight and he wondered if it would snap before his mind did. “I just want you to leave me alone or, I don’t know, help me with something else — something useful.”

The two ghosts were by his desk, looking at his class notes and, at that comment, Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “Useful? Like what?” He asked. 

“I don’t know, solving crimes or something,” Jungkook mumbled, turning around so he would face the wall. God, he just needed two seconds alone. 

Behind him, Taehyung laughed. “You don’t even know how to open a bra, and you're out there thinking of reopening cold cases? Give me a break.” 

“Ouch,” Jungkook whispered. Maybe another time, it would’ve hurt his pride a bit more. That night, however, he was too tired to care. “For your information, I do know how to open a bra. You two just started whispering and it distracted me.” 

“We were whispering to you the instructions on how to open a bra,” Yoongi responded. “Would you need those if you knew what you were doing? No.” 

Jungkook sighed. “I just—”

“This conversation is done, we went over this already.” Yoongi interrupted. “You need us, whether you want it or not. You’re painfully bad at romance, Jungkook, even worse at initiating sex. I’ve never seen something like that before.” 

At that, Jungkook rolled on the bed and faced them. There was only one light in his bedroom that was on — the table lamp — and its clear orange shade passed through them both in an odd mixture of contours and lines. “Maybe if I could do it myself, without you two buzzing around the place, it wouldn’t be so bad,” he responded, aggressive. 

“Calm down. You were already bad enough when we arrived,” Taehyung told him, leaning over to see all the scattered pages on his desk. He frowned once he saw something he couldn’t quite understand, and quickly turned away from it. “Nothing changed much.” 

“Right!” Jungkook sat up on the bed. “Isn’t that enough of a sign for you two to stop trying to help me, then?” 

“No,” Yoongi said calmly. “That’s a sign that we have to try harder. And so do you.” 

He sneered. “I absolutely don’t.” 

“Yes, you absolutely do,” he said. “You know what? Grab your phone and get yourself a date with that girl you like from physiology class. Two weeks from now.” 

There was a second of silence as Jungkook’s mind struggled to piece the idea together. He wasn’t even sure about who Yoongi was referring to, there were a lot of girls in his class. “What? Why?” 

“Just trust us. She’s into you,” Yoongi spoke. 

Taehyung nodded in agreement. “It’ll work out.” 

Jungkook scoffed. “When does it, really?” 

“This time, it will,” Taehyung said. “Really. Do it.” 

“Fine.” He breathed out, reaching for his phone. “What girl?” 

Yoongi looked him up and down. “You know what girl.” 

With a deep breath, Jungkook scrolled over his contact list, struggling to find someone that he would have even the slightest chance with. Truth was, he has no fucking clue of which one of the hundred and fifty people in his class would even look in his direction, much less go on a date with him. 

“You do know… right?” Taehyung asked, clearly worried. “We can’t really give you names, but you… know, right?” 

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah! Sure I do!” Jungkook laughed nervously, clicking on a random name and opening a chat. “Here, I’m sending her a text right now. No reason to worry… no reason at all.” 

“Good,” Yoongi said, distracted. “Now, if you need us, we’ll be watching Gone Girl with your neighbors. We already missed the start of the movie, and I’m pissed off as it is.”

Taehyung nodded. “Amazing movie,” he said. Jungkook pressed send and prayed for the best. “We should have more movie nights over here.” 

 Yoongi said something in agreement and, in a second, they were already gone. Jungkook was left alone in his bedroom, with the light of his lamp casting over his features the desperation that he was feeling inside. 

“This better work,” he mumbled to himself. “You two better not be trying to embarass me.”

_____________

And then, two weeks later, Yoongi and Taehyung were laughing at him as his last failed attempt at romance got up from her chair and basically ran away from him.

Yoongi leaned back against the chair, his ankles crossed over the large table. If someone else could see him then, he surely would have received a few complaints about keeping the mall under semi-sanitary conditions. “Jungkook, I’ll tell you something,” he started, clearly amused. “You’re so bad at romance that I wish I was alive just so I could punch some reason into you.”

Taehyung, who had stayed mostly quiet during the painfully awkward interaction, walked beside Jungkook and chuckled at his distress. Still, he was focused on the other ghost, and the implication of his speech. “That amount of violence is the exact reason why you’re no longer alive, Yoongi,” he pointed out, then turned to Jungkook before he could smirk at the reprehension. “But really, that was awful. If I weren’t spiritually tied to you, I would’ve given up by now. You’re hopeless.”

“Completely out of it,” Yoongi added. “Do you even know how women work?” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes, and reached for his phone: there was no way he would enter a discussion with those invisible pricks in a public situation without something to mask it. Not that it would have been the first time.  

Yoongi materialized on the seat next to Jungkook, his head leaning against his hand. The boy was already used to those sudden changes of position, but that didn’t mean that he liked it. In fact, after Taehyung had appeared next to him during a particularly bad time — in which the incognito tab had already been opened, and a bottle of lotion already waited for him — he could never erase the intense panic of such experiences. 

But of course, Yoongi knew that, and he used his discomfort for his own entertainment. “You can’t ignore us, kiddo,” he said slowly, clearly amused. “And you can’t ignore the fact that you’ll die alone, surrounded by cats, if you don’t start listening to what we have to say. We have been tied to you for a reason.”

“And the reason,” Taehyung added, “is to make you stop cockblocking yourself.” 

With a subdued groan, Jungkook pressed his phone against his ear — an old trick that allowed for him to have a conversation without being seen as clinically insane by passersby. “You two are the reason why this date went downhill,” he told them. “You told me to say all the wrong things. You two set this up knowing I’d fail.” 

“Oh, no.” Taehyung shook his head in disagreement. “The words were right. Your delivery was awful.” 

“Western-movie-awful,” Yoongi added. “And if you want to change that, you have to trust us.” 

“Trust you? Where has that taken me?” Jungkook questioned, irritated. “You’re the reason why I lost my first girlfriend and haven’t had another one ever since.” 

Yoongi chuckled. “The girl from the first night? She never talked to you again after that, did she?” He asked, but, of course, he already knew the answer. “Damn, that was cringe-worthy. Butt in the air and everything.”

“No need to remind me, I was there.” Jungkook clenched his jaw, trying to control his demeanor. It wasn’t fair that there was not much that he could do to make the two men shut up — since they were, quite literally, already dead, he didn’t have many threats to utter. “And whose fault was that?” 

“Technically, yours.” Taehyung shrugged. “We didn’t present ourselves to you, you just saw us all of a sudden. We were just as surprised.”

“Besides, you were the one that had the B.F.,” Yoongi added. 

Jungkook raised one eyebrow. “B.F.?”

“Bitch fit,” Taehyung elucidated. “He watched White Chicks with your neighbors last night, don’t worry about it.” 

Jungkook groaned, pressing his hand against his face. Of course — the cherry on top would be outdated pop references, as expected. Yoongi had always been quite fond of the classic ‘with great power comes great responsibility’, and Jungkook thought that the overuse of that quote would be the ultmost reason for his insanity. Nevertheless, he came to understand that it was nothing compared to movies like White Chicks or even Legally Blonde. He would rather hear Uncle Ben’s famous line a billion times over before Yoongi accused him of having a B.F. once more. 

He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the environment around him. The murmurs and disembodied conversations around the mall had morphed into the sound of irritating insects, and he felt as if the earth could just open up and eat him alive. He probably committed a terrible crime in a past life to be stuck with Tweedledee and Tweedledum like that. 

“Anyways,” Jungkook stressed, “it didn’t seem like the two of you were surprised that I could see you. You just kept… talking about me. And my ass.”

Taehyung chuckled. “You were the one with the ass up in the air.” He vanished, then materialized in the seat in front of Jungkook. “What were we supposed to do? Ignore it?” 

“It was an easy target,” Yoongi spoke, then seemed to realize the words that had left his mouth. “Wait, I didn’t mean the double interpretation.” 

“Why can’t the two of you just fucking help me for once?” Jungkook asked aggressively. In a nearby table, one old man raised his eyes from his vegan burger and stared the boy up and down in disapproval. Jungkook lowered his voice and switched his phone to the other ear. “This is unbearable. You two are only making it worse.” 

With a gesture that Jungkook knew all too well, Taehyung used his thumb to point over his shoulder, towards the path that his failed date had followed. “That one wasn’t good enough for you,” he said nonchalantly. “We can tell. We know stuff.” 

“Then why did you set this up in the first place?” He asked, exasperated. 

“As DJ Khaled says, you played yourself,” Yoongi cited. One more reference and Jungkook would be the one joining the world of the dead. “It’s not our fault that you get nervous and can’t deliver the lines right. When have the two of us ever failed?”

“When you died,” he spoke back. “Or did you forget the stupid mistake you made?”

Yoongi hesitated. As much as he tried to play it cool, he wasn’t the smartest one around. In fact, his tragically premature death was all the evidence Jungkook needed to make his point clear. 

During his living days, Yoongi was pretty invested in rock climbing. On a beautiful summer afternoon, just as the sun was setting over the green-bathed hills, one of his friends dared him to bungee jump from the same cliff they had just climbed, and were standing on. Of course, the man agreed promptly, saying that he wouldn’t back out from such a mundane task; stating repeatedly that the fall wouldn’t be so high up anyway. But that wasn’t the turning point: Min Yoongi, in all his adventurousness, quickly decided that his local shop was too expensive and that he would create his own bungee jump cord instead. 

According to him, making the cord proved itself to be quite an easy task. He had gotten some help from his local adrenaline addicts and the final product was a very good copy of the factory-made ones. He measured the cliff twice just to be certain, compared it to the rope, and made sure to test the sustentation and elasticity as many times as he could. 

Still, Yoongi had overlooked an imperative detail: he shouldn’t use a cord that was the same height as the cliff he was jumping from. 

Needless to say, he only realized his mistake once he was already dead. 

Yoongi scoffed at the memory, ignoring his hurt pride. He swore he could still feel his back hurting when he thought about that. “That isn’t the point,” he said. He often did that: changed the subject once he realized he couldn’t leave with the upper hand. “The point is that you keep delivering lines like you’re a bad boy in a South American novela, then expect us to perform a miracle on you.” 

Jungkook frowned, lowering his head. “That’s actually so wrong.” 

But the problem was: Yoongi was right, and Jungkook knew it. In fact, that had been the exact reason why his date had left him that night — the boy had misunderstood Taehyung’s advice to play off as a mysterious man, and instead projected his image somewhere between a psychopath and a person that had only K-dramas as a basis of how human interactions were supposed to work. Jungkook missed his attempts at romance the entire time, but the breaking point was when Yoongi told him to act as a bad influence because, according to him, girls dig a good bad boy. 

Once again, Yoongi wasn’t the brightest mind when it came to risk-taking. That was why he was more dead than Jungkook’s bedroom. 

Jungkook, however, did not realize his own errors until it was too late. He had chuckled at his date’s embarrassment, using his opening to delicately place her hair behind her ear. “I’m going to tell you something,” he started, voice swift and placid as a river. With his eyebrows raised and his lips vaguely forming a pout, he looked like an off-brand version of Handsome Squidward. “I’m not really a good influence, and surely not the kind of guy you’d like to get with. So why don’t you do me a favor and follow the simple orders I give you, uh?”

Her eyes had widened in a mixture of second-hand embarrassment and fear. From the corner of his eyes, Jungkook saw her reaching for her purse over the table. “No, thank you,” she was quick to say. “I don’t think this will work, sorry. I’ll see you around college.” 

And that’s how they ended at that point. The point they always seemed to end up in. 

“I think I need a break from all of this,” Jungkook said, closing his eyes for a moment of peace. “I have a huge test next week and I couldn’t even study for it because of all the preparation for this stupid date. Can you two just take a step back? Just for a little while. Romance can’t be all that I think about.”

As he opened his eyes, he saw Taehyung staring at him. He couldn’t really read his expression. 

And, without an answer, the two of them vanished. 

_________________

If someone asked Jungkook why the hell he thought going to medical school was a good idea, he’d simply say that, at the time, it made sense. After all, he had thought, he’d be some sort of super-doctor, since he had an exclusive VIP pass to the afterlife — just imagine how many people he would be able to help just by asking a friendly ghost what was wrong with a patient. It would be a game-changer. He could even find the cure of cancer if he tried hard enough. 

But of course, he quickly realized that he should’ve thought further about his decision. Maybe being a detective would have made much more sense — it would have been a lot cheaper, that’s for sure, and he wouldn’t have to sit through almost twelve hours of classes every single day for a diploma that seemed to be too far away for him to care. 

That particular class, however, wasn’t the worst one out there. 

It was Tuesday, and Tuesday meant Pathology. Jungkook loved that class because the professor hated teaching it, so the students had to sit in silence for about three hours trying to read the textbook by themselves. The professor said he would be there to answer any questions, but he was mostly scrolling through his phone and interrupting students every time they tried to ask him something — “That’s in the textbook, just keep reading.”  

Most of his classmates absolutely despised that subject, but Jungkook thought it was wonderful: he often learned better by himself anyways, and the lack of conversation during class brought him some sense of peace. Besides, Yoongi and Taehyung hated sitting in that quiet room for too long, so they mostly left after ten or twenty minutes of trying — and failing — to strike up a conversation with Jungkook. It was the perfect day.

Well, most days it was. 

Just as he was about to move forward to the next topic — Adrenal Insufficiency and Addison’s Disease — , the boy felt something poking his bicep and he was quick to turn to his side. Instantly, he recognized your expectant gaze and something fluttered inside his stomach. 

“Hey, Jungkook,” you whispered, leaning over your desk, “is tomorrow afternoon still up? I really need help in cardiac physiology. I kind of suck.”

He hummed in agreement, fighting against the nervousness that crept up on him. Jungkook’s palms started to sweat just by looking at you, he really was one step away from reverting back to his pre-teen days. “For sure. I’ll be at yours at five,” he managed to get out. 

“Thank you so much,” you said, then moved back against your seat. “I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled. If it had been anyone else, Jungkook would’ve had a stroke by then — after all, he wasn’t always invited to a girl’s place so easily. That’s someone that I have absolutely no chance with, he thought. So friendzoning himself made everything much easier. “Are you sure you don’t want to meet up at the library?” 

“I can’t really concentrate there,” you answered. “But if you prefer, we could go.” 

“No, no.” He shook his head. “Your place is fine.” 

You smiled again, and Jungkook thought that maybe being shot wouldn’t hurt so much. “Thanks. See you at five.” 

Jungkook nodded and turned around, facing his laptop. Just as he was about to restart typing his notes, he saw a known reflection at the corner of his computer. Oh, God, have mercy.

Yoongi’s reflection smirked from the back row. “Oh, man, she’s so into you.”

 Jungkook shook his head in denial, eyes still glued to the PDF file in front of him. If anything, his classmates would have just guessed he was finding that subject more difficult than usual and, quite frankly, no one could judge him. 

“No?” Yoongi raised one eyebrow, reappearing by his side with his hand supporting his cheek. Jungkook didn’t even need to look at him to know that he was just looooving the discomfort that grew inside his limbs. “I know those things, kiddo. It’s my job.”

From the front seat, Taehyung hummed in agreement. He had his arm placed over the chair, and seemed to find that entire situation a bit boring — maybe because he had seen it countless times before. “She definitely wants to get some of that,” he said. “We are proud of you, son.” 

With a subdued sigh, Jungkook scribbled some aggressive words at the corner of his notebook, and showed it to the man by his side. “Look at this, Taehyung, he’s trying to convince us that they’re just friends,” Yoongi mocked, crossing his arms. “That’s cute. Just because you’re that oblivious, it doesn’t mean that we are.”

“Jungkook, we’ve been watching the two of you talk the entire semester,” Taehyung added. “Besides, Yoongi made me follow her around once. She’s definitely into you. In unholy ways.”

Yoongi nodded once again. “She wants to be your boo.”

“Was that a fucking ghost pun?” Taehyung’s nose cringed up in disgust, and Jungkook had to fight back the reflex of laughing at his reaction. “Awful.”

“At least I’m not the one who ghostwrote Jungkook’s ethics essay.” Yoongi threw back. “Yeah, and that was another pun. You’ve got no spirit.” 

“You know what? Now I know why Jungkook can’t stand us anymore.” Taehyung smirked and, then and there, Jungkook knew exactly what was coming. “He can see right through us.”

The other ghost nodded. “Yeah, we’ve reached a dead end.” 

Jungkook groaned in exasperation, hiding his face behind his hands. “This is torture.”

Next to him, you chuckled. “Come on, pathology isn’t even that bad. You’re good at this.” 

“I know, I’m just tired.” He turned around to look at you, uttering the same excuse he had been using this entire semester. Not that it was an uncommon one, especially in the fifth circle of hell that was medical school. “I think I need to splash some cold water on my face. Wake myself up.”

You hesitated, staring at him as he stood up.  Jungkook looked strangely pale, like he was about to throw up all over the classroom. “Is everything okay?”

Fantastic! My bachelor ghosts are just making me have a nervous breakdown. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” He said, almost stumbling over your chair. Some of your pens fell down, but Jungkook couldn’t even bring himself to get them. He’d probably just knock everything else over in the process, and he wasn’t even sure that he could stand back up after. “Shit— Sorry. I’ll be right back.”

Behind him, Yoongi chuckled. “Spook-tacular skills, as always.”

_____________

The sound of running water was all that entered Jungkook’s mind for a moment, his face feeling the coldness of the liquid as he splashed himself once, twice, trying to clear his thoughts. In the end, it was mostly in vain: his class was ruined, his notes were left unfinished, and he couldn’t get a second of tranquility anymore — not even in Pathology. If he weren’t canonized after his death, he would file a complaint for sure. 

Abruptly, he closed off the faucet and the water stopped running. There was a heavenly instant of quietness, in which Jungkook followed the crystalline droplets falling from his hair to the sink, before Yoongi’s voice echoed behind him. “How you doin’, champ?” 

Jungkook sighed and raised his head, looking at his ghost counterpart through the dirty mirror. “Is the bathroom empty?” he asked calmly. 

“Hm? Yeah,” Yoongi said. “The ghost is clear.”

Just like that, his serenity was gone. “Yoongi, can you fucking stop? Your puns stopped being funny after the third attempt,” Jungkook asked, exasperated. He pulled some paper towels, and got even angrier at the way they fell apart in his hands. Good to know his college money was being used wisely. “Jesus. Where is Taehyung?”

“You know he hates toilet paper,” Yoongi told him. “Reminds him of his death.”

Jungkook considered the compelling idea of banging his head against the bathroom wall until he, himself, was part of the world of the dead. As he recalled very well, Taehyung had been a victim of Final-Destination-levels of misfortune: just because he had forgotten to take toilet paper to his camping trip, the boy had been forced to use nearby leaves. Those, as he would soon come to understand, caused an awful allergy on his lower lands, and the punctual bleeding was a sufficient opening for opportunistic diseases. The culprit? Some super strange bacteria that floated around the river. He was dead less than twenty hours after he came back home from septic shock.  

Taehyung had endured, quite frankly, one shitty death. And, yes, Yoongi had made that joke a few too many times before. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Jungkook realized. “What did I tell you two about chit-chatting with me in large public places? Especially my classes? I have to pay attention. And I have a test in two days, I need to be all here, and not thinking about other people.” 

Yoongi giggled — almost childishly so — at the other’s anguished attitude. His teeth, a pallid shade of white, could barely be seen against the olive-green tiles that covered the bathroom walls. “You weren’t paying attention to the processes of intestinal inflammation, that’s for sure,” he teased, forcing himself to hold back his jokes a bit. 

“I wasn’t even studying that chapter,” Jungkook mumbled. 

Even Yoongi, who had a dense personality for such a diaphanous soul, could tell that the student was not in the mood for mockery. “Man, why are you so stuck-up? Taehyung and I are ghosts, but you’re the one with the dead sense of humor.”

Jungkook realized he needed a moment to think before he started yelling at nothing in a public bathroom. He really hoped the other stalls were empty, but he couldn’t be bothered to check. 

“This isn’t about the puns. You two just don’t respect my privacy,” Jungkook said. This time, he was able to pull some good paper towels and proceeded to dry his face. “This has been going on for too long. Why don’t you two just vanish for some time?”

“Wish I could, kiddo, but I’ve got hours to clock,” Yoongi finally admitted. From the mirror, he could see the frown of confusion that was cast over Jungkook’s features. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m only following rules. Talk to the big guy upstairs if you want to complain.”

He threw the paper on the trash and shook his head in confusion. “I just don’t see the point of any of this.” 

“You don’t have to.” Yoongi took a step closer. He often looked so unbothered — the two of them, actually — that Jungkook caught himself wondering which certainties they held, notions that would most likely be given after death. “Just do what we tell you to do.”

“That has only embarrassed me so far,” he said, turning around. “I don’t think I have it in me to trust in you two one more time. It has gotten me nowhere. Or, rather, nowhere good.”  

Yoongi sighed. “Alright, let’s do it like this, then: You go and help Y/N with her cardio whatever stuff, and Taehyung and I just watch. We promise to shut up, unless you’re doing something seriously embarrassing. Other than that, absolute silence.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “You promise you two won’t tell me what to say?”

“Promise.” Yoongi nodded. He looked very sincere. “We won’t talk to you.” 

“I can live with that, yeah,” Jungkook agreed, leaning against the bathroom sink. “Sounds good.”

“Perfect.” He smiled. “Trust me, Jungkook. I only made one mistake in my life.”

Jungkook smirked. “And it killed you.”

“Not the point.” He raised one finger, clearly annoyed, then pointed it at Jungkook. “You’ll do great. It’s not like you’re gonna tell her about us or something.” 

He laughed. “Yeah, that’d be awful.” 

________________

But that was, ultimately, what he did.

To be fair, it was never Jungkook’s intention. He was completely sure that it would ruin not only his friendship with you, as it would also ruin his reputation, both as a student and as a future physician. Come on, how would he even explain that? How could he tell anyone that he not only saw two obnoxious ghosts, but that they were there to give him romantic (and sometimes sexual) advice? That’s insanity. 

Spoiler: he didn’t explain it very well. 

In the cosmic perspective, however, it was kind of Yoongi’s fault too. He had the problem of giving away too much sometimes, especially when he was alone and free from Taehyung’s scrutiny. And it was that extra bit of information that catalyzed the explosion that would become Jungkook’s confession. 

For some reason or another, Taehyung hadn’t joined the two of them that day, as Jungkook crossed the campus towards your place. For the first time in a long time, their conversation — which was, again, masked by Jungkook pretending to be on the phone — was actually quite pleasant. Yoongi had told him a bit more about his life back in the day and explained that he was studying to become a lawyer when he died. 

“I was thinking of dropping out anyways,” he said. “I just picked a random thing to study because I didn’t know what I wanted to do. And, well, I kind of did drop off. Just not from the course.” 

Jungkook could not help but laugh at the absurdness of it all. Sad coincidences aside, it was unusual for Yoongi to make jokes about his death. Taehyung was much more open about it, but Yoongi seemed to be very bitter because of the way and the time he passed. But of course, who was Jungkook to judge? 

“You know,” Yoongi started after a moment of quietude. “Taehyung and I were pretty surprised that day at the mall.”

Jungkook frowned. “Hm? Why is that?” 

The other man chuckled. “Honestly? Because you’re dumber than we thought.”

Seems like pleasant times didn’t last much between the two of them. “We’ve established that I can’t talk to girls, Yoongi, I know.” Jungkook really wanted to change the subject. 

“No, not that,” he denied. “Let’s go back a little. Remember what we told you in your bedroom that night? To get the physiology girl.”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, what about it?”

Yoongi laughed, amazed that Jungkook still didn’t get it. “You called the wrong one, idiot,” he explained. 

“What?” Jungkook paused in his tracks and, in a mindless reflex, forgot he was supposed to be talking on the phone, and looked directly at Yoongi, lowering the device away from his ear. “There is a right one?” 

“Hey, pay attention to your surroundings.” Yoongi pointed at a couple that also stopped, confused at the man’s actions. Jungkook cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure after that minor instant of public humiliation, and placed the phone back against his ear. “Let’s keep walking.”

With his heart beating insanely fast against his chest, Jungkook did as he was told. His mind was flooded with fragmented thoughts, working around words that seemed so simple, yet held so much.

“Yes, there is a right one — and you’re going towards her right now.” Yoongi responded, placing his ghostly hands inside his ghostly pockets. Jungkook never noticed that he still used the clothes that he had on when he died, but Yoongi wouldn’t be the first one to mention. “So don’t make a fool out of yourself. Not this time.” 

Jungkook swallowed dry, feeling as panic started to climb up his lower limbs, weighing down on his muscles. His throat was dry as a desert and forming sentences proved to be a far more difficult task than he had anticipated. The air around campus had suddenly become hot for an autumn day, unable to enter his lungs with ease. He really was two steps away from a full-blown anxiety attack. 

Yoongi frowned. “You good?” 

Jungkook licked his lips, only half aware of his actions. “Y-Yeah,” he struggled to get out. “Just kind of a bomb that you just dropped on me, that’s all.” 

Yoongi nodded, uninterested. “Yeah. Get over it. It’s not a huge deal.” 

Only, it was. For Jungkook, at least. What if you two were… you know? Meant to be? Like the soulmates kind of thing; star-crossed lovers. Like in the “we got married after two months of dating and we are still together after sixty years” kind of insane love? That was a lot to process, a lot to think about, especially when he was having like three different crises at once. It was a recipe for a disaster. 

