#IM BROKE ON ARTIFACTS HELP

[bambooshuohuop]

i'm a genshin player,

of course I continue to upgrade an artifact that keeps upgrading the HP substat hoping that it'll go to the surrounding good substats in the next upgrade.

HBU??????,,

[wrightingdungeon]

BG3 Companion's reactions to Tav being much younger than they thought

Trying out a new format kinda, let me know if it works, please

Lae’zel is the baby at 20/23 ish but for this Tav is around age 16/17 making them the baby 

Astarion: He didn't really care to know your age when you first met, but as you ventured forth he could tell you where inexperienced, an amazing leader, but you had no idea what you were doing. “How long have you been doing this, adventuring this darling?” He asked watching as you tried in vain to unlock a chest. “Oh well… Im only sixteen so not that long? When we met up really.” He stared into space for a moment, taking in his fearless leader, who was in fact a child. “Well thats… reassuring?” He said carefully moving you to the side so he could pick the lock for you. 

Trust me you wouldn't live down the. “Does the baby need help?” Jokes

No one is getting within arm's length of you though

#his baby *cough* his meal ticket *cough, cough*

Gale: The poor guy has a lot on his mind *and in it*. Forgive him that he really didn't think about figuring out how old you are. “Gale how old were you when you found out you could use magic?” Gale looked up at you watching you playing around with Minor Illusion. “I was about seventeen when Mystra first contacted me.” He said thinking for a moment. “Ohhh that means I’ll be a better wizard than you!” He chuckled hearing You tease him. “You can't be that young.” He jested, his face deadpanning when you admitted you were almost seventeen. 

Giving him PTSD from when he first met Mystra

He feeds you first 

Feels so guilty about you going to get him magical artifacts

Halsin:  Oh he knew, He is over three hundred but he ain't dumb. When you broke him out of Jail he was protective of you, seeing a kid leading and protecting a group of adults broke his heart. “Tav, please rest.” He said softly as he let you sit down. “I have the watch tonight, please get some sleep.” He’s a papa bear. You get hurt, he's there. Can't reach something? Halsins is helping lift you up. He lets you have your respect as a leader but he is always there to be a shoulder to lean on or your own personal Jiminy cricket. 

Guard Dog privileges

Will let you sleep on him

Will not let you in the sheresses caress

Jaheira: Mama knew, when you first pulled up to Last Light she swore she saw one of her kids running up to her. “Cub have you eaten?” She’s already going mama mode seeing you haven't slept or eaten. She tears Halsin a new one for not helping you more with Art Cullagh. After the Last Light is attacked and you are standing by her side helping protect her people she feels proud of the next generation and those who are leading it.

She licks her thumb and cleans your face without thinking of it

Teaches you how to haggle

Feels so sorry for you and the trials you must face

Karlach: The baby girl had no idea, she just knows it's fun to rage with you. During a particularly deep rage section, she was surprised when you started to cry. “Soldier?” She asks having to stop herself from hugging and burning you. “I-I’m just scared Karlach.” She listened to you feeling her own tears forming. “I’m not even eighteen, but… Everyone depends on me.” Gods she wanted to hug you, she was raging for you, and because she couldn't hug you. 

She works 10x harder to cool down her heart, not just for her, but so she can hold you

Lets you hug Clive as long as you need

Knows how you feel from being shoved into Zariel’s arms at age fifteen

Lae’zel: She doesn't care, You are old enough to hold a sword. In fact your young age and leadership skills just makes her impressed. “I will help train you to fight like a true warrior, not like the teeth-ling.” She does in fact start training you. Dear gods save you, shes got you running laps before the sun comes up.

Proud older sister

Has her own special *violent* way for praising you

Talks about when shes a general of Vlakith and you will be her right-hand

Shadowheart: She and Lae’zel were at each other's throats again when you blew up at them. “You two are fighting like teenagers! And I’m sixteen!” She felt like she got hit by a bag of bricks, you were sixteen, but you had pulled her from the nautiloid, and fought with her out of the hells. “You can't be sixteen.” She said chuckling softly in disbelief, hearing you confirm when you were born she definitely needed some wine to get over that.