Jungkook really was dumb when it came to anything besides his textbooks, but not for jumping into those conclusions. Frankly, most people would’ve been a bit overwhelmed by that. 

No, his problem would reside on his next thought: If you two were meant to be, you would understand if, for some reason, he had to tell you about his ghosts, right? 

Right?

_______________

To be fair with Yoongi, he did keep his promise. The two didn’t interrupt your conversation once, even if sometimes the moment begged for it, and Jungkook was two words away from ruining everything. Strangely enough, things seemed to work themselves out — the horrible jokes that Jungkook uttered seemed to suit your sense of humor; the shy and nervous demeanor that plagued his dates slowly melted away. It was good — in fact, it was the best talk he’s had with someone in a long, long time. 

The issue was that, as much as the two of them didn’t talk directly to Jungkook, they still talked. 

“What was that thing that she said, you know, to her friends?” Yoongi mumbled, his words coming out as a vague connection of syllables being formed at the corner of his mouth. He had his arms crossed, and his legs pushed up on the couch. “You told me that.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung took a moment to think. He had one of his hands buried deep inside the pockets of his white pants, and the other on the back of the couch. The two of them watched the conversation that unfolded above your living room table, the two of you trying to make sense of a subject that seemed to change every five minutes. “It was like ‘homeboy can like, get it’... or something.” 

Yoongi nodded, satisfied. “Nice.” 

Jungkook cleared his throat, trying to ignore that comment. It wasn’t news that you were interested in him — that had been the only thing Yoongi and Taehyung had told him for the past few hours, but it was very, very awkward to know those specific details. He was sure he wouldn’t like you to know the private conversations that he had with his friends, even less about the things he thought about when he was alone. There was something extremely violating about that, but, no matter how hard he tried to convince them, the two ghosts didn’t seem to care enough to stop. 

The giggle that came from across the table ruptured his thoughts. “Why are you blushing?” You asked.

“I’m… uh…” he struggled, suddenly feeling the heat that emanated from his cheeks. Wonderful. Even when he was just thinking about something, he still managed to make a fool of himself. “Just… thinking about some embarrassing things I did in third grade. The usual.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been there.” You smiled, reaching for the textbook across the table, and flipping through the pages. “I ruined this entire science project once. It was something about the pollination of flowers, but I missed that class. Ended up coming back to a lot of roses around the classroom, and decided to take a few of them home to my mom.”

“Oh no.” 

“Yep,” you nodded, looking back at him. Jungkook thought that he had lost himself in your eyes for a moment, a depth so engulfing that he couldn’t find the right words once he stared at it. He had never noticed how beautiful you were — or, rather, he had, but he had never stopped to think about it — and, now, it seemed as if that was the only thing that he could focus on. “Everyone in class was super pissed, the teacher even tried to suspend me.”

He shook his head, trying to imagine a mini-you justifying your flower thievery in front of the principal. “That’s insane, actually.”

“Kind of.” You shrugged, looking back at the book. You weren’t sure what you were searching for anymore, so you decided to close it. You two had been studying for almost four hours straight, you didn’t think that your brain could handle any more of that. “They didn’t really believe me when I told them it was a mistake. Guess no one even noticed my absence the day before, which is… somehow… even worse, now that I think about it.” 

A giggle reverberated in your throat as you dove into those forgotten memories, and Jungkook followed you. 

“Don’t laugh at child me, that’s so cruel.” You smiled. 

“I’m not.” He shook his head. “I just thought you were cute. Still are, you never really stopped being cute, I mean. You’re actually really pretty now, like a woman—” 

“I got it.” You placed your hands over his, and the shock of your skin against his seemed to spread throughout his entire body. He didn’t know if that was a soulmate thing of if he was just really horny. Probably a bit of both. “Don’t worry about it. You’re pretty cute too. Like a man.”  

“Thanks.” Jungkook itched the back of his neck, trying to find the right words to build his sentence. Panic began bubbling at the bottom of his stomach, sinking its teeth into his flesh as his words left his throat. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.” 

It was the right time now: the studying was over, the conversation was flowing, you had told him that you thought he was cute — like a man. Now, he just needed to ask you out. Just that. That’s it. Three words. He had practiced: Wanna go out? That’s it. So casual. So playboy-esque. He could do it. No pressure. If you were the one, he didn’t have much to get wrong. 

But, oh my god, what if he got everything wrong? I mean, how many stories are out there of couples who were destined for each other, but something happened and it pulled them apart forever? The wrong time, the wrong place — the wrong words. Jungkook wasn’t psychologically prepared to ruin something so huge with a moment so small. He needed to calm down and focus. Just get the words out. Everything would sort itself out after that. He had faith. 

“What is it?” You asked. 

Jungkook cleared his throat, his eyes still glued to the touch of your hand against his. Outside, birds were chirping, unaware of the absolute shitstorm that was about to ensue. “So…” he started, “I was thinking that maybe I could— I mean, you — I mean we could...”

You tilted your head to the side, confused. “Sorry, what was that?” 

He blinked once, twice, fighting against the wave of sheer terror that had taken over his brain, whitening out his thoughts. He had the sentence ready, but he had forgotten how to form it. “I’m just trying… I’m just trying here to just…” He swallowed dryly. “I was just wondering if you would like to… I mean, if it’s not a problem—”

From the other side of the room, Yoongi groaned. “Just do it! You’re making eternity so much longer.”

And that’s when it happened. 

Jungkook turned around and yelled: “You told me you wouldn’t talk, you asshole!”

The entire room froze. A horrible moment of bewildered reticence followed as  the realization crashed upon him like a gigantic wave. He couldn’t have just yelled at nothing in front of you, like an absolute madman, could he? 

Your eyes widened and you pulled your hand away from his. The lack of warmth was like a dagger being thrown directly into his heart. “Excuse me?”

Yep. He totally did that. 

“Not you!” He was quick to turn around — maybe a bit too quick, too intensely. Even with nervousness clouding his vision, Jungkook could still see the shadow of fear and confusion mingling amongst your features. He had ruined everything, and that was all that he could think about. “I’m just... personalizing my anxiety...”

“Are you... alright?” You spoke slowly, measuring his actions. Jungkook had changed from cute-nervous to absolutely-unhinged-nervous; eyes widened and jaw clenched; hands gripping the wooden chair like his life depended on it. Maybe that study session was a mistake. Maybe you should’ve just googled an online class, like your best friend told you to. “It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Taehyung chuckled. “That’s pretty funny.” 

And, if the situation wasn’t already bad enough, Jungkook started to convince himself that perhaps it would be a good idea to come clean with you about his psychic abilities — maybe that was actually the only way that he could get out of that mess. If you were his soulmate, you’d understand. It’d all be okay. Yeah, maybe you’d be seriously creeped out for like the first twenty minutes, just like he had been, but eventually you’d understand what had happened. You two would laugh about it later, maybe when you were sixty, on your rocking chairs somewhere, staring lovingly at a cornfield. 

Was he losing it? Probably. But he didn’t have the right amount of mental clarity to fully think about the consequences of his actions in that moment. 

“I… did,” Jungkook spoke sluggishly, barely comprehending the trail of words that dripped from his tongue. His voice was much calmer, but he could still feel like his entire body was engulfed by flames. “I did... see a ghost. Two actually.” 

You frowned. This afternoon couldn’t possibly get any worse. “What are you talking about?” 

“Jungkook, don’t you dare,” Yoongi warned, but his voice seemed to come from miles away. 

Slowly, as if he wasn’t really aware of his own body moving, Jungkook adjusted his position on the chair, looking down at the sea of handwritten notes in front of him. He wished that human interaction was as easy as the types of pulmonary volumes, or perhaps the changes of oxygen inside the hemoglobin. That he knew. That he could deal with.

“Ok so, have you ever watched The Emperor’s New Groove?”

You blinked twice, puzzled. “What?”

“The Disney movie,” he clarified, looking up at you. 

You shook your head, measuring how long it would take for you to bolt out of the door and run away from your own apartment. Maybe you could get out and then call someone for help. You wished you had already taken Psychiatry. “I know what that is, Jungkook, but I just don’t understand where you’re getting at.”

“Maybe it’s in the TV series that came after the movie, I don’t know, but Kronk has these two little beings on his shoulders, a devil and an angel.” He cleared his throat, and looked back at the sheets of paper. It was so hard to stare at you now, when just seconds before, it had been so easy. “I kinda have the same thing, only, they’re dead people. You know, ghosts. And they’re not on my shoulders — that’d be pretty awful, actually.” 

Taehyung mumbled from across the room, “I really don’t think this is a good idea, Jungkook.” 

“You’re making no sense right now,” you said, worried about the effect that your words could have on him. “I think… I think it would be better if you left.” 

“I can see dead people, okay?” Jungkook interrupted, exasperated. You had to understand. You were the right girl from physiology class, you had to understand. 

“Okay, Sixth Sense.” You laughed nervously. Bad time for a joke, you thought, but the boy barely seemed to process it. “Listen, I can tell you’re not doing very well right now, so you should probably leave, maybe clear your head a bit. You already helped me a lot—”

“No, I don’t need that. My head is clear—”

“You know, there is a very good mental health clinic in campus, I’ve gone there already, and I think—” 

“No! I don’t need mental health, it’s true!” Jungkook stood up, walking towards the couch, where the two dead men sat. There was an unspoken contest in the room to see who could be more flabbergasted at the boy’s actions, and you and Yoongi were in a close tie. “I can prove it.” 

You almost choked on air. “You what?” 

Jungkook pointed at nothing. “They’re here right now, I can prove it to you.”

Discombobulated, you shook your head one more time. Maybe if you did that enough, your chaotic thoughts would just fall out of your ears, and everything would be much clearer. Maybe that was a prank, maybe that was a full-blown psychotic breakdown. You just didn’t really know what to do from there. “Jungkook, I don’t think—” 

“Come on, just show yourself to her!” He yelled into the air, more specifically at your white couch. You just wanted to study cardiology, how did it end up like this? “Give me a sign, I don’t know.”

Yoongi chuckled, completely amazed by the way Jungkook continuously broke the Dumb Records that he had previously set himself. No bonus in heaven would be worth dealing with Mr. Smooth Brain over there. He should’ve gone for the orphans instead. “I cannot believe you right now.” He stood up from the couch and sighed, utterly defeated. Maybe he could just get it over with, and then The Big Man Upstairs would show him a bit of mercy. “But I guess now there isn’t much to lose. I’m only doing this because at least it would make this situation a bit better.” 

“How?” Taehyung asked. 

“There’s a slight improvement between psychotic crisis and psychic abilities,” Yoongi responded. He walked towards the window, rolled his eyes at the pathetic presentation of supernatural phenomena, and pulled on the white curtains of your living room. “Here. Boo! Paranormal activity.” 

“Did you see that?” Jungkook asked, excited. 

However, instead of meeting a surprised gaze, he only saw panic and preoccupation swimming inside your eyes. “The curtain moving? Yeah. That was the wind, Jungkook.” You stood up from the chair, measuring your chances at escaping. He was getting more and more erratic, and you didn’t know where the situation could escalate to next. “You’re seriously freaking me out right now. You’re being really aggressive about this.” 

“Yoongi, you’re worse than the spirits in Ghost Hunters,” Taehyung groaned, reappearing next to your living room table. “You have to be bold, that’s what I always say. Make a statement.”

Taehyung’s statement, of course, had been the biggest slap against a lamp that Jungkook had ever witnessed in his life. The ghosts had once told him that it took them a huge amount of concentrated energy to do something as little as move a napkin, so there was no way that Taehyung wouldn’t be exhausted after making that heavy piece of furniture fly against the wall, shattering into a million little pieces with a loud noise. 

“What the fuck?” Jungkook asked. “That was so dangerous! She could’ve gotten hurt.”

He shrugged. “You asked.” 

“What the fuck was that?” You yelled, taking your hands to your face. Was that shared hysteria? What did you just see? Maybe you were the one who needed fresh air and a shrink visit. “You’re pranking me, right? You have like a nylon string wrapped around your hands or something.”

Jungkook moved his head in denial, raising his hands up in a sigh of defeat. “I swear to God, it’s true.” 

“I don’t… I don’t believe you,” you said, clearly terrified. Not at the idea of ghosts, Jungkook realized, but of him. That date surely couldn’t have gone any better. 

Yoongi sighed and materialized behind Jungkook. Lost causes, Yoongi was surrounded by lost causes. “If you really want her to believe you, tell her we can say some stuff about her, but it’ll probably freak her out.”

“They are saying that they can convince you by saying some stuff about you.” Jungkook swallowed dry. Something inside him was screaming for him to just shut the fuck up and leave your building. If there was something he learned by being with the two undead pricks, is that they could always make a situation worse. 

But desperate times require desperate measures. 

You adjusted your posture. Trepidation was still very present in your face, but there was also a small spark of interest swimming somewhere inside your eyes. “I seriously doubt that.” 

“I can show you,” he said. “Just… don’t freak out.”

“Fine.” You licked your lips in anticipation. “The name of my first pet.”

“Is this a password verification?” Yoongi groaned. He just wanted to watch Twitches later that day, but Jungkook just had to start a seance in someone else’s room. Again: the orphans would never. “Fine. It was Mr. Green, a tortoise she killed by leaving to dry in the asphalt.” 

“It was a tortoise, Mr. Green. You left it on the asphalt and it died,” Jugkook repeated without hesitation. 

You blinked twice, taking in the answer. “This is so fucking weird. How did you know that?”

“Yoongi told me.” Jungkook pointed over his shoulder, where Yoongi stared you down. Just by looking in that direction, you felt a shiver run down your spine. You were losing it. “He’s, you know, one of the ghosts.” 

“I’ve never been so exhausted in my life.” You placed one hand against the chair, leaning against it. There was no use to keep that conversation going, and you both knew it — and yet, just like a politician lying, it just didn’t stop. “But you could’ve asked anyone that.”

It was Jungkook’s turn to become completely lost. “Why would I ask such a specific question? I don’t even know your friends.” 

Behind him, he heard another loud groan. “I’m so done with this.” Yoongi placed his hand on his shoulder. “Let me talk, Jungkook.” 

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” He asked.

Yoongi snorted. “We are all out of good ideas. But I think this is the best chance you’ve got.”

“Who are you talking to?” You almost yelled. 

Jungkook looked back at you and, for some reason, the preoccupation in his eyes scared you even further. “Okay, this is going to be really weird, alright? But it’s not gonna be me talking.”

“What?” 

“It’s like… a kind of possession,” he explained, gesticulating a bit more than socially acceptable. “It’s like… uh… One of them is going to use my mouth for a bit. Talk through me.” 

You laughed, and there was a high-pitched sort of timbre to it. That might as well happen. “Sure, of course. What else? Exorcism live?” You asked. 

“Just give me the permission,” Yoongi commanded. 

Jungkook took in a deep breath, and clenched his hands into fists. He hated that part. “Fine,” he consented. 

Gradually, the muscles around his mouth and throat grew numb, as if Jungkook had entered a dream, and his body was responding in autopilot. There was an awful pressure on his shoulders and a ringing in his ears as Yoongi accommodated himself around his body, reaching for control. That was the closest he would ever feel to being a ventriloquist’s puppet, and it was as bad as it could be. 

Yoongi spoke through him with ease: “You told your friends last week that you didn’t care if Jungkook was a shy virgin who played minecraft because he was exactly your type. You also said that your average score in physiology is ninety-seven percent and you didn’t need any help. You just needed an excuse to stay with him. Happy?” 

Jungkook inhaled sharply as the pressure on his body subsided, the numb sensation around his neck growing thinner by the second. “So violating,” he complained. 

“How did you know that?” Your voice shook him back to reality. Both of you were reaching new levels of terror every minute. “Are you stalking me?”

That back and forth was starting to get exhausting. “That wasn’t me. That was Yoongi,” he tried once again. He was starting to think that the whole thing had been a bad idea. 

“Well, fuck you, Yoongi,” you spat. 

Yoongi scoffed. “Fuck you too, princess. Maybe you really don’t deserve this man.”

“I’m not saying that,” Jungkook whispered to him, then turned back to look at you. He wanted to hug you and magically erase your memories for that afternoon, but, in reality, he couldn’t even move his legs without feeling like he could fall face-down on the floor. He really, really, really hated possession. “I’m just… I’m sorry about that.” 

“About what, Danny Phantom?” You asked, throwing your hands up in an exasperated gesture. And there it was: from panic to complete fury. That was all that you two needed at that moment. “About making me scared shitless, or about exposing me like this?” 

He suspired. “Do you at least believe in me now?” 

“Does it look like I believe in you, Jungkook?” You practically screamed. Truth was: neither of you knew that for sure. “I’m a woman of science, you can’t expect me to believe that—”

Taehyung groaned, walking closer to Jungkook. It must’ve been a world record how quickly everyone in that room got angry. “Let me talk,” he requested. 

Jungkook sighed, defeated. How much worse could it possibly get? “Go ahead,” he said.

There it was again: the feeling of being under anesthesia, the weight of an entire other being pressed down against his shoulders. Good times. “Yesterday,” he started, “you masturbated to the thought of Jungkook, but you forgot to recharge your vibrator so you had to use your fingers and you complained the entire time. Explain that, science woman.”

Another deep gasp, and Jungkook was folding over, finding balance on his knees. He really felt like he couldn’t even think straight anymore, his mind covered by a thick fog. 

You didn’t seem to be in a much different situation either. “I’m… gonna pass out.” 

“That was so unnecessary, Taehyung,” Jungkook whispered. His mouth was terribly dry, and his hands were shaking. “You guys really don’t know your limits.” 

“Taehyung? Who the fuck is that?” You screamed. 

Taehyung crossed his arms. “Hey, at least she believes you now.”

“He’s the other ghost. The one with no sense of boundaries.” Jungkook stared at Taehyung, clearly pissed off. Maybe his voice would’ve come out a bit more forceful if he didn’t get thrown around by sadistic spirits. “I’m sorry about that.” 

You shook your head, dumbfounded. “I need you to leave now. And take your ghosts with you.” You leaned over the table, and grabbed his notes, shoving them into a messy pile. Not that you were super worried about the integrity of the paper at a time like that. “This has really crossed like... every line.” 

Jungkook licked his lips, trying to find the right words to say. Someway, he managed to get his legs firm enough so he could start walking in your direction. “Please, I didn’t mean to—” 

You shoved the pile of notes into his backpack, and then the backpack into his hands. Before he could react, you grabbed him by the arm, guiding him towards the exit. “Thanks for helping me, Jungkook.” The door opened with a forceful pull, and you shoved him into the hall. “Never speak to me again. Bye.” 

The bang of the door slamming shut was horribly loud, reverberating inside Jungkook’s chest for a moment longer. Now that the possession daze was starting to move away from his body, the boy could feel the traces of panic crawling inside him. 

Jungkook dropped his backpack to the ground, and started knocking on your door. “Y/N, please!” He called. “I’m so sorry about everything. You have to believe me!” 

Your yell came muffled from the other side of the door. “Go away!” you screamed. “Or I’m calling the cops!”

Defeated, he closed his eyes and placed his forehead against the wood. Now that the situation had already climaxed, the absurdity of it all was starting to become much more palpable. 

How could Jungkook be so stupid? How could he think that you would act normally as you were exposed to the supernatural world? Especially in such distressing, violating ways. Even if you were his meant-to-be, his forever person, it would be ridiculous to believe that anyone would take all  in that with ease. He really outdid himself that time. 

“Let her be, you two can talk another time,”  Yoongi spoke, leaning against the wall. It was possible to see all the places that the pain was starting to crack through his semi-translucent form. “Good attempt, though. I’d give you a star for trying.” 

“This is not funny,” Jungkook mumbled, moving away from the door so you couldn’t hear him. The artificial lights above his head were sharp, buzzing mockingly. “You two keep saying that you’re here to help me, but you keep making stuff like this happen. If she really did like me, you just ruined everything.”

Yoongi raised one eyebrow. “Why do you care so much about that one?”

Jungkook glanced at him. “You told me she’s the one.”

He frowned, crossing his arms. “I told you she was the right girl from physiology class, not that you two were going to die holding hands or something,” Yoongi told him. “You filled the blanks yourself.”

“That’s why we don’t give away all those details,” Taehyung scolded Yoongi, looking at him up and down. Jungkook had never seen him so irritated before — at least not about serious things. “You know we could get in real big trouble if someone heard about that. Which, correct me if I’m wrong, it’s kind of the entire deal of heaven to know about stuff.” 

“I know, I know,” Yoongi groaned, disregarding his preoccupations. Maybe Taehyung didn’t understand his galaxy-brain plan yet, but he was sure that the heavens would. Or at least he hoped so. “But I think there’s something else that we need to focus on. Jungkook wouldn’t care this much about the other girls he dated, even if it was meant to be.” 

“Why are you two talking like I’m not here?” Jungkook asked, annoyed. 

“Why are you talking to yourself like you’re not in a corridor of an apartment building?” Yoongi threw back. Without a second of hesitation, Jungkook picked up his backpack and turned on his heels, walking down the hall, completely done with them. “Hey, come back. Just tell me what’s the fuzz with this one.” 

He didn’t look back. “Aren’t you two supposed to know? All-knowing and shit.” 

“We want to hear it from you,” Yoongi pressed on. 

Jungkook opened the heavy door to the stairwell, allowing for it to hit behind him. Taehyung and Yoongi passed right through it, of course, and kept following him as he quickly moved down the concrete steps. “Y/N is my friend.”

Yoongi hummed. “Go on.”

“Isn’t that enough for a justification? What else do you want from me?” He inquired, aggressive. The sound of his steps echoed like drums through the expansion of the staircase, and he hoped that no one else had been listening to his apparent monologue. “I don’t wanna ruin this friendship by talking about her masturbation techniques, I don’t know if that makes the situation super unique.” 

Taehyung clicked his tongue. “You have other friends.” 

“I care for her, alright?” Jungkook turned around abruptly, making the two ghosts stop in their tracks. Taehyung had almost lost his balance, but it wasn’t as if that could have any serious consequences for him. 

Jungkook sighed, trying to control the anger that had built up so rapidly, and continued speaking. “I care for her more than other friends. Fuck, is that what you two wanted to hear? Besides, it’s not like I know anyone better than her.  I didn’t even think I had a chance with someone like that until you told me. She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s like… super hot when she’s mad—”

“Oh, would you look at that.” Yoongi grinned, satisfied. “Jungkook’s whipped.”

“What?” His eyes widened. “I’m not.”

“Why are you so red?” Taehyung asked.

Jungkook covered his face, feeling the heat of his checks emanating against his palms. “I’m not!”

“Okay, okay, calm down, tiger,” Yoongi raised his hands in a silent request for forgiveness.  They were still a few steps above Jungkook, and the whole scene looked like something straight out of the Book of Revelation. “This is a good thing, we actually thought it would never happen. It’s not like you’ve been this introspective in what… five years? More even.” 

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Yoongi sighed, and looked at Taehyung for confirmation. The other ghost nodded in a silent agreement, and Yoongi started to speak. “Listen, we’re here to help you, but we didn’t say everything,” he admitted. “We couldn’t, really, otherwise it wouldn’t be so... organic.”

“What?” 

“Jungkook, you were desperate to lose your virginity,” Yoongi explained. “You still are, in a way. And that’s not a good thing, because you’ll get the first thing that moves and you’ll try to stick your dick in it.”

Taehyung chuckled drily, looking at a fixed point. “Which is not a good idea, believe me,” he spoke in a mumble, and Jungkook could not help but think that his advice came from personal experience. That, of course, was a story for other, less sober times. 

“Is that why the two of you always interrupt me?” He asked, a bit offended. “Because those girls weren’t right for me? Like this is a purity cult or something?” 

“Eh.” Yoongi did a so-so gesture with his hand. “Kind of. Not really. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you actually feel something for this girl, something beyond the thoughts that come from your lower head.”

“And she feels something for you too, even after that trainwreck that we just witnessed in there,” Taehyung added patiently. “Which will help us a lot in the long run.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Jungkook crossed his arms, stubborn. He really could look and sound like a child throwing a tantrum when he wanted to. “I still don’t get it. It wasn’t your place to tell me who I could or couldn’t be with, it’s not as if you guys are—” 

“Jungkook, that’s enough,” Taehyung interrupted him. “You don’t think it makes sense? Stop and think for once in your life.” 

He narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?” 

Taehyung glanced at him. “Listen, we just saved you from months of wrong dates and wrong nights. We pushed away people who didn’t really care about you, who just wanted you to use you, or who would end up cheating on you anyways. Not everyone gets this privilege,” he said, completely done with that victim mentality. “So, for once in your life, be grateful. Be grateful for the bad dates,  the embarrassment, the times that it didn’t work out. And, look, we are sorry for the way they had to go down, it wasn’t as funny as it seemed from our perspective. But if you didn’t have those bad dates, you’d have very, very bad months following them. So you’re welcome.” 

“And all those bad dates lead you to the right person,” Yoongi completed, watching as Jungkook’s expression withered into shame. He was staring to get it — they could almost see the hamster in his brain start running. “Now, listen, we don’t know if this is the for-life situation, that’s not the kind of information we have, alright? Do I look like a seraphin to you? No. But does it matter?  No. Most relationships aren’t the for-life thing anyways, but they are here to teach you something. And if the afterlife thought that there was something good for you here, who are we to judge?” 

“Yeah,” Taehyung agreed. “Now, can you  please forget about all those past people and just focus on her? Maybe shut the fuck up while you do that? I get that you wanted to get your dick wet, but there’s a time and a place for that.” 

The boy sighed, and leaned against the red handrails. It took Jungkook a few seconds to speak out. “I feel like I’ve just been lectured by my parents,” he admitted. 

Taehyung relaxed his shoulders. “Good,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to slap some sense into you for months now, but I didn’t really have the permission.” 

“Feel better?” Jungkook asked.

He nodded. “Much better.”

“I’m happy for you,” he said. Jungkook ran one hand through his dark hair, pushing back the strands that had fallen over his eyes. “And about Y/N… There’s no way she’ll ever talk to me after this mess. I ruined everything.”

Taehyung nodded. “You pretty much did, yeah.” 

“You took the worst case scenario and managed to make it even more horrible,” Yoongi said. “It’s pretty impressive, actually.” 

“Thanks, that’s great.” Jungkook chuckled, humorless. He could always count on them for emotional support. “But, I mean… What do I do now? I mean, is there anything that we could do to save this?” 

“Worry not, my child,” Yoongi smirked, crossing his arms. “Taehyung and I are masters of seduction, and we’re here to help you. Just trust us.” 

“And before you say something,” Taehyung interrupted, raising one finger. “You never had the right girl before, so we weren’t really trying. I think we can find some real solid ground here.” 

Jungkook breathed out, and looked down at the grey stairs. Yeah, it’s not like he wasn’t at the bottom of the well already. “Fine. One last chance,” he agreed, looking back at the ghosts. “Just tell me what I have to do.”

______________

Much to Jungkook’s delight, he didn’t need to muster up the courage to talk to you, because you did that first. 

For the first time in their lives (and deaths), Yoongi and Taehyung actually did something right. Jungkook didn’t really know the details of their plan, all that he knew was that they would find a way to “make you see what you were missing” so that you would “come crawling back to him”. Which didn’t sound threatening at all.

 Countless possibilities crossed Jungkook’s head — horror movie hauntings, Taehyung invading your dreams with claws for fingers, Yoongi with a wet wig crawling out of your TV — but, in the end, no matter how much he insisted, the two of them just wouldn’t say a word. Apparently, there was a lot going on backstage that Jungkook had no idea about, so he should just “take it easy” and wait for the sequence of events to unravel. Amazing. Now he knew how the characters in Final Destination felt. 

“Just be patient, young one,” Taehyung had told him, thrown over his couch like a Victorian monarch. “All you need to know is that she will be back. Everything else it’s just… details.” 

And, two weeks after the dormitory incident, you did. 

There was a muffled thud as you placed your large books over the wooden table, and sat down across from him. The silence of the library didn’t allow for Jungkook to foresee your arrival, and to meet your gaze so suddenly was enough for his face to burn up in shame, his heart drumming against his ribcage. His sympathetic system really needed to quit with that bullshit before he collapsed. 

“Hey,” you mumbled, seeming just as uncomfortable as he was. “Can we talk? You know what about.”

The boy swallowed dry, and leaned a bit forward. “Y-Yeah, sure,” he whispered back. “I’m really sorry, Y/N, I don’t know why I thought—”

“For how long?” you sliced his sentence short, making his lips fall shut. 

Jungkook raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What?”

You cleared your throat, and shuffled on your seat. As much as the library was practically empty, neither of you felt courageous enough to use your usual voice tone — especially when dealing with that subject. “How long have you been able to, you know, see them?”

Jungkook took a second to respond, licking his dry lips and looking at the line of bookshelves as if seeking for the right thing to say. He felt awkward enough just interacting with someone from the opposite sex, but talking about the ghosts he saw? Hell, that bordered on a panic attack. Especially after the circus show that was that past study session. “Almost two years now, I think,” he finally answered. “But they told me they’ve been around for a bit longer. I just couldn’t see it.” 

You shook your head in concordance, even if the information was everything but easy to understand. “That’s crazy,” you spoke. “I don’t know how you deal with it.” 

Jungkook let out a dry chuckle. “Not very well, as you can probably tell.” 

 “I don’t think I can judge you. I didn’t precisely react well either.” You swallowed dry, wide eyes flickering on the world behind Jungkook. “Are we alone now?”

As much as he already knew the answer, he looked around just to check. “Surprisingly, yeah,” Jungkook responded, slightly suspicious. Yoongi and Taehyung were always looking over his shoulder and throwing him into messy situations, he couldn’t tell why they weren’t there when, quite frankly, it was their perfect shot at humiliation. Maybe they really were doing their jobs for once. “I don’t know why they’re not here. That’s weird.”

You shrugged as if to say that you wouldn’t know either. “What are their names again?”

“Yoongi and Taehyung,” he answered, then waited another second to see if he could feel their presence. Nothing again. That was really strange — they often responded upon being called. “Listen, Y/N, I hate what we went through. They had no right to say those things. I’m used to the privacy issues, since I have been with them for a while. But you aren’t, and I can only imagine how weird you felt hearing all that. I’m really, really sorry.”

You pressed your lips together which, Jungkook guessed, was a failed attempt to suppress the rubor that exploded across your cheeks. He couldn’t blame you, though, for there were limits that were crossed. “I’m over it if you are,” was what you forced yourself to say. 

“I am,” he lied. None of you were particularly good at not telling the truth, and that was pretty obvious. But ignoring it was a start. 

“Good, okay.” You cleared your throat, placing the palms of your hands against the pile of books. “Sorry for lying about needing help in physiology, and all that. I just needed an excuse to spend more time with you, as you know now. I guess it’s obvious that I kinda have a huge crush on you.”

“It’s fine.” Jungkook laughed, extremely relieved to notice that your last sentence was in present tense. “I kinda have a huge crush on you too.” 

Honestly, even if it wasn’t for life, he’d have to give you props for still liking a guy that had had a borderline psychotic breakdown in your apartment, talked about your pet tortoise, and your masturbation technique, and still had the nerve to expose you to the supernatural world. It was a lot. Good on you for taking it like a champ. 

“And,” he continued, “sorry for using my ghosts to expose your secrets. I just needed to find a way for you to believe me, and I had no idea about what they were going to say. I was pretty much in a frenzied state, I wasn’t thinking straight. It won’t happen again.” 

“Apologies accepted.” You smiled, relieved. You were really beautiful, Jungkook thought in a breathless instant. He could look at you all day. “You know, it’s going to take me some time to get used to all that. I mean, I’m still not a hundred percent sure I believe in everything, but, I… My lamp flew across the room, and you told me things that you simply couldn’t know about. So, if it’s a prank, it’s a really good one.”

“I know how it is.” He nodded in agreement. “It was really difficult for me at first, too. I understand if you’d rather just stay away from me from now on.” 

You sighed, looking down at your books —  the two mammoth-sized volumes of Harrison’s Internal Medicine staring at you in mockery. “Weird thing is: I don’t really want to.” You crossed your arms and leaned back against the chair. Was that the sound of angels singing? Jungkook couldn’t tell. “I’d love to spend more time with you. Alone, if possible. And that counts both planes of existence.” 

“Sounds fair, I’d love that.” Jungkook smiled. As he met your eyes, he was filled with a  warm, rose-colored courage that he had never felt before. “Actually, I was wondering if, you know… you wanna do something? With me? Alone, of course. No ghosts. One of these days, I don’t know. If you’re not busy—”

You raised your eyebrows, interested. “You’re asking me out?”

He sighed, shoulders falling in defeat. “Trying, yeah. You can see I’m not the best at that either.”

Your smile grew a little. “That’s a big yes.”

“Really?” Jungkook stared at you like a lost puppy, his mind going completely blank for a second or two. The hamster in his brain was now somersaulting through his body, landing on his stomach and hitting him with a wave of nausea. “Wow, thanks. I don’t really have an idea of what we could do, though. Didn’t think I’d get that far.”

There was an instant of quietude as you thought for a moment, the space between the two of you permeated by the vague sounds of pages turning. “Movies?” You asked. 

“Sounds great.” Jungkook smiled openly, his shoulders falling in alleviation. He didn’t know what Taehyung and Yoongi had done, but he was beyond thankful for it. Seemed like their sacrifices weren’t in vain, after all. “The film majors are doing this 2000’s marathon this week. I think this Saturday it’ll be either Mean Girls or 17 Again.”

“I’m in,” you spoke excitedly. “I’ll be there, just text me the details.”

Jungkook almost swallowed his own tongue as he watched you stand up, presenting him with a gorgeous view of thighs beneath the level of your skirt. “Great!” He exclaimed a bit too loud, his voice a bit too high-pitched, awakening his inner thirteen-year-old. He cleared his throat, lowering his voice another octave. “I mean, yeah, great. Thank you for… saying yes.”

“Thank you for asking.” You placed your hair behind your shoulder, and leaned in to pick up the heavy pile of books. All nine kilos of Internal Medicine. 

“See you there,” he said. 

You smiled. “See you, Kookie.” 

Jungkook watched you walk away as if he was floating in a fever dream, completely unable to believe what had just unfolded. Did he seriously manage to get a date with you? Of all people? He must’ve been hallucinating. Maybe he ended up falling down the stairwell and died, perhaps that was his heaven, and he would— 

Behind him, Taehyung sneered. “Kookie? You’re getting softer than your dick.” 

Jungkook turned around so brusquely that the chair tilted back and, if it wasn’t for him holding down to the corner of the table, he would’ve fallen to the ground. “You two were there all along?” He whispered-screamed. Before he could land a sermon on them, though, he met the devilish smirk that was plastered all over Yoongi’s features. Oh no. No. The movies. “No, Yoongi, I know what you’re thinki—”

“Get in, loser, we’re going to the movies.” 

_________________

Saturday rolled around and, with it, came your much anticipated movie date. Jungkook had spent the previous night tossing and turning on his bed, completely monopolized by anxiety, thinking about every possible apocalyptic scenario that could go down. What if he tried to take a slip of his drink, but ended up blinding himself with the straw? Maybe he would step on the wrong chord and set the entire college on fire. Or maybe he would trip, fall down on a poor girl, and kill her on the spot. That would be awful, you would never talk to him again after any of that — the imaginary disappointment in your face was like a punch in the gut. 

Was he being ridiculous? Obviously. Did that stop his pre-date panic? Obviously not. 

Still, with the might of a thousand warriors, Jungkook managed to drag himself to your date, his knees almost giving out beneath him when he saw you — he didn’t believe you would actually come, for some of him still thought it was all a sadistic heaven prank. Somehow, he blurted out a compliment about how good you looked while he was having a heart attack, and almost lost his consciousness when you smiled at him. 

Yep, it would be a difficult night. 

The movie marathon consisted of three 2000’s movies, and the two of you managed to arrive right before Mean Girls started, fumbling on your seats as the rest of the room grew quiet. The makeshift classroom didn’t look like a movie theater in the slightest, but it wasn’t as if you were expecting that in the first place — it was nothing more than an agglomeration of chairs and desks, combined with a few puff chairs and old couches scattered around. Much to your delight, you and Jungkook managed to grab one of those couches before another couple returned to their seats, and he could see that his ghost buddies had already found their own place on the empty chairs behind the two of you. 

Surprise! None of the catastrophic scenarios in his mind actually came true. In fact, he had a great time with you, laughing at your jokes and sometimes flat-out stealing Yoongi’s commentary just to make you chuckle, which granted him a few mumbled complaints coming from the back row. 

“Jungkook is so superior, don’t you think, Taehyung?” Yoongi mocked, and Jungkook was sure that he would be kicking his seat if he could. “So smart. So great. But can’t even figure out his own jokes. Has to steal them from a poor dead man. You’re a grave robber.” 

Taehyung chuckled. “Hey, you’re helping him, at least. That’s our whole point here.”

“Grave robber!” he repeated, more aggressively this time. “I can’t believe you’d ruin Mean Girls for me like this. Not even hell would be so cruel.” 

“How dare you say that about hell? If I get in trouble because you can’t keep your mouth shut, Yoongi, I swear to God—”

“Now you’re saying God’s name in vain, you heretic! That’s so much worse!” 

Jungkook had to bite back a laugh as the two continued bickering behind him, only half aware of the scene in which Regina George glued her own picture on the burn book. He didn’t know when exactly he had done it — he had been so on edge the entire night that it was almost as if his own brain was instantly deleting his memories, but he had managed to curl one arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. He was sure that you could hear the frantic heartbeat of his heart against his chest, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t think he could even get that far. 

But he did, and even reached beyond that. 

Once the screen faded to black and the credits started appearing, there was a resounding wave of claps in the room, cheering for the absolute cultural reset that was that movie. One of the students moved to the front of the room, explaining that they would take a ten minutes break, then would return with She’s All That. Apparently, 1999 was close enough to the 2000’s for it to be picked as well. 

“Do you wanna stay and watch it?” He asked, fighting every muscle in his body not to smell your hair. He knew that it would be super creepy, yeah, but your head was right there and it smelled so good. 

You removed your body from his chest, looking up at him. “I would love to, but I have to wake up early tomorrow to study,” you said. “Big test on Monday.” 

“Sure, yeah.” Jungkook nodded, slightly let down. To be honest, he had completely forgotten that information until that point. Seems like he would have a lot to catch up on during the next day. “I’ll walk you to your dorm.” 

You thanked him with a smile, and you two got moving. 

The walk back to your place wasn’t exactly awkward, but it could have also been a lot better. The two of you talked about the movie animatedly, the subject that you had to study — an awful amount of gastric pathology to memorize — and, eventually, landed on your weirdest experiences during hospital rounds. You were in the middle of telling him how two toddlers (twins) managed to puke on you at the same time, and how you thought that was a sign of a telepathic connection between the two, when he felt the back of his hand brush against yours, and everything around him turned into static. Suddenly, it was all that he could think about. 

Jungkook had already spent the entire date with questions flying around his head. When was the right time to pull you close? Could he hold your hand, or would that be too bold? Could you smell how sweaty he was? Or maybe his deodorant was too strong? If he ran away, trained to be an astronaut, and joined the Mars colonization mission, would he be able to avoid embarrassing himself again? 

And, more importantly: would it be weird to kiss you goodnight? 

Considering the fact that he had no clue how to read your body language, and that almost all of his romantic experience came from bad sitcoms and Twilight marathons with Yoongi, Jungkook didn’t judge himself suited to answer that last question. He didn’t know if he should hold your hand, he didn’t know if you were just being polite or if you actually had a good time. Again and again, his anxiety got the best of him. He should really get back to seeing his campus counselor. 

“So… we’re here,” you said, holding your hands in front of your body. You had stopped at the entrance of your block, and Jungkook took that as a sign that you didn’t want him to go all the way back to your apartment. Fair enough. “Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun. We should do this again sometimes.” 

“For sure, yeah.” Jungkook nodded, somewhat relieved that you asked for that. At least that was a clear sign that you didn’t completely hate him. “That would be great.” 

You agreed and looked down at your shoes. The darkness of the night enveloped the two of you, only half of your features illuminated by the dim yellow shine of the nearest light post. Jungkook almost fainted when you stared into his eyes, with a faint blush painting your cheeks, and questioned, “So, you’re not gonna kiss me?” 

Windows’ blue screen. Please, hold.

 “I… I, uh—” Jungkook’s mouth felt as if he had just swallowed an entire desert, his brain fighting to keep his voice steady. Your eyes, so focused and expectant, felt like daggers against his chest. “I didn’t know if you wanted to,” he finally admitted. 

Your shoulders fell as a tender smile curled up on your roseate lips. Jungkook thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. “I do,” you told him gently. His heart almost leaped out of his throat. “Do you want to?” 

And that was the easiest question that he would ever answer. “Yeah,” Jungkook said. 

You smiled. “Perfect.” 

The boy barely had time to react before your hand was curling around the fabric of his shirt, and you pulled him towards you in a playful tug. Jungkook’s eyes stayed comically widened for a second after your lips met, but, soon enough, he allowed himself to melt into your embrace, his nervous hands landing on your waist, and his mind instantly calming down. 

He kissed you slowly, carefully, almost afraid that, at the faintest of movements, reality would shatter and he would lose that moment forever. Of course, it didn’t, and he stayed on that instant a bit longer before, at last, he pulled away, slightly breathless. 

“I should’ve done that sooner,” he confessed. 

You tilted your head at him, fingers playing with his hair. “It happened at the right time,” you said. “Some things can’t be rushed. Especially the good ones.” 

Just like that, he understood what Taehyung and Yoongi had been saying all those years. No matter how cliche it was, there was some truth to the saying that ‘what is supposed to happen, will’. And, the better that something is, the more work it will require. 

But, as he kissed you again, Jungkook realized that it was all worth it in the end.

____________

The following months by your side were so amazing that Jungkook constantly brought back his theory that “maybe he was actually dead, and that was heaven.” And, if it was, he would make sure to shake God’s hand himself because, holy fuck, was he one lucky man. 

Okay, maybe the first few weeks together were a bit painfully cringe-worthy, but he was really trying to pretend as if they didn’t happen. Jungkook didn’t really get the memo, and he had to slowly figure out how to behave romantically with you. He got it wrong the first few times — kissing you at the worst possible moment, or sending you a huge bouquet of roses during your microbiology exam — but, eventually, you guided him towards more neutral grounds. Then everything went smoothly. 

Surprisingly, even the undead duo calmed down for a while. Yoongi and Taehyung were still around, since they had no other option, but were much quieter now, only making punctual remarks when Jungkook made a fool out of himself. Hell, they even left the room when things started getting more serious between the two of you, instead of giving Cosmopolitan-worthy advice, and that was a huge improvement. 

But, of course, it wouldn’t be Jungkook’s life if there wasn’t a huge joke waiting just around the corner. Soon enough, another issue would present itself. 

It came in the form of a warm mumble against his lips, and the vague — yet deliciously noticeable — rolling of your hips against his own. “Jungkook,” you called, breathless after a long make-out session. The two of you were on his couch, with you sitting on his lap, straddling him. “I want you.” 

He froze. What else would he do? Jungkook was a panicked virgin. He knew that your intimate times would happen eventually — and he really wanted them to — but he didn’t expect that his mind would completely malfunction once he got so close, with his erection growing inside his pants and the softness of your breasts pressing against his torso. It was just a lot, alright? 

And, lost amidst the tempestuous sea of his sudden despair, all that he could utter back was, “Are… Are you sure you want to do this right now?” 

“Yeah.” You placed a strand of hair behind your ear. Jungkook thought that he could faint on the spot. It was actually a pretty common sensation with him. “You don’t want it?”

“No — I mean yeah! Yeah, I want it.” He choked on his words, looking down in embarrassment, only to meet the contour of your thighs. His youth leader had been right all along: temptation was everywhere. “I’m just… I’ve never done anything before.” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” you tried to calm him down, placing your hands on his shoulders. The heat of your palms seemed to have some effect on the chaotic emotions that boiled inside him, for his muscles relaxed considerably under your touch. “I won’t pressure you, okay? If you want to take more time, it’s completely fine.” 

“No, it’s not like that. I don’t feel pressured.” He shook his head, then looked up at you. You could almost feel the conflict inside his gaze, the mixture of anticipation and fear that you knew all too well. “I want you, Y/N, I really do. I’m just nervous.”

“It’s fine,” you repeated. “We don’t have to do anything now, and we can start slo—”

But he couldn’t listen to the end of your phrase, because a familiar voice damn near hollered from the other side of the room. “Taehyung, come in here! Quick!” Yoongi yelled, signaling through the door like he was controlling the air traffic. “He’s getting some! Jungkook’s about to get his cherry popped the fuck off!” 

You tilted your head to the side, staring him down with preoccupation. “Jungkook? Are you okay?”

“The fuck! There is no fucking way!” Taehyung’s voice got louder as he yelled, signaling his growing proximity. “Call NASA right now!”

Jungkook sighed, throwing his head against the couch. Goodbye erection, and goodbye any chance of having sex that day. “Yoongi and Taehyung just showed up,” he mumbled bitterly. 

You lowered your gaze and took a deep breath, then removed yourself from his lap. Jungkook hated the lack of heat, and he swore he would have drop-kicked the two if they weren’t in a different dimension. The certainty of death was all that he needed to know that he would get his revenge some day. “Of course they did,” you complained, fixing your clothes. “I love being cockblocked by cockless ghosts. Again.”

“Hey!” Taehyung sounded actually offended. 

Jungkook turned around harshly, his voice bitter. “Can the two of you just fuck off? This is not the time.” 

“So you two can fuck?” Yoongi grinned, then looked at Taehyung. “We should, actually.”

“Jungkook… this is too weird now.” You raised your hands in a silent bargain for it all to stop. You could deal with a few psychic sessions every once in a while, but being a voyeurism victim for ghosts wouldn’t be the way you wanted to spend your afternoon. “Let’s do this another time, okay? I should get going anyways. Big day at the hospital tomorrow.” 

He took one of his hands to his face, massaging his temple. You got up from the couch, reaching for your backpack. “Yeah, okay.” The boy pouted, and you leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips. Disappointing end for a night, to say the least. “Good luck tomorrow. Text me if you get an interesting case!”  

“Thanks! I will.” You threw your backpack strap over your shoulder and started walking towards the exit. Jungkook couldn’t blame you for just wanting to leave that place as soon as possible, he was sure that the discomfort was much worse for you. “Bye, Jungkook! I’ll let you know when I get to my place.”

He opened his mouth to thank you, but you were already out the door. The lock clicked shut, and the silence became thick, mocking him. Even if he already had an actual girlfriend, Jungkook still found himself being left behind by someone that would never want to see him again — dick semi-hard and morale shattered on the ground. Seems like he always found himself back in that position. 

Taehyung materialized on the couch next to him, hugging his knees. He was staring at the closed door, somewhat expecting that you would come back, but knowing very well that you wouldn’t do so. “Okay, I accept that it was our fault,” he said, oscillating his gaze towards Jungkook. “Sorry, man. We are like, super invested in this. There’s almost nothing interesting going on in the afterlife and this is, like, better than any TV show airing right now.” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes, utterly exhausted at the mess that had become his life. He was done giving them sermons: it had basically turned into the world’s worst pastime and gave little to no results. “You know what? Just promise me you’re not going to show up next time.” He stared both of them down. “I don’t wanna be watched, that’s just weird. And I know that Y/N isn’t happy about that either.” 

Yoongi shrugged. “Some people like it.” 

“Yeah, I’m not one of those people,” he told him. “Guys, please. I know you two are as excited as I am about this, and I appreciate your... support, but I think this is something I need to do alone. In peace. Not being watched by spirits. That’s isn’t too much to ask.”  

“He’s right, you know?” Taehyung said, looking back at Yoongi. “We should stay in our lane for now.” 

The other ghost looked down at his feet, which basically morphed into the carpet beneath them. For the first time in two long years, he actually seemed like he was rethinking his actions. “Yeah, sorry,” Yoongi responded. “We got carried away. We’ll leave next time. Maybe try something when your neighbors are having a movie night.” 

Jungkook’s shoulders fell in alleviation.  Maybe not everything was doomed. “Thank you,” he spoke, then nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll probably do that. When is the next one?” 

Taehyung looked at Yoongi, then back at him. “What are the chances that you’re gonna get your virgin shit together by tomorrow night?”  

___________

Slim to none, actually, but he had managed to (kind of) do it. Focus on the “kind of.”

Jungkook had spent the previous night doing in-depth research about sexual intercourse,  and basing his actions in real-life situations. That meant that he stayed up until four in the morning watching porn. Not masturbating. Just watching it very closely and trying to learn what to do — like an actual serial killer. 

“Do you think that this is… a good idea?” Taehyung spoke from the other side of his room, preoccupation plastered all over his face. The whole porn-science was funny for the first twenty minutes, and then it just ended up being terrifying. “You know that people don’t actually have sex like that, right? It’s all exaggerated.” 

“Quiet!” Jungkook raised his finger after a particularly loud moan echoed, his eyes red and glued to the computer screen. The white light from his device was awfully sharp, bathing his figure and making his image border on demonic. It really wasn’t a good look. “I’m researching. I need to know what to do.” 

“You look and sound like a maniac.” Taehyung walked closer to the bed, measuring his movements. After he died, he thought that he would never be afraid of any other living thing — but Jungkook had just proved him wrong. Against his best judgement, he took a peek at the screen. “No! Oh my— That’s not natural. That’s so wrong. You should know, you studied anatomy.” 

“I’m not gonna do this tomorrow,” Jungkook mumbled, closing the video. Taehyung recoiled back to the darkness of the room like a vampire that had just been touched by the sun. “The plot was interesting.” 

“You’re not even hard, man,” he said, pointing at Jungkook’s trousers. “This is like, really weird. You should stop before you have some problem getting it up tomorrow.” 

“What are you trying to say?” He narrowed his eyes, paranoid. “That wouldn’t happen. I know what I can do.”  

“You’re the medical student, take a look,” Taehyung insisted. “There’s research about that, pornography affects young men and women a lot and— Actually, what the fuck am I talking about? This is crazy. I should’ve left with Yoongi.” 

“Wait, I just—” Jungkook closed his computer with a sigh. His hair was disheveled and his gaze was unfocused. It really was the oddest night in Taehyung’s life/death. “I just don’t know what to do tomorrow. I’m about to have an anxiety attack. It’s like the third one tonight.” 