Don't know how to act around you

Will give you little candies

Mom said I have to take you with me vibes

Wyll: He found out talking about his pact with you. “Yes, I was seventeen when I signed my pact, but I do not regret it.” He said taking a drink from his goblet. “Man I'm almost seventeen, I wonder what I’ll be like when I'm your age.” Have you ever seen someone shoot wine out their nose? Now you have.

Gets very protective when Mizora shows up

Big brother mode

Piggy back rides when you are tired

[divijohm]

hewo :333

ok im joking I dont type like that( seriously) anyways im an anon!! I rllyyy want some ben drowned w a fem!siren or like a mermaid reader headcanons. I dont know how theyd meet but maybe like some cool water cave thingy in the forest and he was like exploring or smth and found her. idk

btw I LOVER YOUR WRITING AND IF THIS IS HARD OF CONFUSING IGNORE IT :3333

BEN and the Siren (reader)

A/n: HEWOO :33 Relax here is a safe space you can type whatever you want just be respectful. :3 hope you like it!!

🎮 BEN, much to his despair, was sent to explore a cave full of water to get some artifacts for slender. Everything was going well until a rock beneath him broke and he fell down into a particularly deep pond

🎮 By coincidence, you were swimming there and decided to save the poor thing, little mermaid style. As this poor boy can't swim he passed out almost drowning, and he was knocked out for long enough to you ponder if you should introduce yourself or not

🎮 He woke up on full fear getting up on his feet and preparing to fight, he's terrified of water after all. You laughed, and that's when he noticed you.

🎮 After you calmed him down a little bit, you explained what happened and introduce yourself.

🎮 Listen, this boy is one of the quickest of the pastas to fall in and out of love, he has a lot of "crushs" that last a week or less. So he was already getting head over heels for you just because you saved him.

🎮 You helped him get the rest of the artifacts and chatted while doing it.

🎮 after all of that he asked if he could see you again, you agreed and decided to meet up in a beach that was close to the mansion

🎮 when you meet the second time, he introduced you to videogames, as a siren you weren't used to tech.

🎮 You loved it and both of you spent almost all day playing.

🎮 You'll mostly play Stardew valley, Raft and Minecraft when together :3

🎮 phisical contact between you is a bit complicated. You don't have a human form so you're always in water or super wet and this boy has aquaphobia. You made it work by him toughen up to water a little bit and you drying your self up to touch him

🎮 He loves your company and started associating water with you. He still has a phobia and you wasn't curing it out of the power of love but he is less frightened by the sight of it

🎮 You tried to use your siren powers to lure him to the water (with his consent) to try and make his phobia a little less intense. It didn't work, as soon as he felt the water on his ankles he Snapped out of it and run back to the land. But progress is progress.

🎮 you both always meet outside the mansion, but he's secretly working on a aquarium type of thing to bring you to the mansion and/or another places that don't have a body of water.

🎮 When he gave this aquarium thing to you, you were a bit skeptical because what if he trapped you forever? But he didn't, you love going out with him in your aquarium now

🎮 You can control if your singing is magic or not. Nonetheless BEN loves hearing it.

[imjustabeanie]