Taehyung pressed his lips together, the discomfort inside him being replaced by a warm sense of understanding. “Man, she knows you don’t have experience. She isn’t expecting a porn star performance, or whatever the fuck you were just watching.” He pointed to the computer, which was now neglected amongst the sea of blankets. “By the way, I’m a changed spirit. I hate you for making me see that.” 

Jungkook would have laughed at his distress if he wasn’t too tired to do that. “Technically, you decided to look at it yourself,” he corrected. “But, yeah, I know she’s not expecting anything great. But I don’t wanna make a fool out of myself, you know? Not like it’s a rare occasion or anything.” 

Taehyung shrugged. Being alive made everything seem so much more important than it actually was, he thought. “Lay back and let her take the lead, then.” 

Jungkook furrowed his brow, his eyes widening at the idea. Of course! That was the big  galaxy brain moment he needed all along. “Are you serious? It’s that simple?” He asked, hopeful. 

Taehyung chuckled. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” 

Yeah. It was that simple. Who would’ve thought that those see-through idiots actually would have something intelligent to say? 

Really, it was a time of miracles in Jungkook’s life. The following day, the planets aligned and, for the first time ever since puberty, everything went right for him: the class ended a bit early, his neighbors decided to watch two movies instead of one, and his place was perfectly devoid of any paranormal activity by the time you wandered into it. 

He didn’t tell you that he had planned that entire thing before it happened — he thought it would be super strange to schedule his virginity loss out loud — and he was glad to see that everything evolved naturally. One hour and forty minutes after you arrived, you two were already at the same point that you had left the day before — only, this time, you two actually managed to get to his bed.

“They’re not here, are they? You’re sure?” You asked in between kisses for what should’ve been the fifth time. 

“No, I asked them to leave earlier.” Jungkook’s hands pressed down on your hips, the sensation of your center rolling against his erection eliciting a sigh from him. Ha! Fuck Taehyung and his soft dick curse. “I actually… Before we do anything, I actually wanted to know if you could, you know, help me a little.” 

You hummed, taking your face away from his. Jungkook watched as you licked your lips, your eyes dazed, and leaned in to place another kiss against his mouth. “In what way?” You asked. 

“Just... show me what to do,” he said. “What you like, if I’m doing something wrong… everything.” 

With a soft smile, you agreed, arms curling around his shoulders. “Of course,” you told him. “It’ll be my pleasure.” 

That being said, you dove back to his lips, feeling as he both simultaneously relaxed and tensed up under your touches. Jungkook had evolved a lot in those past few months, you realized, since the early-dating version of him wouldn’t find himself in that position without turning into a stuttering, blushing mess beneath you. It was kind of cute, but you’d never say that out loud. 

You felt his hands trailing up your back, underneath your clothes, his palms dwelling in the softness of your skin for a moment before, in a courageous movement, he decided to pull your shirt up. There was a short separation of your mouths as the piece of clothing slid up your arms, and collapsed against the floor in a puddle of cotton. 

Jungkook sighed once he felt the lace of your bra against his hands; the softness of your breasts was something that he continuously daydreamed about. Now, without the barrier of your clothes, all that he needed was to remove that last constriction and he would be— 

“Oh well…” He chuckled nervously, fumbling with your bra. “Sorry, I don’t know how to open this.”

You smiled at the embarrassment that danced around his features. “Relax, okay?” You said, moving your hands to your back and taking care of that problem yourself. You’d teach him about the magic of unclasping bras another time. “It’s fine.”

But Jungkook didn’t have time to think about an answer, for soon your bra was meeting your shirt on the floor. His reaction would’ve been the same if you just moved over and came back with a baby dinosaur in your hands — his eyes widening in amazement as he took in the image of your nude breasts, a small whimper perishing in his throat as he slithered his hands upward, cupping them. 

Your breath stopped for a moment when he leaned in, reluctant, and enveloped one of your nipples with his warm mouth, his tongue delicately coming out to trace circles on your sensitive flesh. Jungkook groaned at the sensation, his cock becoming unbearably hard against his pants, and tilted your body over so he could be on top of you. 

You curled up against the sheets, sighing in delight as the boy continued to work on your breasts, kissing and sucking lightly, taking his time. Every time you looked down, you could see that Jungkook was having almost as much fun as you, the small moans that dripped from his tongue vibrating inside your chest. 

“Does it feel good?” He raised his gaze towards you, expectant. “Am I doing a good job?” 

“Yes, very good.” Your hands curled around the roots of his hair. The action was gentle, but Jungkook shuddered under the sensation — every small movement proved itself to be a lot for him to handle. “You’re doing amazing. Is there something that you want to do, Kookie?” 

The boy licked his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. Part of him (probably the sleep deprived one) still didn’t believe that you two were actually doing that — that it wasn’t just a figment of his horny imagination. No, it was real. You were right there in front of him, beautiful and devastating, caressing his hair as you waited for an answer. 

“I… I want to make you feel good,” he said, wide-eyed and hesitant. His dick felt painfully hard being so constructed by his pants and, suddenly, he became aware of how clothed he still was. No wonder it was so hot. “Just tell me what you want me to do.” 

Your lips curled up at his adorableness, one of your hands meeting his wrist. Patiently, you guided it down, and placed it on the hem of your pants. “Can you touch me?” You questioned. “I can tell you what I like.” 

“Oh, please,” he almost pleaded, his hand already fumbling to open your pants. Much to his delight, those were a lot easier than your bra, and they were soon sliding down your legs with ease. 

He took a moment to take in your form, eyes traveling up from your legs, to your hips, then all the way back to your breasts. As Jungkook met your gaze, he allowed for a suspire of relief to depart from his mouth, shoulders relaxing. “I’m so lucky,” he spoke, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

The smile that you presented him looked brighter than all of the stars above. “Come here,” you called, leaning against your elbows. “Give me a kiss.” 

Obedient, Jungkook did as you requested, a grunt escaping his chest once you pulled him into a sloppy kiss, nails brushing lightly against the skin of his neck. He had goosebumps at the sensation, his hand moving by its own will, navigating down your stomach and towards your heat. 

His fingers hovered, insecure, over the hem of your panties for a moment. Still, at the sound of his name being spoken against the kiss, he was overtaken by an ephemeral spark of courage. Soon, your panties were on the floor too. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Jungkook whined at the contact, his fingers dwelling just above your entrance. Inside his pants, his cock twitched at the sensation, his lower body already tingling with excitement. He didn’t know how he would manage not to cum in his pants, but he would have to find a way. “What do I do now?” 

“Now...” you said, leaning your head against the pillow. “Move up and find my clit. Make all those hours of anatomy worth it,” you joked. 

Jungkook nodded, but anatomy was much more difficult when he wasn’t actually looking at a certain part of the body — he was much more interested in watching your expression. Embarrassed, he did as you requested, trailing his wet fingers up until you told him to stop. “Right there,” you said, sighing once you felt his hand pressing down on it, starting to trace small circular patterns. “That’s it, baby, great job.” 

His heart leaped at the compliment, and his actions became firmer. Jungkook thought he would go insane when he heard you whimper and cry out at the sensation, your hips bucking up against his hand ever so slightly. “You’re so hot,” he breathlessly confessed, his words coming in a hot puff of air against your neck. His digits slowly trailed down, towards your entrance, and he paused. “Can I?” 

“Yeah,” you agreed. 

Jungkook swallowed hard, adventuring one finger inside you. At the sensation of your walls clenching around him, he moaned, biting his lip. “God, you’re so tight,” he told you, adding a second finger. You raised your hips at the contact, hands curling on his hair. “I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” 

His mouth came back to your breasts, sucking and licking your flesh. Jungkook was a mess, you realized — pressing down his hard member against your thigh, whining against your skin as his fingers curled inside you, sinking into your wetness. God, you weren’t made of steel. “I want it,” you told him, and he didn’t understand your words for a moment. “I want to feel you, Jungkook.” 

And he didn’t need anything else. The boy moved away from your body and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor alongside the rest of your clothes. It was no time for hesitation— he didn’t know how much of his precious alone time he had left. “Condoms.” He pointed at his nightstand. “Top drawer.” 

You turned around on the bed, reaching for the furniture as the boy unbuckled his belt and clumsily removed his pants. The mattress bounced beneath you as Jungkook tossed himself around, finding a way to lose his balance as he threw his pants on the ground. Much to his relief, you weren’t paying much attention to it. 

He was already panting — in a mixture of excitement and his pathetic effort to remove his pants — by the time that you gave him the condom. “Do you put it on, or do you want me to?” You asked. 

Jungkook had trained on enough bananas to know that he could do it, but he wasn’t gonna let the chance to have you touching him down there pass. “You do it, please.” 

You nodded, sitting next to his expectant figure. Jungkook’s chest rose and fell in anticipation, his muscles glistening with the small droplets of sweat that decorated his caramel skin.  His cock was hard and heavy against the fabric of his grey underwear, practically calling for your care. 

Attentively, you watched as his abdomen tensed up at the feeling of one of your hands pressing down against his clothed erection, delicately moving towards his crown. A gasp tumbled from his lips as you rolled your thumb against it, noticing the wetness that had already accumulated beneath your hand, and he rolled his hips against the pressure. Really, Jungkook was too precious. 

“Please, don’t tease,” he begged, eyes following your every move. His cock throbbed in your hands, needy. “I don’t think I can hold it much longer.” 

With a hum of agreement, you moved your hand away from his erection, and pulled his underwear down gently. Jungkook whimpered at the fiction, and the way his cock was freed from its constraints, bouncing back against his abdomen. The smallest of touches was more than enough for him to lose himself. 

“Shhh, it’s fine,” you calmed him down, slowly (too slowly) rolling the condom on him. His hands clenched into fists next to him, grabbing handfuls of the white sheets. Okay, maybe you were being a bit mean. “Just tell me what you want.” 

Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment, holding back a cry of frustration. “Ride me, please,” his words came out in a plea, his expression so permeated by need that you thought that he could cry if you teased him any further. God, everything was so perfect about him — the glistening in his onyx irises, the reddening of his lips as he bit down on them, trying to fight back a whimper as you placed yourself over him. “I— I need to feel you. I’m going crazy.” 

There was no need for more convincing — again, you weren’t made of steel. 

You sighed as you sank down on his member, one of your hands finding support against his pecs, as the other curled around his cock, guiding him inside you. Jungkook closed his eyes and threw his head against the alabaster pillow, his flower-like lips opening to cry out at the sensation. “Oh fuck,” he cursed. “Oh, baby, that’s so good.” 

Seeing him like that, so submissive, so deliciously responsive to your faintest of touches, was, at the very least, extremely erotic. You loved to see the way he flinched and whined at the sensation of your walls clenching around him, his hands unsure of where they should be on your body. Awfully slow, you rose your hips from him, almost letting him slip out, before you shifted your weight back down, watching as Jungkook moaned out your name. 

God, he was really about to fall apart. 

Slowly, you began setting a pace, moving up and down on his cock. It was a lot slower than Jungkook expected, but it was just the right speed to make him appreciate every sensation of your body wrapping his own. 

“Feels good?” you asked, a bit breathless. The sensation of him filling you up was even better than you had anticipated, and, combined with his shameless exclamations of pleasure, you didn’t think that you’d last much longer either. 

Before he could answer, a tremulous sigh ruptured upon his mouth, reverberating just behind his teeth. Jungkook took another second to find his words, inhaling sharply. “So good,” he spoke, and you almost whined out at the lust that ornamented his voice. “Can you move faster? Please?” 

Maybe in different times, you’d take your time to provoke him a bit more. At that point, though, you’d do anything he wanted you to. “Yeah,” you agreed, doing as requested. The sound of your wetness and the slapping of skin against skin was lewd, filling the room alongside Jungkook’s voice. “Like this?”  

“Fuck, yeah, like this,” he cried out, closing his eyes in absolute euphoria. He could feel the movement of your asscheeks against his palms, the sensation enough to drive him insane. Jungkook was already amazed at the fact that he didn’t embarrass himself with premature ejaculation the second that you removed his underwear — but it didn’t mean that he didn’t get close to it. The second his hands squeezed your ass, he was positive he would end the game a bit earlier than the two of you would like. “It— it feels so good. Please, don’t stop.” 

With a moan, you threw your body forward, placing kisses on the curvature of his neck, a sensation that quickly sent shivers down his skin. The new angle made his cock hit even deeper inside you, causing for you both to melt in pleasure. “You feel so good,” you told him, nails digging against his flesh. The knot in your stomach was all too familiar, and you knew that you wouldn’t take much longer. “I love having you inside me.” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s good.” He mumbled, only half aware of the words leaving his lips. Jungkook’s eyes were dazed and unfocused, looking at nowhere in particular, his fingertips digging in your flesh. “You’re… you’re getting tighter.” 

“Y-Yeah,” you agreed, voice coming out in a moan. “I’m close.” 

He swallowed hard. “I can help,” he said. 

Before you could ask what he was trying to do, Jungkook moved his hand back to your center, two of his fingers playing with your clit. You gasped at the sensation, eyes closing as you kept riding him, rolling your hips, feeling as he reached for every part of you. It was all becoming too much, the pleasure that decorated his features, the  delicious friction of his body against yours, the frail moans that dropped from his tongue like honey. He was just too much. 

With a faint call of his name — a melody that would be stuck in his head forever —, you finally crossed the threshold of your orgasm, and came around him; morphing into a trembling and moaning mess. Jungkook watched, in absolute awe, as your face was monopolized by bliss, your teeth sinking down on your bottom lip and your eyes rolling back. 

He removed his hand from your heat, placing it on your waist. Using every final ounce of energy in your body, you continued riding him. Through parted lids, you noticed that his thighs were starting to shake, signaling that he, too, was close. “Baby,” the boy called out, his fingers digging to the sides of your hips. Jungkook was both trying to guide your movements, and hold himself back to reality. It was a beautiful view — the way his expression lingered somewhere between delight and distress; his hips mindlessly trusting up against yours. “I think I’m gonna cum.” 

You breathed out through your nose, trying to ignore the pleasure that, now, was turning into sensitivity. It felt good, in a way, but you were more focused on his relief at that point. “It’s okay, Kookie,” you told him, “you can let go.”

He had been so polite the entire time, with his “please” and “thank you’s. So, of course, when you told him that it was okay for him to cum, he did just as you requested. 

Jungkook came with gasping breaths and a trembling, high-pitched moan, holding on to you as he thrusted his last sloppy advances towards your core. His hands, weak, fell on the bed besides him, clenching the sheets; eyelashes fluttering down as he dwelled on the afterglow of his pleasure. You could stay there forever, looking at the pink shade that colored his cheeks; the beautiful mess that his black hair had turned into; or the tears of relief that accumulated at the corner of his eyes. 

But everything has to end, even the most beautiful ones. 

His tongue came out to wet his lips, and his eyes, still hooded, met yours. Not even the biggest minds in the renaissance could’ve thought of an image so perfect, so ethereal. “You’re so amazing,” he praised. “That was… amazing.” 

You smiled and leaned in to place a soft kiss against his lips. His member slipped out of you at the action, and his arms curled around your waist, keeping you in place. “You did pretty well,” you mumbled as you lazily curled up against his chest. Jungkook’s body was a delicious source of heat, and you could really get used to that. “I see a bright future ahead of you.”

He hummed, caressing your hair. Jungkook could finally smell it without being creepy, so that was a big victory for him. “You did most of the work,” he said. 

“That’s not an issue.” You nuzzled his neck, pleasantly feeling as goosebumps spread throughout his body. Always so responsive. “I’ll let you take the lead next time, if that sounds good to you.”

Jungkook chuckled. “That’d be great, yeah,” he agreed. Part of him thought about using a few tricks he learned during his late-night research, but he wasn’t super sure that it would be a good idea. Maybe he should keep that card up his sleeve for a bit longer in case he needed to surprise you later. “Do you want to spend the night? It’s kind of late to go back to your place now.”

The words fell from his tongue with ease, surprising the boy for an instant. He noticed that he was much more comfortable in your presence, like the pieces of the puzzle had finally fallen into place. Not because of the sex itself, he realized, but because of the vulnerability and intimacy that came with it. It happened just as it was supposed to. 

 “I’d love to.” You smiled, and placed a kiss against his neck. “But I’m going to kick you out if you start snoring.” 

“Out of my own place?” He asked. 

You sighed, voice filled by traces of your upcoming slumber. “Don’t you test me,” you spoke, wrapping your arms around him. “Medical school is killing me, I need some sleep. And I will get it no matter the price.” 

Jungkook laughed at your tired words, one of his hands caressing your head in infinite delicacy. As he held to your body, curling so perfectly against his own, he knew that everything would be okay. And maybe he needed a good night of sleep too. 

A few minutes later, as he started to feel the sensation of his consciousness slowly drifting away to the land of dreams, a bittersweet sentiment overtook his chest. There was an instant, even if ephemeral, in which Jungkook believed he would never see Yoongi and Taehyung again — after all, the two had already concluded their mission: Jungkook got the girl and there was nothing else left for them to do. In between two consecutive breaths, he felt both relief and solitude. Silence wasn’t as welcoming once he realized no voice could break it. 

Though, his melodramatic moment was short-lived. Behind him, a known timbre cheered for him:

“I’m so proud, I feel like a soccer mom.”

[darkacademicfrom2021]

The Dark Team (part 13)

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(Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman, @idontknow296, @beksib, @spythoschei, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 @toe-vind-ek-jou @joscelyn02, @t00-pi, @irwxnhugsx )

Warnings: creepy man, hungover (alcohol mentions), abduction mentions.

Chirping birds woke you up as the light hit your face. It was a slightly sunny morning, you could see. A cold one, too. Your head ached; yesterday’s wine was stronger than you’d think. You remembered very little, and the hangover weighed on your feet as you tried to stand up. Soon, that weight redistributed up to your head, dizziness almost throwing you back in bed.

With much more effort than before, you got up and walked slowly to the kitchen, glancing around. Last night, a sticky kid fell asleep on the doorframe. You chuckled and decided to not wake him up. Loki was nowhere to be found; must be sleeping in his own room, if he had one by then.

An ibuprofen and some cold water later, you checked the time. It was so early; six in the morning. You decided to get working already; maybe someone on the team was awake. If not, you could at least take things off your to-do list for the day and get time free at noon to play videogames with Peter, or help him with that Lego Stark Tower he has been trying to build for almost two weeks now. A nice walk in the park to get some fresh air until some coffee shop opened; that’s what you needed.

The streets were emptier than you’d imagine, and then you realized it was saturday. Peeping in, a coffee shop next block was already opening, and people were lining up to get in. You made sure to have brought money and a laptop with you, and as you reached your pockets you realized you had your suit on, under normal clothes. Well, at least I’m prepared for anything now. Even a sunday morning in a lovely coffee shop, you thought, laughing to yourself. If Tony saw you like this, he’d recall that word he says you inherited from him. Paranoid. But no, Stark, I’m just hungover. Good to know your first instinct once you get up off bed is to suit up. Tony'd be proud. And a little disappointed, too.

You got a table far from the window, wall behind your back making sure nobody could eye your laptop. Once you were settled in and your coffee was getting cold, you started working. You were so glad you were out of the public eye, so you could afford yourself all of these outside activities. Sounded stupid, but if you were to have dinner with Sam, or Steve, or Thor, you’d have to also deal with paparazzis all night long. Actually, in dining out with Thor, paparazzis would be the least of your problems.

“Hey”, greeted Bucky from the other line. “It’s so early, what are you doing up?”.

“Buck, it’s already ten”.

“Oh”, he said, and you heard a sliding curtain by his side. “Oh, there it is. Sunlight”.

“Why are your times all twisted?”.

“We stayed up until five”.

“Doing what?”.

“Let’s say the mini bar was not so mini”.

“Oh my God”, you laughed, and checked for your work on the laptop. “At this point, I think the only one who didn’t get drunk last night is Spidey. Ah. Listen, I’ve arranged today’s plan, and it has to go right or else you can get abducted again. And we don’t want that, okay?”.

“I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do now. Didn’t we already get the stick?”.

“That’s the point, there’s more… you know, bottles hanging around” you lowered your voice. The coffee shop was almost empty, but just in case, you kept it under your breath. “That’s why you gotta get into Hydra’s last base again. Do not go alone”.

You instructed Bucky and then he tried his best to put you on speaker to the rest of the team, but failed. None of them could actually figure out how to do it; Steve was even less familiar with cell phones, and Thor… well, not even elaborating on him. The only Asgardian who seemed familiar enough with Midgard’s technologies was sleeping soundly on the compound. You had to explain the plan thoroughly another two times individually, and then finally hung up and got to work, sending them coordinates and turning off Hydra’s hacked security cameras.

Once they were already in, you had not much more to do. At least for a few hours, they’d be completely submerged in there, and your help wasn’t needed anymore. You still planned for some outcomes and didn’t even notice the man standing in front of you.

“Excus…”.

“OH... my God”, you gasped, taking yourself off your hyper focused state. The man chuckled. His teeth, yellow, seemed like he didn’t know anything about dental hygiene. His clothes were perfectly cleaned, though, in a tidy office-type suit; but his hair was hidden by a peaked cap that barely let you see his eye expressions. Very weird looking. Hard to read. Just now unemployed? Dressed like that to get attention? You frowned and closed all tabs, opening a fake account of email and some cheap online magazine. “What do you need?”.

“Can I sit here?”.

“No”.

He smiled weirdly and manspreaded in the chair you told him not to sit in. You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“What are you doing?”, he asked.

You ignore him and keep pretending to read your mails, eyeing how many people were in there too. It was getting fuller than before. If he wanted to steal your laptop he’d have to do it in front of all of these people, and cross the whole coffee shop. He wasn’t planning on stealing. You made a security copy of all the files anyways.

“You have pretty eyes”.

You ignored him again, but now understood his intentions. God, people could be so shameless sometimes. You literally told him to go away. You’ll repeat it, just in case he would actually listen this time.

“Go away”.

He chuckled and stayed in place.

“I just want to talk, sweetie”.

“Sure. I’m not interested”.

“You have a boyfriend?”.

“I have a very strong fist”.

He got closer, leaning on the table, and lowering his voice said “You’re working on the supersoldiers mission, yes?”.

You froze. Suddenly, the creepy man was a bigger threat than you’d anticipated. Your hand hovered over the gun in your pocket, holding strong eye contact with him.

“Who are you?”.

“What do you have in your pocket?”, he teased.

“Wanna find out?”, you threatened.

Looking over his shoulder, an all-too-familiar fifteen year old hid behind a pile of coffee cups from the bar counter, holding his breath to not laugh. You sighed and broke the tension.

“Funny. Very funny. I almost shoot you, you know”.

“That’s not a very good instinct”.

“Not an instinct, I truly wanted to shoot you”.

“You sure were, pancake”, he said as he transformed back into himself, still in those ugly clothes covering half his face. As he looked down to himself, he frowned and changed his clothes to an Asgardian armor. “But your mortal bullets would be no more than a caress to my skin”.

“Let’s give it a try, shall we?”, you cocked your gun, joking. He laughed, and Peter got increasingly nervous as you played with your toys in a public and safe place, surrounded by civilians. “Don’t worry, Pete, it’s fake”.

Peter sighed in relief as you clarified and put it back in your pocket, and Loki smirked, knowing perfectly well you just lied.

“Why don’t we get something to drink, too, mr. Loki?”.

“Yeah, whatever you want, kid”.

“Not a kid”.

“Apologies. Actually, can you order it? I’m afraid Midgardians don’t usually take kindly to my presence”, he asked. Peter nodded.

“I do, mr. Loki”.

"What?".

"Take it kindky".

Loki smiled and raised his eyebrows, a bit confused. Muttered an “I’m glad” and instructed him to get an americano, while you packed your laptop in the backpack.

"How's the incognito working out for you in your shiny armor?"

"Better than before. At least now I'm comfortable while getting the same bad looks I always get anyways".

"Shapeshifter can't manage to hide, how ironic", you said, giving him one of the new earbuds, with an attachable mic. "Since you have good strategy plans and you sort of know what you're doing, work with me".

"I thought we were already working together. You know, in this stupid thing called The Dark...".

"Yeah", you interrupted him, rolling your eyes once again. "From behind the scenes, I mean. This is so you can listen to whatever my earbud hears. Don't bite your tongue if you have any inputs, I'm running out of solutions".

Your phone rang again as you were getting up.

“Yes?”.

“It’s all gone to trash, y/n. We need a new plan, I can’t find Buck anywhere. What’s your backup?”, rushed Steve’s voice. It sounded like it was from a public service phone, and the static didn’t let you hear Steve’s surroundings. Loki looked at the floor, concentrating. He didn't find anything either, and was too far away to read his mind.

“Wait. What do you mean you can’t find him? You were supposed to keep an eye on him so he doesn’t get kidnapped again”, you said, opening your laptop again and looking for Bucky’s location. He didn’t have it on him.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant with ‘it’s all gone to trash’”.

“Okay, don’t freak out. Where are you?”.

“Hydra’s last base, top of the buil…”.

“Hold up, I have another incoming call”. You put him on hold and see who’s calling. It was Bucky, this time. You sigh out of relief. Peter watched you two concerned while approaching you with two coffee cups. You gestured to him to not talk, and Loki had started to type things in your computer. “Buck, where are you? What happened?”.

On the other side of the line, you didn’t get a specific answer. You heard muffled noises that you still couldn’t quite figure out what they meant, and more than one person behind the phone.

“Buck, you there?”, you asked once again. Bucky’s voice filled the silence with a heartrending scream of agony. You almost dropped your phone, and your heart beated to the speed of light. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. They have him. “Buck!”.

“Three hours”, called someone, probably one of the Hydra butchers. “You have three hours”.

“Three hours for what?!”, you tried to hold them on the line while tracing the call. It was from a specific coordinate, nobody could get there unless they teleported. Luckily, you had the perfect person for the job. Loki looked at you quizzically.

"Do we not have better people on it? Can't Stark go?".

You returned to Steve’s call, while thinking about some other alternative than taking you three there (including Peter). “They have Bucky. Location’s very far away from where we all are, so you try to get out of there and go to Asgard with Thor; they’ll try to kidnap you too, and Hydra’s resources are global. No, don’t argue, you screw up, now you do exactly as I say”.

“Do you think they’re the same that hijacked the ship on the first part of the mission?”, asked Loki once you cut the call.

“They might. We have to go get him, there's no other way. The rest of the team comes back tomorrow and they can't leave”.

“No, I have to go”, said Loki. “But I’m supposed to stay with you two and make sure you’re not endangered, and I’m sure if I leave you here all alone, you’ll try to come by your own means”.

“Which means”, you added, “if you take us with you, you can make sure we don’t endanger ourselves”.

“This is a terrible idea”.

“But the only one so far”, you convinced him. “Pete, feeling like going on a dangerous mission?”.

“Hell yeah!”, he said eagerly. Loki was not very fond of his enthusiasm.

“I can do this”, you assured him. “Do you trust me?”.

“Yes”. He didn’t hesitate. “But I don’t trust them. You two will stay behind me facing the danger, alright? Nothing of wanting to play heroes”.

“Got it. Let’s suit up, fellas. Bucky’s waiting”.

[sasuhinasno1fan]

To play again - Luka Appreciation Week Day 1

So I’ve kinda given up on ML, just in terms in how they treat their charaecters and such, but I still love Luka and I thought I should at least write something for him for @lukacouffaineappreciation event. I was trying to think of an idea and I’m not fully familar with the story for the Ballet AU where Luka plays violin, so I went a different direction, Shugo Chara and Ikuto. Black Diamond is one of my fav songs from the show and I thought it fit with Kitty Section, if it being a softer version compared to their hardcore stuff. I’ll admit, halfway through I remembered the song Inviciable by Escape the Fate with Lindsey Stirling which fit them better but I still wanted to do this one, even though we don’t actually see them sing it in this fic. Anyway, I did find a French version of Black Diamon, though it’s more rock and doesn’t have the violin. Someone had taken the cover and dropped it on top of the actual song and it didn’t sound right, but just so you can get an idea of it. This is the French cover and just so you know what the actual song sounds like, check this out. Violin

Luka didn’t know how the knowledge about him playing violin suddenly making him an ok person for Adrien to associate with, at least according to the model’s father. But here he was, instead of having to wait until Adrien was essentially alone or sneak out of his lessons to come hang out with his friends, he was currently being led to Adrien’s room by his father’s assistant.

Nathalie knocked on the door, “Adrien?”

“Come in!”

She opened the door and Luka followed. He spotted Adrien sitting at his computer watching something.

“I thought you were supposed to be practising?” she asked.

“Luka?” Adrien answered instead, noticing the rocker in his room.

“Yes, M. Couffaine was asked by your father to practise your latest song with you. he said it sounded better with a violin and M. Couffaine attends an illustrious music school so he was perfect. You two will start immediately.”

“Does this mean, he can come to my place to practise? My mom knows Jagged Stone if getting a classical piano is an issue.” Luka asked.

“We shall see. If you’ll excuse me.”

When the door closed behind Nathalie, Adrien got up from his desk.

“Happy to see me?” Luka asked.

“Always. But what are you doing here? What was she talking about, illustrious music school? Aren’t you home schooled?”

Luka shrugged. “I am, but it’s through the same school. They’re the ones who grade my exams and such. I did attend it but during one of my exams, I happened to start playing one of the proctor’s heart song and then turned it into jam session when it occurred to me at that moment how much happier I felt playing that one heart song compared to the massively long piece I’d practised and slaved over for weeks. Mom decided it’d be better for everyone if I was home schooled. Thankfully the school offered to still treat me like a student, since I worked so hard to get in and was one of the best students.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow, taking Luka in. it was hard to imagine the guy with dyed hair, piercings and a pretty literal pirate for a mom attending a ridged music school. But if being away from it made him happier, and also allowed the two to meet, he couldn’t complain.

“Well here’s hoping my dad doesn’t find out. This is gonna make piano lessons so much more fun.”

“Well, it’s more like, have time to practise with you for Kitty Section. Even though you are a part time member, you’re still a member. We’re doing a mini concert for your class and anyone else who’s interested. Would you like to join us?”

Adrien brightened at the thought of playing with his friends. “Absolutely! What are we gonna play?”

“Can I borrow your computer? I sent the piano music sheets to myself and we have a small playlist on Spotify since Rose has been having a bit of trouble writing songs, we’re doing a lot of covers.”

“Sure.” Adrien let Luka sit in his computer chair and watched as he opened an incognito tab, not commenting on the anime he’d been watching when Nathalie came in. his eyes drifted to the violin case, sitting on the desk. Like his guitar, Luka’s case was covered in stickers.

Adrien loved all musical instruments, though the piano held a special place in his heart. The violin though, seemed so cool. Granted he still had trouble figuring out what was the difference between a violin and a viola, other than don’t ask if you don’t know cause the owners get annoyed about it. He watched Lindsey Stirling jump around her stage playing it, violin covers always sounded cool, especially on electric violins. Then there was the guy he’d admit he tried to emulate as Chat. Ikuto Tsukiyomi from Shugo Chara.

“Here we go.” Luka said, bring Adrien back, “Here’s the playlist. It’s a bit all over the place at the moment, we can’t decide what we want to go for since Rose really wants to have at least one of our songs on it. If you have any suggestions, by all means.”

“Do you play your violin often?” Adrien asked.

“Um, not totally. I mean, I do to still keep in practise, but not like in an orchestra or anything. Very rarely do I play it when the family is jamming.”

“Would you be opposed to playing it in Kitty Section?”

Luka was curious were this was going. “Why?”

Adrien leaned over, taking the mouse from the older boy. “Well, you don’t have to say yes and it would be work to switch the language over, which I can do by myself if need be, but I thought this song would be kinda cool to try this.”

He pulled up Black Diamond from the Shugo Chara anime. He could have also tried Tsukiyo no Marionette, but he felt like this one fit better with the band. He watched Luka listen, no doubt not fully understanding since it was in Japanese but he was tapping his finger on the table so Adrien had hope.

“This actually sounds good. It’s from one of your animes isn’t it?” the rocker slightly teased.

“Yeah, Shugo Chara. You should ask Rose about it. I introduced it to her and she loved it. Do you think the others would go for it? Would you even want to play it?”

Luka listened more, listening how the violin blended with guitars and drums, not out of place. It reminded him of how he wanted his music to feel back when he attended school. Maybe it was because of life with his mom, but when he got into that school, he thought he’d be able to play the way he wanted. Instead, they were trying to shot out numerous copies of this type A, perfect musician who only played classical. As much as he loved his guitar, and the chances to try out his harp skill on his lyre as Viperion, he really missed playing his violin.

“There’s also Invincible by Escape the Fate, Lindsey Stirling is featured on there. It’s more Kitty Sections style.” Adrien said, when Luka hadn’t said anything.

“I know of the song. It’s not in Rose’s key and it doesn’t feature keys and we want you there. But we’ll definitely add it to the list in case we decide to do it. I’ll run this song by the others and see what they think. How quick do you think you could transpose this?”

“Anything to get me away from playing classics for the next 2 hours.”

                                              ____________________

Juleka listened to the music that sounded vaguely familiar from when she’d watched the show with her girlfriend, but she was paying more attention to Luka. because their mom thrived on music and noise, from a very young age, both she and her older brother were taught many instruments. Luka took to them way more, a near prodigy at stringed instruments but she remembered guitar and violin battling for his favourite. After he left that school, he’d put his violin back in its box and shoved it away, only ever checking it to make sure it was still in tune and the bow didn’t need to be replaced. So watching him change the strings like he did after days of practise.

“You know, not that I’m mad about it, but I’m surprised you agreed to this. Playing your violin in the band.” Juleka said, as Luka plucked at each string to see if it was finally in tune. He’d forgotten how much he hated restringing his violin.

“I know. I’m a bit surprised to, but.” Luka shrugged, pulling out the shoulder rest. “The song just works with it and it fits with what I wanted to do before I went to that school. I mean, I’m doing whatever I want in terms of music now, why does the violin have to be exempt from that?”

Juleka flashed a small smile to her brother. “I’m glad. I missed you playing around the house. As long as it’s not classics 24/7 again, play to your hearts content. Though, now I really think we should do Invincible.”

“See if you can get Adrien to help you transpose it in a lower key for Rose and you’ve got a deal.”

“Fine. But we wear outfits like the band in the show does.”

Luka furrowed his face. He hated the late-night sunglasses look. The thing he did so he could play violin, it never stopped, just evolved. Expect now he didn’t mind this one.

[artificialqueens]

Blushing (Brita x Aiden) - Eliptic

A/N: It’s your girl Eliptic coming at you with a rare pair! My writing funk has passed… for now, so I’m easing myself back in with a one shot. PS, they’re cis-women in this I’m using drag names with she/her pronouns ~Eliptic

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out with us tonight? I’m the DD, you can drink as much as you want this time.” Brita asked for the thousandth time that day.

Aiden smiled slightly, “I’m sure babe, I’ve got a paper to finish. Order Jan a birthday shot on me.”

Brita gave a small frown, “Okay, but if you’re still awake when I get home, I’m dragging your ass to bed.” She threatened playfully.

“Okay mom.” Aiden teased as Brita kissed her on the cheek before leaving.

Aiden listened as her girlfriends footsteps descended down the hallway, exhaling heavily she switched to the incognito tab that she had been nervously procrastinating opening since she found the page.

How To: A Guide to Your First Time (Lesbian Edition)

Aiden felt her face burn in embarrassment despite being alone in the apartment.  

‘This is completely normal, you were raised in a conservative town that had piss poor, heteronormative sex education that demonized everything you felt inside making you feel guilty for most of your developmental years, but you know better now.’

Aiden centered herself before diving in, switching between several tabs, not even noticing as she slowly sunk into a laying position on the couch until her eyes grew too heavy to keep open.

3 AM

Brita quietly entered the apartment toeing off her shoes, frowning as she saw the dim light of Aiden’s laptop illuminating his boyfriends slouching silhouette.

“I did warn-“Brita cut herself off when she heard her girlfriend snore softly, smiling Brita went to move the computer when she noticed the contents on the screen.

“Oh honey.” Brita whispered to herself, sex had been a topic that Aiden had avoided for the for the first two months of their relationship until at Nicky’s birthday and a game of truth or dare (Jan’s idea) had Aiden shyly confessing that she was a virgin, they had a talk after that made Aiden’s face turn so red Brita thought she would pass out. That ended with Brita reassuring her that there was no pressure or rush and that she would wait for Aiden to be ready. That was over a year ago now and honestly Brita hadn’t thought about it (too often at least) between classes and moving in together, but apparently Aiden had not, judging from the contents on her screen.

Brita smiled fondly, placing the laptop aside before gently shaking Aiden’s shoulder. Aiden responded by grumbling and turning on her side “Fine, get a sore back from the sleeping on the couch again.”

Brita’s voice made Aiden jump, waking up looking in horror between her still very much on laptop and her fondly smiling girlfriend.

“I um.” Aiden blushed, avoiding Brita’s gaze.

Brita smirked sitting down next to Aiden “How’d your paper go babe?” Brita teased

“Don’t laugh,” Aiden pouted.

“Oh baby,” Brita cooed pulling Aiden into a hug “I’m not laughing at you, you’re just too adorable, you took notes!”

“I wanted to at least have some idea of what to do. It was supposed to be a surprise for our anniversary. “Aiden said hiding her face in Brita’s neck “I didn’t want to disappoint you.” He mumbled.

“Impossible.” Brita reassured kissing the top of Aiden’s head. “Although,” Brita pulled Aiden closer “You could have just asked me. ”Aiden shrugged silently buring her burning face in Brita’s shoulder “Now that you’ve completed the written portion, how would you like to take a more hands on lesson.” Brita suggested carefully.

“Well…” Aiden said pulling away slightly “You are a pretty good teacher.” Aiden wrapped her arms around Brita’s neck.

“Would you like to study with me?” Brita smirked, her hands shifting to rest on Aiden’s waist.

“Lead the way.”

Both giggled as Brita picked Aiden up, with minimal struggling, carrying her girlfriend into their room kicking the door shut behind them.

[xaphrin]

Home

The thick, sticky heat of the training room clung to Rachel’s skin, wrapping its heavy fingers around her limbs and pulling her in a million different directions. It felt like her brain was pounding right out of her eyes, and her ears wouldn’t stop. She sunk to the thick mats beneath her, holding her head in her hands as she tried to swallow breaths to calm her heart. 

It was… getting worse. She was getting worse, and she could feel her emotions start to pull at her, tossing her own thoughts in different directions. She should have told someone, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t imagine the disappointment on Dick’s face, or the disgust in Gar’s eyes, or the pity from Kory. 

She couldn’t handle the way they would look at her. 

Like… like she really was a freak.

Rachel sighed, a dark feeling in her chest blossoming into something so heavy she almost felt like she couldn’t stand. Kory. If she were here, she would know what to do or what to say. Rachel pushed at her hair, hearing the whispers grow louder, their words sliding down her spine like a thick poison, bleeding into her bones and her joints. She rolled her shoulder, hearing something pop and crunch underneath the movement. If Kory was here maybe she wouldn’t feel so achingly alone.

Groaning, her back sunk onto the mats and she stared at the lights above her, tracing the shadows on the ceiling with her eyes. That feeling in her chest was growing deeper, pulling her farther into the earth, down into darkness where she could grow roots and disappear forever. 

Maybe that was for the best anyway, disappearing.

…fucking freak. 

Rachel threw an arm over her eyes and let go of a soft sigh, trying to block out the sound of Jason’s words clawing at her. They raked over her body, clawed at her, leaving invisible wounds that she was too ashamed to acknowledge. Guilt filled her chest, filling her with a pain that seemed to repeat over and over until it felt as though it had completely woven into her, leaving her a shell. 

Was this who she was now? A vessel for whatever these powers were? These power that wanted her to attack her friends, hurt the people she cared for and that cared for her? 

This stain on her soul seemed to tighten inside her, and she heard the ragged, wispy sounds of voices still trying to command her attention. They murmured the same phrase over and over, and Rachel tried to ignore them the best she could, but she knew that there wasn’t much she could do to stop hearing Jason’s insult on repeat. 

Fucking freak. Fucking freak. Fucking freak. Freak. Freak. Freak. 

Again and again until Rachel felt like her entire body had dissolved and all that was left was his assessment of her - as wrong as it was. She was more than this. More than her mistakes, more that these powers she didn’t understand from a father she hadn’t even known and a mother who hadn’t loved her. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d been called something that, but it was the first time it hurt like this. She had been used to being pushed out of friend circles, used to being ignored, used to the low whispers and sideways glances, but… she hadn’t ever heard them from someone she had started to call her friend. Sort of. Maybe. Jason was warming up to her, and he was starting to grow on her, and she thought that maybe where could be more than just teammates between them. Maybe they could be friends.  

Still… 

Rachel sighed, her hand tightening across her eyes, and she winced. She couldn’t blame him for what he said, as much as she wanted to. She found herself wanting to hold onto the anger that was weaving into her soul, but she knew better than to do that. Her powers were growing, strengthening day by day, and they were starting to manifest in ways she couldn’t control. If the others saw… or if they knew… Would she still have a place here? Could she still call this home? Or would it be better if they just left her? 

She winced again, pushing her hair out of her eyes. Kory would know what to do. She missed her so much. 

“Rachel.”

She flung her hand off her face and sat up, seeing Jason frowning at her as he skulked through the space. His jaw clenched, and he whipped his head at her huffing annoyed breath through his nose. Rachel watched him, keeping her face unreadable. Jason somehow managed to wear every emotion possible in his expression, and that made him look more of a mess than he usually was. Lips twitching, he stomped past her, walking around the perimeter of the room before returning to the door and walking right out.

Rachel’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his presence pushing her further down. He was still mad at her, and honestly? She was still mad at herself. Rachel sighed and moved to stand up before the door was thrown open again, banging against the wall with a deafening sound. Rachel jolted and she stood there, watching Jason as he stepped into the room.  

“I’m sorry.”

What? She blinked, unable to pull her eyes away as Jason turned around, walking back out of the space again. A moment passed and the doors opened again, albeit with less force this time. Jason took a step back into the room and sighed, he shoulders dropping. 

“I’m sorry.” 

She stood there, shock probably dipping off her face, and stared at him. Had Dick put him up to this? Dick had to have put him up to this, that was the only way she could ever see Jason apologizing for… anything really. He wasn’t exactly the type of person who admitted his mistakes and transgressions.  

“Look.”

Rachel looked into his face, but he wasn’t meeting her stare. Instead he was turned away from her, as if looking at her would be too much. 

“I… I didn’t mean it.” Jason sighed and his shoulders dropped an inch, out of relief or embarrassment, she didn’t know. His shifted again, obviously uncomfortable with whatever was weighing on him. “I don’t… I don’t think you’re a freak.” He puffed out his cheeks and sighed. “And I don’t want you to stay away from me.” He turned and looked the other way, still avoiding her stare. “You scared the shit out of me… and I… I lashed out.”

Rachel felt a teasing comment build on her lips, something snarky like her surprise at an apology from the one and only asshole, Jason Todd. But, whatever comment might have been building died before she spoke. He was trying to make amends, which was miles ahead of where he’d been even a few weeks before now. And, she couldn’t fault him for at least putting forth a little effort. Something in her chest turned over and grew warm, rising up her neck and staining her cheeks. 

“I’m sorry.” Her voice felt like it was swallowed by the sticky heat of the training room, the mats on the floor sucking up all the sound. “I… I should have been better… more careful. I didn’t… I didn’t mean for you to get hurt, and I didn’t mean to lose my control or my temper.” She shifted, pulling the long sleeves of her shirt over her hands, and she glanced away. “You’re… my friend, and I wouldn’t ever want to hurt you.” 

The heavy silence that followed made her look up into his face, and Jason met her stare with a lopsided smirk. The one he usually wore when he felt like he had the upper hand in something. Rachel felt a slice of panic shoot through her chest, and she wondered what she had opened herself to.

“Friends?”

She waited for his own teasing comment, but Jason just nodded once in agreement, pursing his lips as if he thought that was a good idea. 

“I can…” He paused turned the word over in his mind, weighing it. “I can do friends.”

The panic in her dissipated, leaving behind something like relief mingling with a soft, almost gentle warmth - something that felt suspiciously like home. Rachel took a step towards him, offering her own, thin smile. “Well…  friends do say they’re sorry and admit when they make mistakes.”

Jason scoffed, huffing out a breath. “I never make mistakes.”  His eyes lifted to the ceiling in a pantomime of thinking, that smirk returning to his lips. “Most of the time.” 

“Oh, really? No mistakes at all?” Rachel crossed her arms over her chest and took another step closer to him, her own teasing smile pulling at her lips. “Maybe you should learn how to use an incognito tab if you’re going to be looking at porn. That’s definitely a mistake.”

He sneered at her, but it felt in good humor, and he started back out the door, motioning for her to follow. “Come on. Dick left the credit card out on the counter for dinner tonight and I’m thinking… lobster?”

She snorted. “You know that’s just a giant sea bug, right?”

Jason shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, but it’ll at least get him to realize not to trust me in picking out dinner.” His smile widened and he looked over at her as they walked down the hall, side-by-side. “And definitely not to trust me with a credit card.”

Rachel stifled a laugh into the back of her hand, and fell silent as she listened to Jason start rattling off what seemed like an unending list of way too expensive foods that he was going to order for dinner. That darkness in her ebbed slowly, driven away by the rough sound of his voice and the warmth of his company. The echoing voices and fears that wormed their way into the most tender part of her seemed to quiet, and for just a moment, she felt… okay. And that was better than she felt in a long time. 

“Hey.”

Rachel glanced over at Jason, embarrassed she hadn’t realized that he’d stopped talking. A moment passed and he gave her a thin smile, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, and tapped the back of her hand with his knuckles.

Gar rounded the corner of the hallway, his grin so wide and bright that it banished any lingering shadows inside her. He lifted the credit card in front of their eyes. “Look what Dick left.”

Jason plucked it out of his hand with a laugh, digging through his pockets for his cell. “Rookie mistake, Dickie.” 

Rachel was helpless against the breathy laugh that seemed to fill her chest and warm her. Home. That’s… that’s what this felt like. It felt like home. And right now, that was more than she could ask for. 

[quant-um-fizzx]

This is When

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: Reader has liked Steve from afar and, when an opportunity finally arrives, her efforts to be what she thinks he wants have consequences.

Prompt: I don’t know what you want from me/So careless in my company/Oh, if all that you say is true/There’ll be no getting over you (Tearing Me Up – Bob Moses)

Word Count: 6700 (yikes.)

Warnings: Unrelenting Angst. Reader makes poor choices, consistently. This starts several weeks before Endgame, so expect there to be character death mentions. Referenced Steve x Peggy. Mildest smut.

The bad guy isn’t always so easy to spot. A villain, the very last person you expect.

Steve stands, looming larger than life over the disused conference table. Five years of recently unearthed dust still visible on the far corners. Brittle paper rustles as he unfurls an antique, camel-colored map, apparently routing modern comparatives. It’s just him, a screen, and some papers. Despite that, the room feels full, fit to burst. You opt to leave before it does. Turn tail, spin on the ball of your foot, and leave him undisturbed.

“Nope,” you say, pursing your lips and shaking your head as you return to where Nat sits, legs up and feet crossed on her table across the compound.

“No?” She says, surprised and speaking a little slowly around a mouthful of peanut butter. “He won’t do it?”

Your face scrunches up; eyes close not wanting to see her reaction. “No, uh...nope. I sorta couldn’t ask him to.” It sounds more like a question. One eye peeks open while the rest of your face probably looks like you’ve sucked down a crate of lemons.

She plops her half sandwich down dramatically, makes a show of brushing crumbs. “You know,” she begins, eyes twinkling, “I once watched him microwave a can of tomato soup. In the can.”

“I fail to see how that’s relevant here.” It was probably right after he first came to this century, too, you think defensively on his behalf.  

“I’m just surprised you’re intimidated.”

You scoff. “I am allowed to be intimidated. For crying out loud Nat, he punches aliens.”

“I punch aliens.” Her eyebrows lift in challenge, enjoying this too much.

How long has it been? Years since you met him once in passing. Never any real interaction. He may not even recall your name. Sporadic appearances in heavily-crowded rooms, and no mutual dealings before...well, before half of everything went to Hell.

Not much opportunity now, he lives off-site, always gone leading therapy groups and the occasional mission. Still, every time the past few years you’ve heard Nat mention he’s come around the all-but-deserted HQ, butterflies.

Lost in thought for a moment longer than innocent, you spot Nat smirk knowingly.

This is when you decide shit needs to change. Steve Rogers needs to notice you.

“Fine!” You head back out, arms waving near your head in mock surrender.

Striding up behind him in the conference room, you clear the nerves from your throat and, from the subtle flex near his shoulder blades, it’s clear he knows you’re there - that someone is there - but he’s unfazed. He certainly doesn’t notice you. Being unnoticed by Steve Rogers is a skill you’ve unwittingly, unwillingly mastered.

In fairness, he notices you as much as he would most everyone else that’s left. No one’s exactly sneaking up on history’s greatest soldier.

You suspect it’s more of an instant evaluation and subsequent, triaged dismissal: Nondescript person. Location appropriate attire. Behavior within expected parameters. Sufficient security clearance relative to location. Threat level low.

Surely, you’re no threat at all, to him. To yourself...jury’s out.

“Captain Rogers?” You step across the table from him.

He looks up, briefly. Enough to be courteous but remains focused on his project. “How can I help you?”

Suddenly, your lips dry despite the strawberry Chapstick they’re always coated in. “Nat wants me to find out if you’ve made a decision about helping escort the groups next week?”

He leans slightly and braces both arms on the table. Not looking up, he sighs out, “I want to help, but trotting out Captain America doesn’t seem like the way to do it.”

Without thinking, you say, “Hadn’t really been looking for a super soldier to take a bus load of orphans to the museum. Just Steve Rogers: Certified Driver’s License holder.”

A ghost of a smile. He looks up. “Fair enough. Count me in.”

As you leave, practically bouncing from this positive first real interaction, you call over your shoulder, “Though, after you’ve tried to wrangle 150 kids for lunch, that superhero bit might not seem like such a bad idea.”

You hear a faint laugh as you exit.

“You know,” Nat says, right after you tell her Steve’s decision, “I used to suggest dates to him all the time.” She looks wistfully out the window, to a past more than a world away. “He never bit. Maybe that was for the best back then. I was just throwing out names. Trying to get him out.” She says that, but takes a beat. She knows, we both do, that’s not quite it. Not to get him out. It was really trying to help him fit in. “But, yeah, never seemed interested. Made me promise to stop. Stop suggesting. Stop having women bring him coffee, bump into him in the elevator, what have you. So, I promised.” You watch her twist the plastic bag around a loaf of bread and shove it to the back of the counter. “Now, I’m not so sure.”