hi! I was curious if you could do a hazbin hotel match up? <3

I go by she/they. im pansexual, im not too picky. I'm originally from Guatemala but was adopted to America! I have dark brown eyes with gold rimmed glasses with peircings; nose stud and septum. Im also a bit on the bigger side like mid size, im super insecure about it due to family problems making it worse. im getting bette with it though! I'm a Pisces and an infp. When first meeting me I'm normally shy and keep to myself and I've been told I look mean since of my resting face but trust I'm the silliest person you have ever met. when getting close; I love to joke around and I tend to be rude and "out of pocket " with my humor. (think of like smiling friends or oneyplays for reference) I love helping others if it be medically or just listening. speaking of medical; I'm almost done with schooling to get my EMT certification! I've always wanted to help someone every since I was a child. since I chose this field I am a real stickler for anatomy and physiology, with that being said I like to point out mistakes in movies which can get super annoying but it's something I love to do. another thing I love is the elder scrolls series! I love the real life inspo it's taken for the game universe, plus I love the medival vibe it has. I also love history such as artifacts from the past, historical texts, and medical practices back then. I'm a huge horror fan as well; scream, thanksgiving, SAW, Halloween, the omen. I love the classics! I also love crime cases too. I also love music,my favorites being malice mizer, gulu gulu, nirvana , ice nine kills, korn,slaughter to prevail and powerwolf! I like gothic type clothing but I normally dress in a baggy shirt and jeans so I feel out of place lol. I'm not the super touchy type (depends on the mood) because it gives me the ick. I'm more of acts of service and quality time type of lover.

I hope this is enough information! I love your writing < 3

Your hazbin hotel match is...Husk!

Your runner up is Lucifer but I eventually settled for husk.

Husk is an understanding lover who tends to be rude at first and takes time to warm up. But when he does he really cares about you in his own way.

On the outside, people really wonder how 2 individuals with an RBF got together. While in reality you two are an exemple of grumpy x sunshine. You're silly and he secretely loves it. It can be seen in the way he looks at you when you do your things. He even broke a glass once cuz he was watching you. Angel never let him forget that. Husk actually likes your jokes and always add a little comment of his own. He's also funny but in a sarcatic way if it makes sense. His humor also tends to be dark.

Husk is really proud of you for wanting to help people and for choosing your field. In his entourage, he is surrounded by selfish people (besides charlie and vaggie but they're recent and an exception). To him you're the sole light in his dark world. He always has your back, supporting you the best he can by making your life easier (he keeps the house relatively clean etc).

You two always have quiet date nights at home. He enjoys watching horror movies with you and probably has some nice horror recommendations but they're books. Those dates also include a dinner made by him or the both of you. He shows off by making some dishes only made in his time lol but you're the queen of snacks he admits it. He makes some very good cocktails for the both of you and the nights is spent watching movies and having talks that rabge from serious ones to silly talks that make him sigh lovingly.

He doesn't mind that you're not a big fan of touch and respects that. Overall he's a rough boyfriend but still very caring. He'll do his best to make you feel loved despite his flaws

[auspex]

4. A character you rarely talk about? 13. Do you have any troublemaker OCs?

HAHA I Uhhh only have 2 OCs (other than some storyteller characters). I talk about porphyria way less cause there is less mystery and angst with her hm. I guess i could talk about a former STC that i used in my hunter game.

Her name was Didi. She's a thinblood daywalker who was, i forgot the word, but a doctor who worked with blood. she was targeted for ghouldom and was a ghoul for awhile. Then, her sire was stupid, almost got her killed and broke the masquerade, and turned her in a panic.

Well, her sire's sire didnt like that, and her sire was ashed. Her grandsire became her adoptive sire because she was a pushover and very helpful.

With her help the Camarilla in the city have a very deep control of the blood bank system. She is good at blood alchemy specifically for preserving blood and she is able to make blood bonds too, so she has her own ghoul.

Her grandsire then had his own fuckup by letting a tremere experiment escape. It was intended to be able to track blood resonances so she had helped with it. She got saddled with tracking it down.

The hunter cell was intended to make some sort of deal with her for assistance, but they were.. more anti vamp than expected and she got tortured and killed OOF.

She had a more demure personality except once you got close to her, she got kind of mean. Her touchstone was her mother; the cell tortured her location out of her (OUCHIES) and sent her flowers lkdsafksjdf -

Porphyria is the troublemaker, due to her hastiness, and her confidence that she can fix any mistakes that may happen. It's gotten her into trouble for sure... lethal damage and being cut off from magic, for example, by ignoring warning signs and picking up a dangerous artifact... more to come im sure, we are still early game. I love her sm. Foolish but Competent Acanthus mages rule.