You look over to the doorway that leads back toward the conference room he’s probably still in. “That seems like a good thing. Probably making him uncomfortable for the sake of a few dates.”

“True. They were good people, not good matches.” She shrugs, a small hitch - one that you only recognize from logging hundreds of hours around her - shows she’s only feigning casual. Quite suddenly, you understand this is a dead-serious talk. “I never regretted making him that promise until you came along.”

You swear you hear an actual record scratch.

“Wh-? What on earth would make you say that?” You look down at your faded t-shirt and - oh, you hadn’t noticed - threadbare yoga pants. Your standards have devolved into If It’s Clean, It Gets Worn. You know your hair’s in disarray, face bare. Not exactly Steve’s button downs and starched jeans.

“C’mon, your ability to adapt? That might be an actual superpower. You both operate on the same compass. Don’t know how to stop putting others first. No compromise. When I saw your letter to Secretary Ross bullet-pointing everything wrong with his stupidass Survivor Mandates? An admin who commits career suicide by telling off the Secretary of State?” Nat shakes her head. “That’s right up there with airport rumbles and jumping outta planes without a chute.”

You really don’t know what to say to that.

Of course, you’d fantasized something happening between you and Steve. Look at him.

Plus, he’s a good guy. THE Good Guy. The Embodiment of morals and decency.

Your room currently has several drained Jameson bottles, at least three weeks’ worth of dirty laundry, a fist-sized hole in the wall from when you received your first reply from Ross, and simply scorchingly filthy porn on an incognito tab. (As a precaution, you’d searched a few vanilla sites too, hoping if anyone ever went snooping through your browser history, they’d be satisfied with that and not dig deeper to find the banned-in-several-states stuff.)

You were more likely to listen to Steve Miller or, heck, even Roger Miller, than Glenn Miller.

You’re convinced you’d turn him off in a heartbeat. Based on what you know of him anyway. A lot can be discerned reading about his life and choices. He is just so closed off - red, white, and blue brick walls. So much in the past.

None of that matters though. It doesn’t matter if you never actually get his attention in the first place.

Looking past Nat at your reflection in the window, you have to wonder how you’d keep it if you ever got it.

Honestly, maybe you shouldn’t even try. Life is barely hanging on. People are either so broken they don’t function or so good at compartmentalization that they don’t move on and just keep trying to resuscitate it, to maintain it.  

“How’s your housing proposal coming along?” Nat breaks you out of your thoughts. “Is it too much? You’re already doing that food program revamp plus the international incident monitoring.”

“Nah, I got it.” You have to. You want to. Anything you can do that allows Nat time to track down her best friend and maybe, just maybe, someone will find a way to bring everyone else back, too.

The skeleton crew that remained at Avengers HQ after Wakanda, after Thanos, had drifted away within weeks. All with broken families and lives that needed stitched up, pressing wounds that demanded them more. All but you and Nat.  Nat had no one and you had no one worth going to. You’d been just another worker bee before, trying to make things right, doing the best you could for the best people so they could actually accomplish things.

Life is full, brimming with grey mourning and chalky despair, and you really don’t need a distraction. Even if it’s as amazing as Steve Rogers.

You almost convince yourself that’s true.

**

The outing goes smoothly. All kids accounted for and - it shouldn’t be the highlight, but it is - Steve has spoken with you most of the day. Usually about the kids and their needs. Interspersed, he asks where you’re from. Who you lost. Where you were when it happened. All the sorts of things everyone has learned to ask so they don’t trigger a breakdown.

“Who did you lose, Steve?” It’s common knowledge, but you ask anyway.

He seems surprised to hear the words. Waits a beat before answering. “This time it wasn’t everyone.”

Near the end of the day, outside the giftshop, you spot him deep in conversation with a rather pretty guide. She scoots a little closer every few moments and he allows it. Her hair is brown, soft waves pulled back in a barrette. Dark red lips. Neatly tucked uniform, pencil skirt.

Huh. Okay. He is very much in the past. Even further than the rest of us.

This is when the idea hits. It’s all at once, a lightning strike forcing it to life.

On the way home, you stop by a drug store and make a solitary purchase: semi-matte, red velvet lipstick.

**

You’re determined to focus on work and not go chasing after him or concoct schemes to run into him. You’re not some errant child running after him like he’s a clanging ice cream truck. You are a mature person with goals and obligations and willpower and if you’ve recently developed a raging interest in the 1940’s, well, that’s pure coincidence.

You are not going to seek him out.

You cave two days later.   

Container of freshly baked (by someone, not you) cookies in one hand, you find yourself waiting for a break in a VA meeting he leads. A curious smile pulls at the corner of his mouth when he spies you leaning against the doorframe.

“Well, let’s take a break. Back in five?” He jogs up to you, eyeing the cookies.  “What’s this?”

“Oh,” you say, holding them up as if you’d forgotten they were there, “These old things?” While you speak, you notice his gaze go to your dark lips. His brow furrows slightly, then back to your eyes. “I just thought maybe your group would like treats?” Suddenly, you feel silly. As if you’ve mistaken combat veterans for kindergarteners in need of snack time. “Do you serve refreshments?”

His rare smile is blinding. “We do now.” Grabbing the cookies, with one last glance that doesn't quite reach up to your eyes, he returns to the group.

As you turn to leave, he calls after you, “Wait, let me introduce you. Please, stay. We’re almost done anyway.”

You position yourself at what you hope appears to be a respectful distance for the remainder of the meeting.

He’s very good, you realize. Gets everyone to open up, encourages them to share and then to move on. Somehow managing to come across as opening up, but never revealing more about himself than any history book contains.

After, he thanks you again.

“It was nothing really. Happy to do it.”

“You baked and came all the way down here with cookies for people you’ve never met?” That isn’t accurate, but you don’t correct him. “I wouldn’t call that ‘nothing.’”  He rubs the back of his neck. “So...I should probably see you home safely.”

Trying to seem not-ridiculously overjoyed, you shrug. “I made it here on my own. I can probably make it back.”

“You stay at HQ, right?”

“Sure do.” “You don’t, uh, have anyon—anywhwere, some place in the city?”

No, you don’t. You shoot your shot. “That’s a story. Wanna hear it over coffee?”

He tilts his head. “Yeah, I could do that.”

Until 2:00 a.m., over cold coffee, you end up talking about pretty much everything except any real details about yourselves.

After you slide out of the booth to leave, he appears deep in thought, runs a finger over the lipstick smudge on your cup.

**

Three days after shared coffee, and roughly eight hours of big band and WW2 research, you paint your lips and slide on a skirt for the first time in years.  

Steve is due at HQ today and, though you don’t know his mission, you are going to find a reason to be in his vicinity.

“Hey, lady,” Nat whistles, “are you trying to seduce your way past Ross’s assistant? Because that skirt might do the trick.”

You run your hands over invisible wrinkles, “Something like that.” You hope Steve makes an appearance soon, because you’ve been so preoccupied that going there had slipped your mind.

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain ca-”

“Shh!” You cut her off as Steve enters. He nods to you. Your cheeks warm as his eyes follow down your skirt.

“Wheels up in 10, Natasha.”

“Think we’ll be back before dinner?” Nat teases.

He gives a withering look. “Maybe dinner next Thursday.”

Now or never. “I was going to make chicken fricassee soon. I could, maybe, do it when you both get back?”

Nat looks at you as if you sprouted two heads. “Uh, sure? Not gonna turn down a home cooked meal.”

Steve follows her lead. “Not sure Romanoff has ever completed a mission report without Chinese take-out, but we can give it a go.”

Nat elbows him and exits, still looking at you through narrowed eyes.

Figuring out how to cook in a few days shouldn't be that hard.

**

It was that hard.

You end up baking a ham instead. The air swirls in brown sugar and cinnamon. Nat, winking, invents a reason to leave immediately with her apple crisp.

Steve watches the common area door shut behind her. “You know, for a spy, she isn’t very subtle.”

“True.” You shrug, busying yourself putting leftover ham slices on rye bread that you’ll insist he take home later. “But maybe there’s no place in this world for subtlety anymore.”

He looks at you, the lipstick you’d touched up earlier, your hair pulled back. Nods softly.

“Steve, would you like to go on a date with me?”

This time he nods a little harder. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

**

Steve’s schedule is only open on the many days you give dance lessons at the orphanages. After some shuffling, you get them postponed.

It takes a few tries, but you start to get the hang of this new look.

Little things at first. Subtle. Small. Glossy clear lips exchanged for matte red. A knee-length dress here and there. Belts to accentuate your waist.  

You try doing your hair differently. It seems somehow too much. Too obvious. Too...her. You know about her, everyone does. You know who she is. It’s a present, tangible thing, his love for that remarkable woman. And she was remarkable, utterly deserving of Steve, if any woman is. Or, was. They’re far beyond star crossed lovers, displaced by glacial ice and merciless march of time.

But you’re right here and, determined.

You can hear the echoes of your grandmother and countless wise women, “Don’t change yourself for any man.”

Oh, but Gram, Steve Rogers isn’t just any man.

At your third dinner, a band plays standards. Several couples get up to dance. You drop hints like rainfall. “Sorry, I...I don’t dance.” He shifts in his seat uncomfortably.

“Oh. Oh, that’s okay. I don’t really either.”

**

His place is spartan. Walls dull grey, painted in longing. A few framed sketches. Stunning, beautiful. He says nothing when he notices you linger on the one of her the longest. It’s gone, tucked away somewhere, the next time you come over to cook dinner.

A few weeks in, over potato soup that turned out pretty good even if you were craving sushi instead, you begin to wonder if you’ve miscalculated this whole thing. You’ve held hands out walking. Hugs linger a little longer. Nothing more. Stagnant.

Maybe he just...can’t. Move on. Move on. Move on. Decade-long mission. Try to move on. Make the best of it. Going through the motions, a caricature of himself, of who he’s supposed to be.

Maybe that’s what you admire the most about him. He just keeps getting back up. It’s not that he won’t break - he seems so very, very impossibly unbroken. Too stubborn from a lifetime of fighting that he won’t surrender tethers to his past.

Whatever it is, or isn’t, you can’t stay away.

Sometimes, he eyes you skeptically.  When you’ve done perhaps too much, channeled a smidge more housewife than prudent (and you do question why you’ve taken this tact but he keeps seeing you so you barrel ahead) when you’ve silently, voluntarily rearranged and back-burnered your own work and interests.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but you really don’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says one evening, setting the table.  

“Oh, it’s no trouble.” It is. “I enjoy doing this for you.” I enjoy doing things for you, but not so much this. “Besides, what else would I be doing?” Cleaning my apartment that I never let you see for many reasons. Actually completing projects. Wearing stretch pants. Work.

He sets a plate down. “What would you like to be doing?”  It’s an innocent enough question, asked innocently enough. It’s only you that makes it feel more like I find it hard to believe you want to be doing this.

This is when you realize you’ve convinced yourself these changes are improvements.

Surely, he - who stands eye-to-eye with gods and monsters, who observes the world from a vantage point that quite literally no one else has - wouldn’t be interested in your mundane, day-to-day work. Not the minutiae of clerical work, grant proposals. Wouldn’t endure your ironic love for hair bands that is pretty light on the irony or backtrack on that whole no-dancing rule.

He’d definitely be leaving a Steve-shaped exit hole in the wall sprinting in the opposite direction of the porn you haven’t peeked at in weeks.  

You venture another look. His face is earnest. You recall something you’d always meant to do.

“Well, I think shelters want people to come pet the cats.” Oh, god. What if he hates cats? “Dogs, er, dogs and cats. Animals.” Smooth.

He smiles, a little wider than you could’ve anticipated, and resumes placing silverware.

“If you’re free Saturday, let’s go.”

The questions start again during dinner. Having things done for him, his disquiet is palpable, like his skin itches and stretches over knitting wounds. Forgotten scars busted open.

“You do realize it was never like that for me, right?” He says. “There wasn’t pot roast on the table and a newspaper waiting for me. I grew up in the Depression. It was a mug of hot water instead of tea and getting sent to bed so early we didn’t notice we’d missed dinner.”

You had realized that. You hadn’t realized he knew you were catering specifically to him.

“This is how my grandparents raised me. I miss that sense of home, that sense of...comfort?” You fiddle with a spoon, your reflection elongated, distorted along its curve. “Steve, just because you didn’t get it, doesn’t make it right.”

His head draws back, taking you in. An unreadable look in his eye.

“I know you didn’t get what you deserved,” you chew the words, “back then. I just want to help you get it now.” Fidgeting, words feeling too...accurate. “Or, the closest thing to what you...we deserve.”

His hand covers yours, wraps fingers together, entwines. Gives you a tailored version of his VA coaching. Tells you that the world is what we make it. That it can be good and right. That he knows you’re holding back, holding something back, but admits he is, too, that he isn’t sure he knows how not to anymore. “Please,” he starts, squeezes your hand gently, “what aren’t you telling me?”

Slipping your hand out from under his, missing the warmth immediately, you start without thinking. “You’re here and I’m here and making the best of it. Have you felt…” you stop for a moment, realizing something you hadn’t let yourself think before, “...have you even felt real in years?”

The back of his chair squeaks as he leans back against it. Concedes. “Not very often.”

“I’m tired of it, weary of just getting by. Aren’t you, Steve? What are our lives for, if not for something better than just seeing if we can make it to another sunset?”

This is when you think it’s all gone to Hell. Maybe you’ve overstepped.

Wordlessly, never taking his eyes off you, he folds his napkin, pushes his chair back, stands up and comes directly over to where you sit. Bending his knees until he’s at eye level, he runs his hand along the side of your face, thumb tracing your skin, and slowly, slowly places his lips on yours.

You can’t help the smile that overtakes you mid-kiss.  He pulls back and smiles, too, color in his cheeks.

It’s all very sweet and proper. Nice.

Then you notice the slightly darker tint to his eyes and you, for lack of a better word, lose it.

“C’mere.” You grab his collar and crash your lips to his. His eyes fly open and you almost laugh but you use this element of surprise to propel yourself out of your chair and twist until he’s flat and you’re straddling his chest.

Hovering an inch above his pleasantly, openly shocked face, you breathe out, “Wanna start living in the moment, Mr. Rogers?”

He does. Three times, all the most polite missionary orgasms in history. No complaints. You do a No-Shame-At-All-Walk back to HQ the next day.

**

It’s gradual, but somewhere along the line, he starts talking to you. Really talking. About his mom. Drawing. Losing Bucky again. And again. The Strike Team’s betrayal - his team for over a year - acute and somehow still raw.

Days become mutual, together. Not alone. The kind of unalone so stark and bright, like daybreak rain, that it highlights how alone you’ve both been. Like you’d hoisted the cellar door and crawled out of its dank depths.

One night, a man from his groups doesn’t make it. Car wreck.

“Go, Steve. It’s okay. They need you.”

“It’s strange now,” he sighs. “To have death come suddenly, in such a… normal way.”

“Us normal folk don’t often get epic send-offs,” you joke, lamely. Apologize with your eyes. His brow tightens like he didn’t really want to contemplate that.

“The group wants to grab a few drinks,” he says. You know he means you’d be bored, since this version of you doesn’t drink. “I don’t know how long...” His voice is the slightest tinge hopeful.

“Just go,” you say softly.

You wait at his place. Answer overdue emails, start to catch up. Feel more like yourself.

Sometime after midnight, you fall asleep on top of his bedspread. Later, he slips in, curls up around you. Tucks you below his chin. He smells of soap and something distinctly Steve. You stir and turn to him, palm flat on his chest, press a soft kiss above his heart.

“You stayed.” He kisses your fingers.

“Of course,” you say, sleep-slurred.

Before sunrise, he buries himself inside you, tilts your hips, angles in. It’s slow sweat and sweet, limbs tangled and swallowed breaths. Holds your face, hands woven in your hair as he rocks in you. Never says a thing, his tongue curls into your mouth, pushes your secrets back in.

And you fall a little further each passing night. It feels foreign, but warm. Like remembering something you never really knew.

What should be joy is horror. You’ve never been more scared. Even when you’d watched everyone on your bus disintegrate, driver’s hand gone to soot.

Late one weeknight, you burn the ever-loving shit out of your hand on the stove. A string of creative curse combinations leaves your mouth for a full forty-five seconds. It’s all very incongruous with the frilly apron and (useless) oven mitts.

He looks gloriously scandalized before laughing until his eyes water.

He takes you bent over the island and it is anything but polite. Positively revels in you. Reveals spots you didn’t know you had. You scream his name.

Ragged breaths behind your ear. “You’re so close...I want it.” His words push you over, as you clench he loses rhythm, follows.

Panting, pressed against cool granite, confessions carved into stone, you hear yourself whisper how much you love him.

He has propriety enough to act like he didn’t hear you.

**

This is when it gets awkward. Two steps forward, three miles back.

You barely speak the next day. And the next. Then, it’s the most days without seeing one another since this whole mess started.

On day four, you slide out of your sweats and into a dress, paint on your face, and go lean on his apartment door to wait for him.

Being alone with one’s thoughts is never a great exercise, but certainly not for someone who has been play-acting for a few months. Mentally, you scroll through all the deadlines you’ve missed.

Nat’s voicemail replays in your head. “Hey, I know you might think this isn’t my business, but you’re my business and those kids are my business and, frankly, Steve is my business. You’ve lost perspective and, again, frankly, I didn’t think you’d be like this with him. Please call me. Or, come to work. Both. Both would be good.”

You look up at the ceiling and breathe out. An unblinked tear escapes.

You miss Steve approaching. “Hey, are you o-” he starts, then chews his lip for a moment.  “We need to talk.”

“I’m not so sure we do.” You stare blankly at the walk ahead. “I think I’m just gonna go.”

“Is that what you want?” “It’s what you want that’s at issue here.” Another traitorous tear slides down your face. “I know I’m not genuinely what you want.” “Damn it,” he huffs, mostly to himself. “Just come inside. We shouldn't do this in the hallway.”

You move off the door and he goes in, pulling you in at first, then looks to where he holds you and drops your arm as if burnt.

“Sorry.” “You don’t really have anything to be sorry for Steve, except maybe avoiding me for a few days.”

He runs his hands over his face. “I just don’t think I can be what you need. I thought I could, but I just don’t think I’m...capable of that anymore.”

“Capable of what?” You know. But you need to hear him say it, to rip it off like a bandage left too long, gauzy fibers soaked, enmeshed with tissue. If you finally hear it, then you can...you don’t know.

“Oh, shit, this sounds so bad. I want to. I want to love you. There are moments when I think I could, that it could happen, but it just...doesn’t.”

This is when you break.

No rebuttal comes. Your mind sparks but fades. You can’t help but try to hang on, dig in, your fingers clawing at the dirt. “It’s okay, Steve. I didn’t mean t-” “It is definitely not okay! None of this is okay. I don’t want to hurt you or waste your time.” He shakes his head. “I can’t ask you to compromise like that.”

“The whole damned world now is nothing but compromise and it sure as Hell didn’t ask.”

“We’re better than that,” he says, frowning. “We deserve real.”

“Are ‘we’ better than that? You...you are. Me? I don’t know.” You try to laugh but it just chokes off. “The planet used to be stuffed with twice as many people and most of us - I sure as Hell was, weren’t you? - were very much alone.”

He sighs. Brushes a tear from under your eye. “Part of me...part of me is always going to be someplace else.” This isn’t news. You blow out air slowly. “How I feel isn’t going to change whether you feel the same or not. I don’t want you to send me away because you think you know better.” You aren’t crying anymore. You’re mad. “I want to be with you, regardless.”  A blind rage, mostly at yourself. Probably all at yourself. “It’s my choice and I damned well think you’re worth it.”

His face is genuinely stunned.

**

You both really do try. Make the best of it.

Things change though.  

Resigned that, whatever he feels, it’s not love. It’s affection adjacent. If a thin line exists between love and hate, then it’s a thick metal girder between love and like.

You double down. Desperate, every word rehearsed, every aspect honed to perfection. Let me have these pieces of you in exchange for pieces of me.

In the throes, one night, you hear him stop himself from saying it. He doesn’t mean to, you know it. He can’t help himself any more than you can. It’d be fighting oceans and tides and lightless moons.

On your knees, in stockings and red-lipped, before him. “Peg-...Pe-...Please...don’t stop.” The pain squeezes your heart, musculature seeping between its dead, cold digits. You swallow it down along with him.

On top of you, wrapped up around you, his hoarse puffs beside your ear. They all sound like the beginning of her name.

They all are.

You could pretend it’s your name, a name for what you’ve become. Placeholder. Placebo. But even that’s not accurate. You’re pure medicine scorching through his veins. You’re this century’s super serum, burning up under the hot lights and sterile space a Stark made for him. You’re on fire, searing away trying to be what you think he needs - but, he didn’t need anything to be good, never did - all the while, over the chaos, Peggy shouts to stop.

You signed on for this.

Because you faked it so well, you’d fooled yourself.

Messy. Misaligned. Reckless love.

You take to crying in the shower. Searching every piece of you, you don’t know what more you can change or give or swap out like spare parts, to finally, finally, be enough/real/alive.

In the fogged mirror, you look. Truly look. A collection of cobbled together bits and limbs. Someone else’s lips and hair and clothes. All yourself and your work amputated.  A zombie pantomime of by-gone ideals and remembrances.  

You wipe away the fog again. There, smeared and broken among the watery trails, it is all too obvious why he cannot love you. You do not love yourself like this. A monstrous visage, the good parts ignored to decay, just a stitched-up collection of dead things.

He catches you crying sometimes. Swears to leave you for good and you beg him to stay. Every time. Holds you tight to his chest and whispers he’s sorry and promises to stop hurting you because he cares, he really cares, but you don’t think he knows exactly who is to blame.

He is late getting to his place one night so you start the record player. Sway, arms wrapped around yourself as Billie Holiday sings “You Go to My Head.”

On the refrain, Steve comes up behind you. Places his lips gently on your shoulder, runs his hands down your arms.

“Dance with me, Steve,” you say, facing away. Hold yourself a little tighter.

You hear his short gasp.

“God, please give me this, Steve. Please, just dance with me.” You didn’t ask, but I gave up everything for you.

Wordlessly, he turns you and draws you to him. Sways until the notes fade away.

**

Your heart might not beat for a solid minute when the words “Time Travel” first come up.

It’s the end. Steve doesn’t realize what he’s going to do, but you do. Given half the chance, there’s no doubt.  

“Hey, Doll.” He pulls you into his chest. “It’s going to be okay. This is what we do.”

You nod against him. No doubt they will be successful. Mutely, you pull out of his embrace. You cannot leave fast enough, this place where all these gods and angels stand.

Your last mistake is not going to your room.

While the solitary bird flits around where you sit in the courtyard, a concerned Steve overrides security to get into your quarters to comfort you.

When you get to your room, Steve is there. Looks so out of place, like a dog on its hind legs. His face is flat, eyes cold. Silently, he turns your digital photo frame toward you. Each photo stripping away another lie. A photo of you with your parents, another in your toe shoes, two at recitals, tongue out and drunk at an Ozzy concert. Not one looks like you now. Not one.

Jaw squared, he looks to the kitchen where printouts of old recipes litter the counter.

“Steve,” you say, starting to reach for him. He puts a hand up. “Steve, let me explain.”

“You know,” his voice is steel, “I didn’t go out with you because you reminded me of the past. I went out with you because you asked me.”

“Steve, I just wanted to…wanted to…” “You wanted to what? Read about me in a textbook and try to be - what? - fake it? Ugh, God.”  He rolls his eyes, body half-twists away.

“It’s not like that.” Except, it is.

“It’s not? Oh, well then please tell me. Enlighten me. Because from where I am right now, it sure fucking looks like you took things you thought were special to me and just, what? Wore it like a suit to manipulate me?”

Near numb, you shake your head.

“It worked...it worked so well and you let me feel guilty about it!”

The shame pushes your legs out from under you. “I just wanted to make you happy.”

“Me? You can try to tell yourself that. No, you did this for you.” Holds the picture frame in both hands, the colors reflect in his eyes as they change. Under his breath, he says, “I don’t even know you.”

Steve nails you with his gaze. “Do you even realize what you’ve stolen from me? What you guilted me into? What I saved and I can never get back?”

Billie Holiday echoes in your brain. The song, the dance. Like a miracle, you hate yourself more.

You are carved down, scoured out, brittle bones bleached in the sun.

He shakes off his anger slightly. “I knew you were holding back, but this?” He points to a stack of work you’d let languish. Detailed housing plans, nutrition guidelines, research and half-complete presentation charts. “I can’t understand why...why wouldn’t you include me in this? Were you scared of not being enough? Too much? Of being you?” He sighs out. “Everyone can have those thoughts, that’s understandable. But, you didn’t trust me with you.”

You desperately reach for him, hold his arms. “I do trust you. I do.”

He scoffs. “The problem is you let me care about someone who doesn’t even exist. Who never existed. You kept “you” secret from me while I opened up to you. You think I let anyone else ever know how fucked up I feel?”

He looks at you in a way you never wanted. With grief.

“Damn it - Goddamn it all. I let you in.” I expect him to punch the wall, but the air just leaves him. He deflates. Smaller than ever seemed possible.  “I fucking let you in.”

**

Everyone comes back. Except Nat. All you have left is her voicemail.