[sillymoonboi]

Time Keeper: fine I will but if you do harm them after I bring them I will be facing consequences

Uni: *in sign language* wait if your telling the truth were you going to do the same with Pluto and ceres

*time keeper starts looking for gia*

Chaos: also tall purple lady I don't need therapy (me and chaos relate so much with refusing to go to therapy)

Galaxy:WAIT JUST A WARNING,GAIA HAS VINE POWERS SO SHE MIGHT INTEND TO STAB , OR THROW YOU WITH HER VINES- andddddd he’s gone, man time keeper is fast-

Anyways uni i understand what your trying to say , and i agree with it, and i tried it and the things ceres and pluto said to me probably black hole told them- and about you uni-, were just- words I can’t describe how disrespectful they were-, but anyways i wanted to help them heal and let their soul rest in peace- but because of black hole he kinda put a magical shield on them that wouldn’t let me touch them- i know people will think i was the reason why pluto is not in the planet council anymore- but im not in charge of it- i only protect the council but the choosing who can be apart of the council is up to solar sun (from the planets dimension) and the older planets. Plus there was a tie between pluto and earth , and earth won the vote.

And chaos , its not nice to call people nicknames- i have a name you know. I’ll let this one slide , and its good to go to therapy, i went there once when massive paperworks were thrown on me because one of the astrals broke a VERY- expensive artifact from us - and of course the consequences were thrown on me yippee….-

[scoutbot]

h. paradox

pronouns: it/its

setting: loathing games

story: h. paradox is the result of the shadowcaster taking the artifacts from the merging of two universes, wrapping them up in strangely-proportioned humanoid form, and gluing them together with a soul and the vague idea of a pig skinner. now, for whatever the shadow caster needed paradox for, it needed to have free will, and thus not inherently be of the shadow. so, when paradox came into consious existence in a back alley, it had two directives in its mind - cause harm and become shadow corrupted. before it could do any of these things, it was found by problem bandersnatch, who adopted this clearly new to existing thing like a stray cat and made it come with him and my other shadows over loathing character on their quest. it quickly found that disobeying its directive and helping people felt good and decided to willingly help problem on his quest.

chaos anon

pronouns: they/it

setting: its complicated

story: chaos anon was born when arcanist anon, an anon dedicated to uncovering the secrets of the multiverse and kthaw'keth, a great old one fucked. unfortunately, just as chaos was born, the knights of azazel, who didnt like what arcanist was doing, broke into her apartment. the infant anon had to be teleported far away, to the middle of the woods on a different planet. due to their eldritch nature, the young anon was able to sustain themself within hours of birth, spending much of the first ~20 years of their existence living in the woods and eating squirrels and chickens from nearby farms. eventually, it became bored of this and, using its newly discovered powers, began causing chaos around the universe. blog history happened and, for a while, chaos was surrounded by other anons. but then everyone vanished, leaving chaos alone. im not sure what happens after that

[leeyanyanyaaan]

i keep putting off ascending my worlds whenever i play mainly bc im too lazy and don't want to have to farm for materials and get serious LOL and i end up only doing it once i have nothing to do (as in finishing main story chapters, not having any story keys left, no world quests)

and every time i clear the ascension in the end bc of how much stacked exp i have its ALWAYS reaching the cap limit of AR and asking me to do the ascension quest again TwT

pls i went from ar 35 to 45 to 50 and even then i still have so much exp left hELP

sigh.... welp. now i gotta start properly farming for artifacts ig :") and researching too, bc i am TERRIBLE at character building in any game. ALSO IM SO BROKE RN IS THIS HOW ZHONGLI FEELS

but at least im starting to enjoy genshin now thanks to being able to play it on ps5 😊💕 *forever remembers that i configured the controls to kh bc it trips me up if i play any other game* **X FOR ATTACK X FOR ATTACK**

[deescreamsintotheabyss]

idk what im doing but i have brainrot so,, and im sAD !!

warnings: idk general sagau stuff,,?? yandere-ish?? implied suicide attempt, implied suicide ideation,

characters: albedo (mentioned a few times), everyone else is pretty vague bc different people different team comps and mains!

they knew.

they knew that whoever was using them as vessels wasn't The Creator and at first, the thought made them resent whoever it was. they weren't puppets, made to do someone's bidding for Their entertainment! everything they went through, all the blood, sweat, and tears, just for someone's fickle whims? no.

but then..

whoever it was helped them. through the usage of vessels, They helped save nations in teyvat, favoured vessels were given massive boosts in power, new shiny weapons and artifacts. surely This Being couldn't be all that bad?

albedo was one of the favoured vessels, and he so desperately tried to find a way to connect to Them. they all knew they were mere characters in a game yet they yearned to thank Them, this benevolent force who strengthened them, helped them with problems and brought peace to the nations.

and he did. he found a way to slowly break through whatever barrier was between their worlds and they could now hear soft words in the wind everytime a vessel was used, soft apologies everytime they got hurt, cheers and encouragement when fighting.

a pedestal was made in honour of this nameless, featureless being, just a slab of the most finest ores in each nation, a way to give offerings and prayers. until one day they noticed, words started being etched across the stone the more the barrier between worlds was weakened.

《 (Name) 》

《 this game made me broke asf 》

they werent sure what "asf" meant but they understood that This Being needed money and so, bags and chests and heaps and piles of mora were left as offerings, just so Their gaze wouldn't leave them.

but it wasn't enough.

one day, They just... left. no more vessels being used, no more whispered words in the wind. They were just gone.

the many chosen vessels had realised and understood the time difference between their worlds but this one day was a single day in Their world. where could They have gone?

they rushed to the pedestals in their corresponding nations and stared in horror at the new words etched on stone.

《 (Name) 》

《 everyday i wake, i wish it was my last 》

no.. They couldn't have.. right? right? they prayed, they begged for The Being's gaze to return, for them to be unharmed but one day turned to two, turned to a week, turned to a month and they were starting to lose all hope.

the most favoured vessels, the ones used the most, were all utterly devastated. how could this be? how could they have helped? perhaps if they had "come home" earlier and easier?

albedo started blaming himself, perhaps if he found a way to get through the barrier faster he could've done something, anything. maybe this wouldn't have happened if he were more successful at his attempts to bridge a way between their worlds.

one month in Their world, was a long, long time for the people of teyvat.

and then a cry was heard, because the vessels felt a brief brush of Their presence and the words on the pedestal changed.

《 (Name) 》

《 lmao cant even kms properly 》

and they didnt understand what "kms" meant, they were just happy that They were back, even for a short fleeting moment. Their presence came and went, fleeting brushes with semi-absences in-between but They were there! and that was all that mattered.

perhaps if albedo managed to bring Them over, they'd ask what "kms" meant but please.. don't leave them for so long like that again.

a/n: pretty self-indulgent, this is kinda depressing, iykyk right haha,, anyway first fic!! and its sagau lmao im the biggest clown

[refiwrites]

By Chance

Pairing: Layla el Faouly x Fem! Sekhmet's avatar! Reader

Requested?: Yes

Summary: Being the avatar of Sekhmet, the goddess of war and healing, (Y/N) knew about Harrow’s plan and was on the progress of stopping him, but she didn’t expect to be running into another avatar and an old friend... Or ex.

Word count: 3.6k

Warning/s: violence, mentions of injury, sprinkle of angst and jealousy(?), swearing, if im missing something lmk!

Note: OKAY HEADS UP please don't judge my drawing I literally don't draw 😭 so yeah I've done a bit of researching and tried to make an armor that (i think!) would suit Sekhmet's avatar and I went and made these, so that's the armor I'm going with visualising throughout the story so I hope it helps if you're confused! feedbacks, likes, and reblogs are appreciated. let me know what you think!

GIF is mine! Let's begin!

Being the avatar of Sekhmet, the goddess of war and healing, (Y/N) knew about Harrow’s plan and was on the progress of stopping him, but she didn’t expect to be running into another avatar and an old friend... Or ex.