There’s no more times together. Nothing.

It’s always been beautiful, pulsing nothing.

Bleeding out every pore.

In a makeshift office miles from decimated HQ, you bury yourself in her projects and try to resurrect your own until it’s time for Tony’s memorial.

You’re not sure why you’re going. Apart from Tony hiring you, you don’t really know anyone else there except Steve. But, Tony gave you a chance and, while you’ve mucked it up spectacularly of late, you go to honor him as best you can.

You try to stay in the shadows, so you’re surprised Steve finds you nonetheless. Even more surprised he tries.

Looking out over the water, he asks, “Are you going to be okay? Did you find a place to stay?”

“Yes.” No and yes.

“I’m so very sorry Steve. I just wish, I just wish…”

“Don’t, okay?” He blows out a sigh. Hands in his pockets. “If you didn’t trust me, I could work to make you. If you didn’t trust yourself, I’d help you learn to. But you didn’t trust either of us and there’s nothing I can do about that.  And that’s a damned tragedy.” He turns and starts to walk past you.

“Steve! Steve wait!” You cringe, your voice echoes over the serene lake. He keeps walking.

“Steve.” You sniff. “Please.” He takes a huge gulp of air and turns partially toward you, staying in profile. Shaking his head softly, jaw askew, he lifts his hands and lets them fall as if to say, “What do you want from me?”

“Can we just try again? Start over?”

How did we meet? How did we meet back when I was real?

“Steve, I’m...I’m so sorry. You’re right. I was more than guarded, I was trying so hard to be good for you. I took what I knew and what you showed me and tried so hard to mold myself into what I thought you’d want. I know that was so stupid now. But I know you. I know you! And I just want a chance for you to know me. I...I...I like metal bands and R&B. I’m a cat AND dog person. I used to tap dance. There’s photographic evidence! They let me back on the orphan program and we’re using it as a template for veterans.  I have yelled in the face of the Secretary of State. More than once. My grandparents didn’t raise me but I spent summers with them.” You choke back more tears. “I am actually a bit of a pervert. That’s who I am. I screwed up. I just want a chance to show you ‘me.’”

You cough and through blurry vision it almost looks like he starts to reach for you. Then, his arm pulls back.

“But what I felt - what I feel for you is so real. I’m absolutely in love with you, Steve Rogers.” You wipe your sleeve across your wet face. “I know I screwed up and I hurt you and I have no excuses, but I am b-begging you to give me a chance. Just let me start over.”

He doesn’t move, still looking out over the lake.

“Steve, please, I just want to show you who this girl really is.”

“She sounds amazing,” he says, toneless. Walks past you toward the platform where a case full of gems and a magic hammer wait.  “I wish I could’ve met her. I would’ve loved her.”

This is when you know. You’re the bad guy in your own story.

[paradisobound]

I Want It, I Got It: Chapter 12

Summary: Phil Lester was a worker for the BBC in London. Working in the advertising department, he was content being alongside his friend and fellow coworker PJ during every shift. However, the BBC is temporarily being used as a film set for a new movie staring Hollywood ‘It’ star, Daniel Howell. Being stuck as an extra on the set, Phil finds it’s hard to ignore the famous star. And maybe, just maybe, Dan finds it hard to ignore Phil as well.

Word Count: 1.9k (this chapter)

Warnings: Occasional swearing and light smut 

Rating: Explicit (from this point on) 

Updates will be every Sunday at 1pm EST

**MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3**

A/N: Updates are going to be every Sunday now until I get back ahead of myself writing! I’m running the risk of catching up with myself and I don’t want to write chapters week to week, I’d prefer to have them done in advance! Sorry! 

It was hard for Phil to watch Dan leave the next morning, that he will admit. He never expected to feel such a gutted sensation in his chest to see Dan get into the black cab and drive off into the distance. 

He got used to having another person in his life, living at his flat even if it was just for three days. So to go from hearing Dan to having radio silence again was hard. He even thought for a moment that Spike felt the same way with the way he whimpered for minutes after Dan left. 

He fell asleep, not long after. And he tried his best to sleep in before he had to go back to the BBC for his next shift. By 10am, he was already catching the tube to the BBC and he was already missing the last few days. 

PJ was already in the office before him, sitting at his laptop and scribbling on a piece of blank paper. “Morning.” Phil says, setting down his bag at his desk and plopping into the chair. “How was your weekend?” 

“Quite eventful actually.” PJ answered, looking from his laptop and leaning back in his seat. “Sophie and I went to visit her parents in Brighton.” He paused. “Although, I don’t think our weekend was quite as eventful as yours. When were you gonna tell me that you and Daniel Howell were shacking up in your flat?!” 

Phil’s eyes widened and he immediately stood up, walked over to the door of their office, and shut it before returning back to his desk. “Okay, listen.” Phil began. “Dan wanted to come back to London without being noticed so he stayed at my flat this weekend. It was nothing more.” 

“Well, you two certainly made a mark with that video you posted.” 

“What are you talking about?” Phil questioned. “It was just a harmless video.” 

“Have you even been on social media since you posted it?” PJ asked, suddenly turning his laptop around to show Phil the screen. 

Phil gulped, and read the first headline. 

“HEART EYES HOWELL? IS THIS THE NEW MYSTERIOUS MAN IN DANIEL HOWELL’S LIFE” 

“PJ, you know that’s bullshit!” Phil cried, pointing at the screen. “Dan and I are just friends!” 

PJ threw his hands up. “Calm down, mate.” He said, his voice soft. “I know that. But I’m just telling you what every single story is about. Your video is the product of every entertainment news source out there. Everybody who watched your video is commenting about how you and Dan acted in it. That’s all I’m saying.” 

Phil felt his body tense but then relax. PJ wasn’t trying to be rude or even aggressive, he was just looking out for Phil. He had to remember that. That’s exactly why PJ was showing Phil these headlines now and not letting Phil discover them for himself. 

“I’m sorry.” Phil said, letting out a breath. “I’ve been on edge about the entire thing. The video was Dan’s idea but I also agreed to it.” 

PJ nodded and reached down, turning his laptop back to face him again, the headline no longer glaring Phil in the face. 

“Phil, can I ask you something.” 

Phil felt his stomach drop, and his heart pick up speed. Looking closely, one could probably see the way Phil’s chest was beating so hard through his jumper. 

“Are you and Dan dating?” 

Phil knew the question was coming and even though the answer was, without a doubt, no, he still felt a multitude of answers go through his head as he began to process it. He could say any number of responses from no to I want to. But he doesn’t know the correct response. 

“No.” Phil says finally. “Dan and I are not dating.” 

There is a lull in the air, his words hanging like a string in front of them. PJ looks down at his desk and then back up at Phil. “You’d tell me if you two were together right? Like you wouldn’t let me find it out over some stupid headline?” 

Phil nodded. “If Dan and I ever date, then I’ll tell you.” 

PJ flashed him a smile and Phil flashed one back. 

The room remained silent as they worked on their own assignments, and when it came time for them to leave, they both took the same tube train and went out to coffee and dinner at a local cafe. 

***

Phil found it hard to go back onto social media. He found it incredibly difficult to even open up his Twitter app or even his Facebook. The worst part yet was that his brother and even his mum had texted him as well, talking about the video and asking all sorts of questions. He particularly didn’t want to answer anyone. 

His afternoon found himself sitting on his couch with Spike between his feet on the floor, chewing on a new toy Phil had found in his closet, still in the packaging. Spike didn’t ruin toys easily so Phil never bought him anything. So for Spike, even though it was only February, it was Christmas. 

Speaking of February, Valentine’s Day was in two days and Phil was feeling the soft pit in his stomach at, once again, not having anyone to share it with. Last year, he had opted for a sad hook up via Grindr that he regretted almost as soon as it was over―which granted, it only lasted around five minutes. 

But this year, he didn’t have any plans besides sitting at home with Spike and thinking of Dan. It’s hitting him pretty hard now, he’s decided. This crush has turned into more and he’s definitely seeing that now as he lets out a loud sigh, causing Spike to look up at him before he returning to his gnawing. 

He supposes that it’ll be just as pathetic this year, eating chocolate alone (even though he’s allergic but not bad enough where he’ll willingly give it up) and indulging in some self-love that night. 

Thinking about it now, he doesn’t even remember the last time he got himself off. It’s kind of sad really. He’s been so preoccupied with Dan that he hasn’t even had time to really think about his own needs. 

He shakes his head. He shouldn’t be ashamed about getting himself off in his own time. And maybe, deep down, he’s not. But he is ashamed about the fact that he’s currently thinking about Dan and about getting himself off all in the same thought. 

But surely he’s not alone in this right? It’s not entirely a bad thing to think of someone so attractive that you could get off to their image? Isn’t that just porn? Phil’s gotten off to a lot of porn over his teenage and adult year. 

This is dumb. And worst of all, his pants are feeling tighter as he continues to think about porn and other images in his head. And even worse yet, he’s imaging Dan’s face, the way his dimples sunk into his skin as he spoke or even smiled. How would they look as Dan was in the throes of pleasure? 

Heat begins to course in his stomach and he finds himself feeling the urges of arousal. He stood up from the couch, leaving Spike behind as he walked to his bedroom and shut the door, not particularly feeling like he was willing to jerk off with Spike watching him. 

Phil unlocked his phone and goes into Safari, clicking on incognito mode as he types in his favorite porn site into the search bar. He’s nearly clicking on the link to the site, his left hand already palming himself through his pajama pants when he gets possibly the worst thought in his head. 

He suddenly finds himself googling “Dan Howell sex scene”. Dan had mentioned that he did an indie film with his ex-boyfriend that involved a sex scene. God, why is he trying to find this? This has to be wrong? 

But yet, he’s clicking on a link to it and the video comes up on his phone screen and there is Dan, shirtless on a bed kissing some hunky blonde. He looks younger than the Dan he knows now. For one, his hair is longer and pin-straight. Not even a curl in site. And his body is less defined, much skinnier than he is now. His heart races and he sees the name of the movie credited by the video. Rain of Colorado. He quickly googles the name of the film and finds out that it was filmed in 2014 and that makes him feel a lot less guilty over getting off on it considering Dan would be 23. 

He goes back to the original tab with the video and presses play and instantly, his senses are overloaded. Dan’s moans coming from the kisses are actually pornographic. His body language and his shirtless torso is…breathtaking. Phil feels his body let out a little moan as he reaches down into his pants and takes himself into his hold, stroking slowly to get himself to full hardness. 

The video continues and suddenly Dan is underneath this guy, the camera is showing them moving together are one, the bed moving with them. The headboard is hitting the wall and banging like a drum to Phil’s ears. 

The scene ends just as both Dan and his ex appear to orgasm. And of course it is all fake but Phil still feels his breath shorten and his cock leak in his palm as he strokes faster and faster. He reaches down, the phone tossed to the side, and pulls his pants down under hardened cock, letting it hit his stomach with a wet smack. He spits into his hand for some extra leverage and picks up his pace, stroking himself with more and more eagerness. 

It feels amazing, despite it being only his hand.  

He’s imagining Dan’s face as he orgasmed on film. His mind flashed to how amazing Dan would look under him as Phil thrusts into him and over and over again as they chase their high. Or maybe it would be Dan thrusting into Phil. He’s likes both sides. 

The heat coils in his stomach way too fast for his liking and he cups his left hand over the head of his cock just in time to catch his release, streaking white over his fingers. His body is heaving and he’s breathing way too hard but the release was enough to rest his tired and tense muscles and his constantly overthinking brain. 

He reaches to his nightstand and grabs a wad of tissues as he wipes off his hand and then tosses the tissues in his waste bin. He should get up and wash off, even take a shower, but he’s feeling too much like jelly to stand. 

He tucks himself back into his pants and then grabs his phone, closing the video and closing out of the tab. He goes back to his home screen and notices a little red bubble next to his messages app and he opens it, reading the message. 

Dan: That was the worst scene I’ve ever filmed and I actually feel a bit humiliated are you able to talk? 

His heart falls out of his chest and he suddenly feels like he’s going to be sick. 

But he answers anyway. 

Phil: Of course! Call whenever you’re ready! 

[scribeofmorpheus]

I Don’t Dance To Dubstep part 3 (A Deadpool Fic)

Part One, Part Two

Here is a deleted scene of dialogue for this chapter if you are interested!

A/N: Okay so the conversation with Cable about the scars isn't intended to be a metaphor for self-harm or hint at bad parenting. Instead, it is meant to be a metaphor for embracing ones perfectly imperfect flaws like stretch marks or cellulite or skin discolouration. In short, it's nothing ominous. Also, this is the longest chapter yet! And don’t mind the fact I inserted myself into the fic, he does like to break that fourth wall of realism that darned Wade Wilson! Readers mutant power given alter ego is DJ, so no ‘Y/N’ in this chapter.

Words: 2399

Warnings: Mature Language,

(Gif isn’t mine)

"Okay be honest, what would you want your stripper name to be?" Wade continued his useless musings with Domino over the comms.

"That's easy: Lady Luck," Domino said without having to think about it.

"Huh… I'd go with Shiklah the Divorcer, abbreviate it to STD." Wade said wryly. There was a larger story behind his words.

"What?" Domino asked, completely oblivious to the context of the STD jeer, although truthfully, no one else seemed to get it either.

"Are we all in position?" asked Wade over the secure channel. Your earpiece felt like nails on a chalkboard due to your ability to focus sound waves. Your head snapped to the side and you made a hissing noise. Cable, who had been partnered up with you shot a concerned look your way. You raised your scarred hands up to signal you were fine.

"We're in position," Cable answered, the feedback from your proximity to each other caused another intense soundwave to vibrate through you. You winced and decided to remove the earpiece. "Won't you need that?" Cable asked you.

You gave a half crooked smile, "That's what you're here for, isn't it? Kick ass, not take names and listen to Wade's annoying voice shouting profane nonsense into your ears?"

Cable hummed, unamused by the image you just painted in his mind, "Unfortunately," he said. He opened his fanny pack- Ahem! His utility bag- and grabbed his lip balm, applying some on with a very serious expression on his face while maintaining eye contact with you. It felt both intimate and weird all at once. You were definitely confused by it. According to Wade, he did that a lot.

You cackled in a dramatic fashion after the eye contact turned from intense to awkwardly silly, filling the empty street with a Wicked-Witch-of-the-West sounding laugh echoing through the empty street. Bored, you used your abilities to amplify the frequency, making the laugh boom louder.

Cable tilted his head as Wade undoubtedly had something to say about your use of your powers for no reason other than boredom, "Wade said to keep it down to the 'sexy octave levels of James Earl Jones'," Cable relayed to you.

You whispered "Fuck you, Wade Wilson," and amplified the sound of your words into an even louder pitch until the glass windows groaned from the intensity and Cable was forced to cover his ears from the sheer volume of it.

"That's not exactly keeping things discrete, DJ, might want to tone it down a bit!" Cable shouted in discomfort, his words drowned out by the frequency of your own.

"Yeah, well we've been sitting in this car park dressed like background characters of a Will and Grace special for two hours now. If she was indeed on her way here, she'd have been here by now!" You huffed.

The two of you were on rear exit duty. If Wade and Domino failed to trap and kidnap the new contract, the two of you would give her a rude awakening. To your annoyance, your target was uncharacteristically tardy today, so for now, all four of you waited, dressed in the most unflattering disguises, staying incognito while stalking around the building your target regularly frequented. It was a Chinese restaurant that acted as a front for an illegal underground gambling ring. Your target was a pill pushing 'Madame' who had a habit of gambling away half her profits.

Cable closed his eyes and leaned against the hood of the car you drove in, it was a taxi, Deadpool had called up his pal Dopinder, who was out on a coffee run, to drive the four of you to the location. You sat cross-legged, shades shielding your eyes from the sun, on top of the warm yellow hood, there was an odd impression on the opposite side of the bumper that looked like the kind of mark someone who had been run over would leave.

Cable was taking slow, thoughtful breaths, not at all bored by the inactivity. You had noticed he always carried a teddy bear everywhere with him, it was quite the juxtaposition to his otherwise serious, brooding default setting. Letting curiosity win over you, you blurted out: "What's the deal with little Osito there?"

Osito was Spanish for bear. You had grown up in a bilingual household. Your mom was the one who prominently spoke Spanish at home, you had an easy time picking it up as a kid.

"What's the deal with the scars on your hands?" He asked, deflecting his personal question by asking you a personal question of your own. Smartass. He thought he had the upper hand, he assumed you wouldn't be comfortable talking about your scars, everyone always assumed that. He was in for a rude awakening!

"Casualty of being such a badass!" you quipped playfully. Cable gave you a small chuckle making you feel like you had just paved through a new milestone in your… acquaintance-ship?

"Is that so?"

"I managed to bring the great Cable to his knees on our first meeting, so yeah, I say so," you smirked proudly at him and he scowled.

"As a kid, my parents didn't understand what I was. I didn't either. I'd cause small quakes when I was angry or sad or happy or excited. Murdered a lot of Mom's fine china. Busted Dad's TV once. Eventually, they couldn't pretend anymore, and I saw how much I scared them. I scared myself if I'm honest. They told me to be normal, stop with all my craziness. I didn't know any better, I didn't know my abilities were as much a part of me as the colour of my eyes or the slant of my nose, so I repressed it. These-" you rotated your hands this way and that, giving Cable a show of spirit fingers, showcasing all the scars and tears from years of cuts and numerous surgeries, "These were the resulting effect. I broke many fingers. Some cases the waves would slice through skin. After my eighth break, I said 'Fuck it!' I began to use my abilities freely and openly. Of course, I was smart enough to know when to be discrete and when to wreak untold havoc upon some asshole who groped my ass in high school. And I haven't looked back ever since."

You had shocked Cable with your candour. You never minded explaining the scars, they were just younger versions of your many battle wounds. They made you what you are -which may not be perfect, but you couldn't give a flying fuck if you didn't conform to societies controlled demographic of normalcy. You were a rebel all your own. You gave Cable a wink, not at all shy or embarrassed that you just spilt private secrets so nonchalantly.

"Jesus," he said, only with less sarcasm then you ever thought him able to muster. "Did you kill him? The Asshole in high school?"

You laughed, amused at his question. He must think you some sociopath. Then again with an apathetic partner like Truth Dog and a habit of shooting up Wade all the time, he might not be wrong. It was still fun though!

"No, I didn't kill him. I used my sonic frequency to shatter all his trophies the school displayed in the trophy case. I may not have seen it, but I know he cried afterwards. Murder isn't the only solution you know. Some days you just have to find what stupid, materialist things people associate with their self-worth and-" You focused a low-frequency sound wave on the car and the window glass shattered in your demonstration, "Apply enough pressure!"

"My CAR!" Dopinder whined from behind you as he raced over to the taxi with his tray of coffees.

"Whoops!" You whispered before pointing nonchalantly to Cable, "He forgot to set his gun to stun. He sneezed and it just went off. Be glad he hadn't had the dial turned up to 11!" You blatantly threw Cable under the bus. He didn't say anything, but you could feel his cool eyes staring at you in less than amused mood. You giggled playfully.

"Yeah, well I hope you can pay for this Mr Cable, because I already have that dent to get out from Mr Pool's joyride when he was drunk that one time and decided to go all GTA on everyone," Dopinder said in his accented tone.

"Put it on my tab," Cable growled, causing Dopinder to gulp, a bead of sweat gathering above his temple.

"On second thought, I'll just put it on Mr Pool's tab. Since he'll… you know, need to use my cab again."

"Did you say something, Mr Roboto?" You heard Deadpool coo over the earpiece at Cable.

"Your coffee is here," Cable said. Through the earpiece, you heard Wade make an excited squealing noise and what sounded like Domino sighing heavily.

Some seconds later, Deadpool and Domino came repelling down a pipe from the roof and rushed over to get their coffees from Dopinder. Domino chose to wear her hair in stylish Bantu Knots, she had said it was a bad hair day, but she looked as flawless as ever. You were afraid you might be in love with her, or maybe it was her hair or the fact she had heterochromia, or at the very least you were maybe little too obsessed with her outfit! Who cared, Domino was plain freaking awesome!

"Give me that sugary goodness," Deadpool said as he kissed Dopinder through his mask and reached for his coffee. He took his mask off halfway, exposing his mouth, and sucked down dramatically on the frothiest, most hideous excuse for a coffee you had ever seen.

Domino grabbed her macchiato and Cable his latte, you were surprised someone all dark and brooding and serious like him would drink anything with milk in it. You grabbed your cappuccino and thanked Dopinder who was drinking a milkshake.

"What the FUCK is this?" Deadpool asked after he finally finished taking his first sip, more like chug. "This isn't the Caramel Macchiato, Venti, Skim, Extra Shot, Extra-Hot, Extra-Whip, Sugar-Free coffee I ordered!" He bellowed loudly.

"Are you sure that thing is even classified as coffee anymore?" Domino quipped after taking a sip of her macchiato.

"Are you sure that thing is even classified as coffee anymore?" Wade mimicked like a four-year-old brat.

"Whatever," Domino said raising her hands in the air and rolling her eyes.

"The real question is: Where is this easy target and big payday you promised me?" You inched closer to Wade with a look that could kill. You blew air in his ear and amplified the inaudible frequency so that it damn near scrambled his brain. He squalled like a crying child with colic and dropped his Starbucks cup, foam and syrup and what little actual coffee there was in it splattered on the hood of the car coating everyone in the sickly sweet liquid except for Domino, by some unfair miracle.

"That's just fucking great!" Cable said in annoyance as he used his free hand to wipe away the frothy foam that covered his chest. You did the same and licked some of the foam off your finger, all the guys ogled you like you were some damn peacock.

"Men!" Domino said in disgust. You giggled as the gleeful feeling of dominating power coursed through you.

"To answer your question, Carrie White," Wade was referring to you.

"Carrie had telekinetic powers, Mr Pool, wouldn't it make more sense to call her Abra Stone, I'm pretty sure if she tried DJ could generate an earthquake too?" Dopinder asked innocently.

"No, Dopinder, what would make more sense would be to call her Black Canary, but given as how that is a completely different comic book universe and the fact that whoever thought up DJ's powers was an unimaginative lout who couldn't think up something cooler than sound manipulation and also thought DJ was an intuitive play on words and abilities, no, I do not think it would be better to call her Abra Stone. Shockwave maybe... but that’s trdemarked by Hasbro, so," everyone looked at Deadpool in confusion. "Anyway! I'm pretty sure she'll show up any minu-" Deadpool was interrupted by the sound of his phone receiving a message.

"Whoops, Ha-ha, forgot to put that on vibrate," Wade wiggled his eyebrows which strained against the tight fabric of his mask, "Ah, it's Weasel, apparently Madam Mayflower… Pffft- Mayflower! Anyway, apparently, she's not coming. She's going somewhere else today. Oooh! It's a Burlesque Club!"

"Well, what's the fucking plan?" Cable asked showing signs of impatience for the first time.

Wade looked over at you, Cable and Domino, his eyebrows clearly raised in mischief behind his mask.

“Now Madonna, Cher and… The Jackson Five,” he pointed to each of you, assigning you with the corresponding singer’s name.

Domino rolled her eyes at being designated as the entire music group of the Jackson Five (it was no doubt a play on the fact she usually wore her hair in an afro).

Wade made sure he used his most diva emulating performance to sell his pitch, “Put on your favourite dancing shoes and wear your skimpiest outfit. Because ladies, we’re going to put on the best burlesque show of our lives!”

“Jesus,” Cable grumbled. You noticed he did that a lot. You wondered if it would ever stop being comical and turn annoying.

Domino raised her hand.

“Yes, Jackson Five?”

“Which 80′s singer are you in this scenario?”

“Why, the legendary Dolly Parton, of course!” Deadpool said gleefully

"What about me Mr Pool?" Dopinder asked feeling a little left out.

"You are Driving Miss Daisy, now common let's go," Wade walked in imaginary heels and sauntered like a runway model to the front seat in the cab.

"That's not even a singer," Dopinder said with a frown.

"Hey, at least you aren't given the title of an entire music group just because of your hair!" Domino said in deadpan.

"Nah, he just got stereotyped as a slow cab driver!" You chimed in before taking your seat in the middle of the cab.

Part Four is HERE!

MASTERPOST | For Tumblr App

As Always: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I got carried away with this one a little bit. Anyway, if you like this fun little series don’t hesitate to ask to be added to the tag list!!! Also, check out my READER WEEK challenge that will be held on the 27th, Open to all followers!!

Tags: @demonhunter1616  @msstarsword

Permanent Tags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet

[a-starr-ion]

What a Surprise!

Pairing - Poly! Hamilsquad x Reader

Request -  “ Poly!Hamilsquad x reader where the boys have been with the Reader for awhile and they see her as a sweet,kind,loving and shy girl and one day while the reader is out at the grocery store the boys are sitting around the living room talking and notice they don't really know much about her past and jokingly they look her up and they find out she used to be a pretty popular porn star before she meet them and maybe they watch her videos and see that she's wasn't always so shy” from an old lil’ Nonny :3

Summary - Knowing that she’s a kind. loving and friendly girl, the boys believe that she has always been like this. Though, when John said they don’t know much about her, they decided to try looking for more information. Soon they found out she used to be a porn star, but they couldn’t believe it. And so they ask her themselves.

“Where to now?” John asked, looking around the mall.

“Um…” (y/n) hummed, placing a finger on her lips as she tried to think. “Wh-Where do you guys want to go?”