Hopping out of the boat carrying the new information in her head, (Y/N) shoves her hands in her pockets, reaching Anton Mogart’s place.

“You’re quick to get here, on the hurry?” Bek welcomes her as (Y/N) smirks. “You know I’m never late, Bek.”

“Always the punctual one.” He said. “You’re not about to be the only one here tonight., I’ve heard Layla was coming too.”

Oh?

This was new, what would she want with an already sold sarcophagus? Not like she’d be able to steal it and sold it like she does. Now, this was going to be a complicated night.

As for (Y/N), Layla was her old flame. Meeting once in an auction for a special artifact, the two built a thick tension in the air as they fought to raise the bid, not wanting to give the artifact to the other and vice versa.

Though in the end, the artifact went to–

(Y/N)’s hands. Layla was... disappointed to say the least, throwing glares at her as (Y/N) playfully teased her about her own victory.

But that disappointment soon turned to shock as (Y/N) offered Layla to have a drink with her as (Y/N) was captivated by her entirely, not just because of how elegant and fierce she looked; it was also the way she refused to back down. And that ignited a spark in her.

A drink turned to a one too many, then (Y/N) found herself kissing her. She tasted sweet, maybe it was because of the alcohol, or maybe it’s the way her perfume stuck to her like a tattoo.

Who knew just from that night could bloom such an interesting relationship?

The two then became acquainted with one another, founding themselves having lunch together whenever they could, or (Y/N) taking her to some fancy restaurant for dinner.

It went on for almost a year and a half, but their bond was just too good to be true.

(Y/N) almost forgot the reason why they broke up, maybe it was from the sudden long distance they had to do with regarding their job, or was it that they progressively didn’t have time for each other as Sekhmet got in the way?

But one thing’s for sure. (Y/N) never really moved on and Sekhmet knew that.

As she reminisced, she didn’t notice Bek waiting for her response as he stared at her. “Sorry, what’s that again?”

“I said how’s life for you now? Still bidding on the black market?”

She shakes her head, ridding it of Layla as she responded, crossing her arms, her odd ring on her hand glinting under the bright lights.

“It never stops, does it?” She asked. “Probably could build a whole museum for those artifacts you’ve got, huh?” He chuckled. “Hmm. I might.” She joked along.

Bek nods before looking at (Y/N). “Mr. Mogart will be with you shortly, excuse me.”

As Bek left her for a few minutes, she watched as Anton played in his backyard as horses ran around, spraying sand.

‘He’s taking too long, we need to move fast’ You turn and see Sekhmet in all her glory, holding her scepter, a couple feet taller than you in her red dress armor, her head took in a form of a lioness, her eyes in slits.

“Do you suggest we just straight up steal it? “ (Y/N) sarcastically said, eyes glued to Anton who was smirking as he blocked a hit.

She could feel Sekhmet’s eyes on her as Sekhmet let out a scoff of annoyance. ‘I just might’

“No, we’re not going to do that.” (Y/N) glanced back at her for a second as she turned back.

‘Well, well, look at what we have here’ Sekhmet suddenly said, interest filling her honeyed voice.

(Y/N) raises her eyebrows then she decided to look back again, and she could feel her heart jump out of its place.

There she was, Layla, smiling and greeting Bek. Her eyes were also quick to catch the man behind her. (Y/N) knitted her eyebrows together, she couldn’t place her finger on it, but she noticed how he stared at her. ‘My, my, is that who I think it is?’

“She’s here...” (Y/N) said under her breath. It didn’t seem like much time had passed, Layla still looked beautiful with her hair tied up, a beautiful gold accessory hung around her neck as she smiled.

“Just in time, Layla.” Bek greeted, shaking her hand. “I’ve got someone who also seems to be interested in what you’re looking for.” Bek said, jerking his head to the side as Layla looked.

Her eyes almost popped out of their sockets as her eyes widened. Thankfully, you were looking away, she found herself turning back around, looking down, pulling a few strands of her hair to hide half of her face. “Why is she…” Layla sighs. She certainly wasn’t expecting you at this time.

“Yeah, I see that.” Layla breathed out, managing to restore her composure. “Alright, Mr. Mogart will attend to you soon, for the while, why don’t you go up the side and watch?” Bek suggested before nodding and walking away.

“No, no, that’s the least I want to do right now.” Layla said, shaking her head. “Why? What’s wrong? Who’s she?” Marc asked, staring at the person watching the game. “It’s a long story.” Layla said, rubbing her temples. “Guessing you know her?” He spoke.

“Yeah, Yes, I do. Let’s just say we go way back.” She answered.

A few moments passed, before Bek approached them again, smiling. “Mr. Mogart will see you now, come.”

Layla and Marc looked at each other, nodding before sticking to their alibi.

Just as they were about to walk in, (Y/N) was already inside, talking with Anton.

“Pleasure seeing you here.” Anton said, giving her a smile, shaking her hand. “Cut the formalities, Anton, it’s not like we haven’t seen each other before.” She laughed, until two people drew closer from her peripheral vision.

“Layla, nice to see you here.” Anton turned to Layla, greeting her before pausing, looking at Layla and her. “Hold on,” Anton was about to say something when (Y/N) gave him a sharp glare, a slight shake of her head, Anton nods knowingly. Layla caught the interaction; it was enough to make her palms sweaty and had her biting the inside of her cheek. She wipes her palms on her pants before shaking Anton’s hand. “Yeah, thank you for meeting us on such short notice.”

“No problem,” he says, turning around. “Come with me.”

Doing what you were told, you walk upon a lit pyramid whilst listening to Anton speak about his love for collecting historic things, inside held Senfu’s sarcophagus.

“Now, why the sudden interest in this?” He asked, turning to face all of you again.

“Mm…I think it would look nice in my property.” (Y/N) joked, shifting her weight to the other leg, chuckling. Anton shakes his head, before turning to Layla.

Layla, however, had her eyes on (Y/N), but she glanced at Marc, and at Anton. “We thought-“ Anton cut her off, raising a hand and pointing at Marc. “Wanna hear it from your husband.”

Husband?!

(Y/N) blinked a few too times rapidly, looking at them.

‘Oh, this is good’ Sekhmet appeared from the side.

Since when did Layla get a husband?

‘Hold on, I recognize that man,’ Sekhmet says, tilting her lioness head at Marc.

“Well who’s he..?” (Y/N) whispered as the man tried to explain his reason. ‘Khonshu’s avatar, Marc’

Her expression morphed into a surprised one. Khonshu was here as well? “How’d- what is he even doing here?” Sekhmet gripped her staff before responding, ‘It’s one of two scenarios, either they’re an accomplice or they want to stop Harrow’

“Can- can we just take a look inside?” Layla said, saving Marc. Anton looked at her, skeptical. Bek also approached, staring weirdly at them. “I’ll want to take a look as well.” (Y/N) piped up, making everyone look at her. “What? Can’t I look with them?”

Anton shakes his head, moving to the side and extending his arm. “Be my guest.”

All three nod in thanks, then they went inside.

(Y/N) stared at Layla and Marc as they whispered to one another, but she can just make out a few words as they subtly trace the texts on the sarcophagus.

“Okay, so what’s happening here?” She asked.

Layla and Marc stared at her. “It’s… a long story, I think Sekhmet would understand.”

She tilted her head, hoping there was more time for them to inspect the sarcophagus. “Tell me.”

In that timeframe, Layla somehow managed to say everything in a summarized form, but she still didn’t say anything about Marc, which (Y/N) made a mental note of, but she did say he was Khonshu’s avatar. Now, (Y/N) was proven the point that they wanted to stop Harrow, and what was her original idea, she found herself teaming up with them.

“Alright,” Marc looked at (Y/N) and at Layla. “I gotta talk to Steven, buy me some time?”

Layla nods, looking at (Y/N) for her confirmation. She nods, confused but nonetheless following, Layla and (Y/N) left the pyramid, meeting back with Anton and Bek.