“I’m fine wherever you guys want to go.” Alex shrugged.

“I’m just tired…” Laf complained.

“Same.” Herc scoffed.

“Well, let’s go to my house then!” (y/n) giggled. “Let’s grab some McDonald’s on the way too!”

“Sounds great!!” John laughed, prancing down the halls.

“Hey, wait up!!” (y/n) giggled, following him.

Once they got in (y/n)’s car, John sat in front instantly, Alex in between Herc and Laf at the back.

“So, home?” (y/n) asked, turning to everyone.

“Yeah.” Everyone replied in unison.

She giggled and nodded before driving off.

John looked out the window and took a few glances at everyone, Alex fell asleep on Laf’s shoulder, the Frenchman blushing softly, only for Herc to chuckle softly.

(y/n) took a few glances at them and smiled at their a-dork-ableness.

Soon enough, they made it to her house, John and Herc holding the McDonald’s for (y/n) as Laf carried Alex on his back.

“Oh, darn it!” (y/n) sighed heavily.

“What is it?” Everyone, except the sleeping Alexander, asked.

“I forgot to buy some groceries…” She sighed softly.

“We’ll go buy them!” John offered.

“No, it’s okay, it’s only a few things.” She chuckled softly. “I’ll be back soon enough; you guys can eat already!”

She then ran out of the house after waving goodbye at the boys.

Lafayette dropped Alexander on the couch, him proceeding to fall off the bed.

“OW, WHAT THE- OW…!!” He yelled in surprise, jolting up.

Hercules and John laughed at this as Lafayette shrugged with a small smirk on his face.

“We should play video games!” John smiled. “You know, while eating!”

“Me eating chicken nuggets while playing Mario Kart? Hell nah.” Herc scoffed, grabbing his box of nuggets.

“I can eat while playing that game.” Laf said, eating a French Fry. “It’s just—”

“CANNIBALISM!!” Alexander gasped, taking Laf’s fries away.

“EXCUSEZ-MOI?!” He exclaimed, taking them back. “These are mine!! What the hell do you mean by cannibalism?!”

“You’re the Frenchiest Fry here, Laf.” John giggled. “Didn’t you know that?”

Laf stared at them, offended and yet confused.

The four of them spent time bickering, eating, and soon began to play Just Dance.

“Y’know… Now that I think about this,” John spoke as he copied the steps being shown. “We don’t know much about (y/n)…”

“Oui, that’s actually true.” Laf nodded in agreement.

“Well, we can try to find something about her and her past.” Alex panted. “Shit, I’m getting tired…”

“Worth a shot.” Herc panted as well.

John paused the game and turned to the other three.

“We can look in her room.” He said. “It’s the place that is most likely to have a lot of secrets.”

“Then let’s go!” Alex grinned, going up the stairs.

The four of them went inside (y/n)’s room, and began their investigation.

Laf turned to her closet and smirked a bit.

“Laf, don’t you dare look inside that closet.” John said, digging inside the drawers of (y/n)’s desk.

“You don’t know, there could be a hidden box of some sort.” He scoffed, placing his hands on the handles of the closet.

“There could be some panties in there…” Alex added. “Oh, hell, wait, I take that back!!”

“That makes it even better~!” He laughed, opening the closet finally.

He blinked as he stared inside her closet. “There’s just dresses, shirts, pants, jackets, there’s no pant—oh, hey! A box on top, over there, on the shelf!”

He reached for it and chuckled. “Panties, my ass, Alexander.”

“Shut up, it was just a guess!” Alex scoffed, approaching him along with the other two.

“Oh, mon Dieu, its dusty.” Laf coughed, blowing the dust away.

He sat on the bed and was joined by the others.

“Listen,” he said, “anything can be in here. Diaries, old stuff, panties—”

“Enough with the panties, Laf!” Alex complained.

“You started it, you shush. Moving on, like I said, it can be anything. But we mustn’t let (y/n) know we went through her stuff without her permission.”

The three nodded as he waited for Laf to open the box.

Slowly, he removed the cover of the box and pulled it off finally.

Before the other three can lay their eyes on what was inside, Laf had put the cover back on.

“What the hell, Laf?!” Herc exclaimed. “Stop teasing us!”

“Non, it’s not that.” He croaked.

“Then what is it?!”

“Look at it at your own risk. Especially you, John.”

“Wait, what?” John exclaimed.

Herc snatched the box from the Frenchman’s hands and looked into it. “Oh… Oh…! Oh shit… Oh shit!”

“What?!” John asked. “What’s inside, Herc?!”

He glanced at John then at Alex. “Are you two innocent beans ready for this?”

“Alex?? Innocent, my ass.” Laf coughed loudly into his hands.

“Yeah, I am!” John nodded, confident and tough.

“So am I.” Alex scoffed. “Screw you, Laf.”

Herc nodded and lend the box to them, Alex lifting the lid and looked into it with John.

“Oh!!” John exclaimed, only for Alex to cover his eyes. “Oh, sh—”

“You innocent cinnamon roll, no.” Alex said, holding him close. “Don’t look.”

Laf grabbed the box once more and pulled out the magazines inside.

“Why does (y/n) have porn magazines?” He scoffed, glancing in some.

“Lemme see!!” Herc yelled, scooting next to Laf.

The two of them wolf-whistled as they opened a few, looking in them.

“Wait, this girl over here,” Herc mumbled, pointing at a (h/c)-haired girl in a rather tight one-piece swimsuit laying so naughtily by a pool. “She looks like… I’m not sure, but her face is familiar, come look.”

“Oui, that’s true…” Laf nodded in agreement.

“Are there boobs?” John asked, eyes still covered.

“Yes, because she’s a girl, but no, they’re covered.” Laf scoffed. “Now come look!!”

Alex let go of John and sat next to Laf, John next to Herc.

“Oh yeah, she does look familiar.” Alex nodded. “But why? I don’t even look or watch porn.”

“You jack off to Angelica, you little bastard.” Laf rolled his eyes. “What’s so messed up about porn?”

Herc and John’s eyes went wide as they stared at Alex.

He blushed deeply in embarrassment, looking away. “L-Let’s just try to find out who this is!”

Laf scoffed and stood up, taking one magazine. “My laptop’s downstairs, come on.”

He walked out of the room and pranced down the stairs.

Alex followed and kept quiet on the way down.

John and Herc exchanged looks, only for Hercules to shrug and leave the room.

“Wow, I have to keep the porn, huh?” John scoffed. “Ugh, fine…”

Once everyone was in the living room, surrounding Laf and his laptop, the Frenchman instantly looked up the girl’s name from the magazine.

“Whoo damn.” Hercules and Lafayette coughed. “Daaaaaaaaaamn…!!”

“Let’s just please get more information on her.” Alex sighed.

“Yeah, I’m curious!!” John nodded rapidly.

Laf nodded and clicked a few links and such, and soon the four did their research on her.

After a while, after a few “DAAAAAAAMNS!!!” from Herc and Laf and watching a few videos (“NO, JOHN!!” Alex yelled), they finally got enough information on her.

“So!” Alex cleared his throat. “Judging on the info we got, she shares a few similarities with someone we know, and that would be…!!”

The three other guys looked up at Alex and blinked. “Who…?”

“Any ideas?” Alex chuckled nervously. “’Cause I don’t have a clue.”

Laf groaned softly and snatched the notebook from Alex’s hands.

“Well, first off,” he coughed, “her birthday is on (your birthday), and she is currently (your age). Do we know anyone who has the same birthday and the same age?”

“That would be… (y/n)!” John spoke up, a grin on his face.

“Coincidence??” Hercules shrugged.

“Seems like it.” Alex nodded.

They nodded in agreement, until Alex’s eyebrow twitched.

“Oh, he got an idea.” Laf gasped. “What is it??”

“But, thinking about it… The girl in the magazine… Kind of looks like (y/n), somehow.” Alex hummed. “Do you guys think…??”

“Innocent, shy, quiet, kind and loving (y/n) as a porn star?” Hercules laughed awkwardly. “Hell no!!”

“It’s… So far!” John said. “I cannot imagine someone like her do something as naughty as that!”

“I agree.” Laf nodded, holding his chin between his thumb and index finger. “But… Alex is right. There’s no one else who we know…”

“So… Do you think that… (y/n)’s the girl…?” Alex gulped.

“Well—” Lafayette spoke, except the door’s lock began to unlock.

“WAIT!!” John yelled, panicking. “CLOSE THE TABS, LAF!!”

“Oh, OH MERDE!!” Laf panicked as well, his shaky hands trying to close all the tabs.

“ITS AN INCOGNITO TAB, JUST CLOSE THE DAMN THING!!” Herc yelled.

The boys continued arguing, Alex still deep in thought as he sat on the couch.

Finally, (y/n) came in with three bags of groceries. “Uhm… Guys?”

Laf stood on the couch, pulling the laptop away from Herc who was kneeling on the ground as John sat on his back, Alex casually sitting on the couch still.

“Hey, (y/n).” Lafayette coughed, jumping off the couch.

“Hey~?” John chuckled nervously, getting off Hercules.

“Ow, damn it. Hey, how you doing?” Hercules cleared his throat.

(y/n) stared at them and glanced at Alex, walking towards the kitchen and placed the groceries on the counter. “Alex, what happened…?”

“They found porn of you.” He replied with no emotion whatsoever.

“What?!” She exclaimed, dropping a few things.

“Yeah, I said what I said.” He said, glancing up at her. “Though, I’m not sure whether it is you or not. You go see.”

Immediately, she ran to Laf. “Show me!”

“But—” he mumbled.

“I need to see!!” She said, panicking.

He nodded and opened another incognito tab, going to the same website. Yes, he remembered.

He showed one video to her, and her eyes widened, her eyebrows rose and her jaw dropped. “Oh my God.”

“W-What is it…?” Herc asked softly.

She closed the tab quickly and sat on the couch, still having the same expression.

“So… Is it?” Laf asked softly.

“Laf, you can’t just ask a girl if they used to be a porn star!!” John gasped.

“No, no, its fine, John…” She sighed softly. “But, please, keep this a secret…”

“What?” The boys asked, leaning closer to her.

“Well, I used to be one.” She sighed. “I quit because I thought I wasn’t cut out for it.”

Their jaws dropped as they stared at her.

“Yeah, I know I don’t look like it, but it’s true.” She chuckled softly. “So, there you go.”

Alex choked out and exchanged looks with the others.

“Don’t tell anyone.” She said, sitting up properly. “Please, it would go wrong.”

“It’s a promise!” John nodded.

“Oui!” Laf nodded as well.

“Well, for the sake of your innocence, yes.” Herc chuckled.

“I-I… W-Well, I-I’m just surprised, but y-yeah!” Alex coughed.

“Good!” (y/n) sighed heavily. “Now, can you guys help me with the groceries?”

“Yeah!” John grinned, walking to the kitchen.

She followed along with Hercules.

Lafayette and Alexander glanced at each other.

“So, my guess was right.” Alex shrugged.

“Ture… And I like how they just… Forget about it.” Laf scoffed.

“We should too. Nothing ever happened.”

“Oui, oui.”

“Forget about the panties too.”

“You forget about them, you keep on bringing them up, Alex!”

“Because you could possibly take one!”

“Maybe you would!!”

“FORGET ABOUT THE PANTIES.”

“FORGET ABOUT ANGELICA AND MARIA, YOU SLUT.”

Alex blushed deeply and looked away. “Fine, you win.”

“Hell yeah I did.” Laf scoffed.

And so, they helped out as well.

[ongsniel]

[request] this love is difficult (but it’s real)

AUTHOR: ongniels (ali) FANDOM: WANNA ONE/Produce 101 RATING: PG-13 PAIRING: Lai Guanlin/Park Jihoon WORD COUNT: 5,4k WARNING: cursing SUMMARY: Guanlin knows he should be paying attention, or at least listening to the older boy, but all he can do is steal glances at Jihoon and wonder how to initiate some body contact, how to bring himself to reach out and take a hold of Jihoon’s hand.

Or: The three times Guanlin wants to initiate skinship with Jihoon but is too shy/nervous to do so and one time Jihoon notices and helps him out.

[AO3]

1.

It’s the first day in their new dorm and after having pigged out on all kinds of food to celebrate the occasion, all of the members are in the living room watching a movie.

Normally, not all of them would fit in the room, even less with all of them lying down, but Jisung had convinced them to sleep together since it was their first day in the dorm. That’s why they had dragged some of their mattresses into the living room and created a huge make shift bed.

As Guanlin glances around, two things catch his eyes.

The first thing he notices are actually two people.

Seongwoo and Daniel.

They are the only ones lying on the couch, Daniel’s arm tightly wrapped around Seongwoo’s waist as Seongwoo is sprawled all over Daniel. They are almost chest to chest, Seongwoo’s face hidden in the crook of Daniel’s neck.

Guanlin guesses he must have fallen asleep sometime during the movie.

The both of them look cute, Seongwoo’s face relaxed in his sleep, Daniel happily looking down at him with the softest of smiles.

The other thing that had caught his attention is actually Jihoon.

Said boy is lying right next to Guanlin with his lips in a smile and his eyes sparkling as one of the main characters cracks a joke.

They are lying closer to each other than they usually would.

Guanlin wants to reach out and tug on Jihoon’s arm until the boy understands and rests his head on Guanlin’s chest but just the thought of doing so makes his heart feel like it’s about to explode.

Still, Guanlin scoots even closer to Jihoon, carefully to do so without the other boy noticing.

When he glances at the other boy nervously, his heart beating so fast it might as well fall out of his chest. However, when he looks at Jihoon again, he is relieved to see that he is too focused on the movie to realize what Guanlin is doing.

The younger boy waits a few minutes before he tries to reach out for Jihoon’s shirt. He, painfully slowly, stretches out his hands towards Jihoon.

Every time his hand is only a millimeter nearer to the older boy, his stomach tightens in anxiety and his heartbeat gets faster without a real reason as to why. When his fingertips reach the soft fabric of Jihoon’s shirt, it feels like his skin is burning.

Guanlin backs his hand off immediately, wiggles away from Jihoon in a flash of panic and looks at his hand in surprise, trying to calm himself down.

***

“Guanlin?” Jihoon murmurs some minutes later, his hand caressing Guanlin’s forearm. ”Why are you so far away, suddenly?”

“Uhm, I just… I just felt too hot,” Guanlin replies, lump in his throat.

“Ah, okay,” the older boy nods, removing his hand from Guanlin.

As soon as Jihoon’s gentle fingers are gone from his skin, he wants to tell Jihoon to touch him again. But somehow, he can’t.

***

For the rest of the night, he sneaks some glances at Jihoon, his body itching to get closer and have Jihoon in his arms.

2.

“Jihoon, are you going to sit there all alone sulking for the rest of the day?” Jisung asks with a smirk.

The younger boy just sticks his tongue out and crosses his arms over his chest. Guanlin thinks it’s one of the cutest things he has ever seen as he smiles he moves forward and plops down beside Jihoon.

“Why are you sulking anyway?” Guanlin says.

“Because Jisung and Seongwoo are assholes,” Jihoon replies, making sure to be loud enough for both of the older boys to hear. “They were teasing me the whole time we were in the car because I made a tiny mistake.”

“Aw, how pitiful,” he laughs, his hand reaches out to pat Jihoon’s head but stops midway.

Just like the last time he had tried to touch Jihoon, his heart starts to speed up in his chest, thundering against his rib cage, a lump forming in his throat. His mouth, all of a sudden, feels dry and his skin is on fire.

He is aware that he’s probably blushing, too.

Thankfully Jihoon is too distracted by Jisung wiggling his eyebrows at him and Seongwoo sending hearts their way to notice Guanlin’s hand awkwardly hovering above his head.

Guanlin, for at least five minutes, stares at his hand, trying to find out why the hell he just couldn’t touch Jihoon without feeling like he is going to have a panic attack or without his brain shutting off just at the thought of doing so.

“You’re on my side, right Guanlin?” Jihoon snaps him out of his trance.

He looks at his hand again, then back at Jihoon and nods without thinking about it. Jihoon grins at him with the cutest of grins and taps him on the shoulder before running off to play fight with Seongwoo.

3.

Jihoon is so unbelievably close to Guanlin all he would need to do for Jihoon to be cuddling against his side is to inch just a centimeter closer.

***

They had filmed for their variety show today, luckily Jihoon and him had been paired together so they couldn’t be more than one meter away from each other. Jihoon had played well with him, admiring him for his basketball skills and joking around whenever he got the chance.

It had been a pretty good day, well, until now.

Before they go to sleep, the staff drops a bomb on them.

“You guys thought it was over, right?” the scriptwriter questions, a smirk on her face. “Well, surprise then, we told you in the morning, it’s twenty-four hours.”

“What?” Jisung yells, frown on his face.

“The day is not over yet, you need to sleep in the same bed with your partner,” she laughs when almost all of them groan, complaining about how they are too big for the single beds.

***

Guanlin knows for a fact Jihoon is not sleeping, not when his breathing is not stable yet and he tosses and turns beside him. He wants to stop the other, put a hand on his waist, tug him closer and feel Jihoon’s breathe tickle his neck.

He turns over to face Jihoon.

His eyes follow the slope of Jihoon’s nose, he looks at the other boy’s slightly parted lips and the way his chest rises and falls.

“You can’t feel asleep either, huh?” Guanlin murmurs, eyes fixed on Jihoon.

The older boy opens his eyes and smiles, moving around so that he now, too, is facing Guanlin. If the lights were on, Jihoon would have probably been able to see how Guanlin’s cheek slowly turn into a shade of red.

“Nope,” Jihoon laughs. “But I’m glad you can’t either.”

They stay silent after that, just looking and smiling at each other as if they weren’t wasting their precious sleeping time.

Jihoon moves a little bit closer to Guanlin then, saying something about how he is almost about to fall out of the bed and suddenly Guanlin feels like he can’t breathe because Jihoon’s arms and legs are carefully pressed against his, Jihoon’s mouth only a few inches away.

Guanlin feels the urge to close the gap between the two of them once again but his brain is failing him.  Thoughts like “Jihoon is so near, fuck” and “What should I do?” begin to pile up in his head and Guanlin can’t stop them, can’t control them like he wants to.

He just wants Jihoon to be closer, he can’t really comprehend why his body is making such a big deal out of it, why his heart goes insane just at the thought, why his hands stop moving and start to tremble from nervousness as soon as he tries to touch Jihoon, why a lump forms in his throat and his mouth feels dry when he thinks of asking Jihoon to come closer to him instead.

The next time he looks at Jihoon, the other boy is sleeping soundly, breathing evenly on Guanlin’s nose.  

+1.

Guanlin is so stressed and just, plainly said, frustrated with himself, for not even being able to be one meter away from Jihoon without his heart feeling like it will explode in a million of pieces, that on his free night off he doesn’t go to sleep.

Instead he steals the tablet from in between a sleeping Jaehwan’s hands, sits down on the couch in the living room and googles “how to stop being too shy to touch my friend? Boyfriend?”.

He clicks link after link, reading through all the tips – he even writes them down in a little notebook his mother had gifted him at least three years ago.

Guanlin is so focused on filtering out the good advices from the bad ones that he doesn’t even notice Jihoon and Daniel, who had both just gotten back from an individual schedule, sitting down beside him.

“What are you doing?” Daniel inquires while peeking at the tablet.

Guanlin is so startled he almost throws the electronic device across the room. Thank God though, he doesn’t, instead he hugs it tightly into his chest and mutters a “nothing” underneath his breathe before standing up and closing the incognito tab he had open.

“Where you looking up girl group performances?” Jihoon wiggles his eyebrows.

The younger boy just frowns at him and shakes his head. He puts the tablet down on the armrest of the couch and sits back down, this time though, he sits only next to Jihoon.

Daniel, thankfully, breaks the silence by telling Guanlin every single detail of how the shooting for “Let’s Eat Dinner” went, he tells him about how they had to stop the shooting because of the rain and how a lot of fans ended up crowding them, Kang Hodong even complimenting them for their huge popularity.  

Guanlin knows he should be paying attention, or at least listening to the older boy, but all he can do is steal glances at Jihoon and wonder how to initiate some body contact, how to bring himself to reach out and take a hold of Jihoon’s hand.

He scoots closer to Jihoon, nodding his head and looking at Daniel for a second.

Now that the side of his legs are pressed against Jihoon’s, his heart is doing that weird thing, where it begins to hammer in his chest, again. It feels like it’s taking part in a race to find out how fast it can be before Guanlin has a heart attack.

Nonetheless he keeps this legs were they are, adverting his gaze from his legs and looking up at Daniel, who is wildly gesturing around and teasing Jihoon about how he had been able to eat first.

He rises his hand from where it’s resting on his lap and slowly moves it so that it’s nearer to Jihoon’s own.

When he is about to finally hold onto the other’s hand, he feels that same strange sensation in his stomach – Guanlin knows people would describe them as butterflies from excitement or something like that but for him, they feel weird, make him feel anxious and afraid, make him question all that he’s doing.

Guanlin sighs.

He retracts his hand again, puts it back on his lap and fidgets nervously with his fingers.

Suddenly though, Jihoon’s hand is on his.

It’s warm and soft and all that Guanlin had imagined it would be. He looks up at Jihoon, gaping and completely ignoring the way Daniel stops and looks at their hands with a knowing grin for a moment before he continues talking.

Jihoon only winks at him and then goes back to listening to Daniel.

Although the older boy is not looking at him, he interlocks their fingers together and strokes the back of Guanlin’s hand with his thumb in relaxing, circular motions.

Guanlin’s heart still feels like it’s running a marathon, the butterflies in his stomach are still there too, but somehow, they feel nicer, make him feel giddy instead of angsty.

The feeling Guanlin has now is one he wants to capture in a bottle and let free when he is feeling down.

He looks at their intertwined hands, a blush on his face, and smiles.

***

“Daniel…” Seongwoo whines, still half-asleep, and rubs his eyes with one hand. “Come to bed, you have an early schedule tomorrow.”

Guanlin, Jihoon and Daniel all simultaneously turn around and look at Seongwoo, all of them startled by the sudden appearance of the older boy.

Of course, Daniel is the first to snap out of it, standing up while laughing and making baby noises.

“Aw, look how cute you are when you are worried about me and half-asleep,” he says when he brings Seongwoo closer for a hug and kisses the other boy’s temple lovingly.

Guanlin feels kind of jealous while watching both of the older boys disappear into their room. He wants to be like that too, wants skinship to come as easily to him as it comes to them, wishes he could hug Jihoon just like that as well.

“Let’s go to sleep, too,” Jihoon says, snapping Guanlin out from his thoughts.

He nods, smiling when he notices Jihoon hadn’t let go from his hand, and walks over to their door. When they open it, they realize none of their members are sleeping – Woojin playing games with one of their other tablets, Minhyun typing speedily on his phone and Jaehwan listening to music in his bed.

None of them notice them though, too concentrated on what they are doing.

Jihoon leads them to Guanlin’s bed, lying down unceremoniously and tugging on Guanlin’s hand until the younger boy is also lying in the bed. He gets the blanket from the bottom of the furniture and drapes it all over the both of them.

“It’s warm,” Guanlin mutters. “Just like your hand.”

“Is that a good thing?” Jihoon asks with a grin.

“Yes,” he answers, nodding and squeezing the other’s hand. “I have been wondering for a while how it would feel like to hold hands with you.”

As soon as the words come out of his mouth, he wants to slam his head into the nearest wall because shit, this is the most embarrassing moment in his life.

Jihoon, though, doesn’t laugh at him, nor does he tease him.

“I know,” the older boy acknowledges.

Guanlin doesn’t know how to reply to that, so he doesn’t. He, however, does try to stop his face from getting even redder than it already.

“If you were wondering, I was curious, too,” Jihoon says a few minutes later.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” the older sighs and turns to face Guanlin. “I was wondering how cuddling would feel like with you, too. Do you remember the first night at the dorm? All I could think about was how it would be like to snuggle with you.”

“Me too!” Guanlin exclaims excitedly, unconsciously scooting closer to Jihoon. “I tried to… but I would always get so nervous whenever I was close to touching you.”

“Well,” Guanlin follows the way Jihoon’s tongue moves to swipe over the other’s lip. “Can we cuddle now then? I mean, if we both want to know what it feels like… we should try it out, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” he nods.

Jihoon smiles.

He happily takes a hold of Guanlin’s arm and stretches it out, then he lets his head rest on it. Guanlin reciprocates the older boy’s touch by slinging an arm around Jihoon’s waist and pulling him closer. Jihoon giggles into the skin of Guanlin’s neck, his breath tickling it and making a shiver run down Guanlin’s spine.

***

“We should…” Jihoon sleepily grins at him from where he is still probed on Guanlin’s arm the next day. “Cuddle more often. It makes me sleep so much better.”

Guanlin laughs, his hand coming up to pat Jihoon’s head lovingly, when it stops midway and his heart starts thundering in his chest, Jihoon is there to take a hold of it and put it on his head himself. Guanlin snorts but still proceeds to caress Jihoon’s hair softly, smiling at the way Jihoon’s eyes close in contentment.

“Let’s do this every day now,” Guanlin suggests, scooting closer to Jihoon and, after hesitating for a second, placing a kiss on Jihoon’s forehead.

“Okay,” Jihoon agrees.

He surges up and, instead of how Guanlin had kissed him on the forehead, pecks Guanlin on the lips sweetly before he lays back down with a soft, small, shy smile on his face.