“Surprising to see you guys not together anymore.” Anton spoke.

(Y/N) and Layla glanced at each other. Yeah, it was a while. But tonight had reminded (Y/N) of how she missed Layla, it hadn’t occurred yet until Layla talked with her inside the pyramid a few moments ago, a rush of overwhelming feelings suddenly flooded her, but (Y/N) knew now wasn’t the time to get distracted, although she still longed for her.

Unbeknownst to (Y/N), Layla missed her and felt the same as well, there was nothing wrong with it since she made up her mind with Marc, finish the mission then they can go their separate ways. But it was different with (Y/N).

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Layla spoke, smiling, efficiently buying time for Marc. “Yeah, it has.” (Y/N) responded. “I sense some tension here.” Anton said, staring at the two. “No hard feelings?”

Layla and (Y/N) stared at each other, there were a lot to unpack, but from an outsiders point of view, they looked to be solemn without one another, and that seeing each other again made a certain spark in their eyes.

“No- Well, I hope not.” (Y/N) spoke, staring at her. The edge of Layla’s lips curl into a smile. “Hmm… none.”

“What’s he doing?” Bek suddenly asked, making Anton look at Marc, still inside the pyramid, Marc was gesturing everywhere, nodding, and pointing.

“He’s uh… praying.” Layla says, staring at Marc.

That reason didn’t seem acceptable as things escalated quickly, now there was a gun pointed at Marc as he knelt on the floor. “Anton, you don’t want to do this.” (Y/N) said, her hands raised. “I don’t want to, but your friend here was getting a bit too close.” He spoke.

Layla shakes her head. “Just- let us go.”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Anton says, but then another man approached him, whispering in his ear. “Funny, seems like we have another guest.” Anton continued, stepping outside. (Y/N), Layla, and Marc all turn their heads to see who it was.

And speak of the devil there was he.

Arthur Harrow, walking towards where they were.

Layla and Marc stared at each other while (Y/N) stared Harrow down as he walked.

Now Harrow was talking about some kind of common ground between all of them.

“(Y/N), snooping into business but ran into a much more complicated deal.” Harrow looked at her, taking a second to glance at Layla before returning his gaze on her. “Layla, seems you have caught yourself with the two people that matters to you most.” Layla looked down, biting the inside of her cheek, not letting Harrow get to her head. “One hides a far deeper secret concerning past wounds, however the other stays only true, but troublesome.” Harrow continued, now looking at Marc.

Marc shook his head, muttering under his breath. “You piece of shit.”

Harrow ignores him, facing Anton. (Y/N) knew something was about to happen the minute Harrow raised his cane.

‘Take your chance now, do it’ Sekhmet said, (Y/N) gazing at her on the far end of where Harrow came through.

(Y/N) strokes the ring on her hand with her thumb, moving her gaze towards Harrow when he starts chanting, purple mist swirling to life.

‘What are you waiting for?!’ Both Sekhmet and Khonshu said to Marc and (Y/N) separately.

Marc found himself looking at Khonshu as the air began to pick up its pace.

‘We’ve got enough power we need as she’s there, she’s Sekhmet’s avatar’ Khonshu said, referring to (Y/N).

Marc found himself staring at (Y/N), she too looked unsure.

(Y/N) watched as the sarcophagus was wrecked, followed by Harrow walking away, sparing one last glance at them.

“Hey, he’s gone, where is he?” One of the men shouted, their guns aimed.

Both (Y/N) and Layla look up.

She took it as a sign.

(Y/N) felt the power course through her as she summoned her own suit, tugging her other hand as her ring elongated into a spear, sharp that it shined.

She then acted fast as Marc swooped down, downing two other men while (Y/N) dealt with the other.

She mercilessly whipped her spear, cutting clean on their chest as they got knocked down. A few shots were given, (Y/N) holding her arm up, letting the blade ricochet from her arm brace, she ducked and rolled, hitting her spear under the man’s legs, letting him fall.

Bunch of screams were heard outside the area, people taking shelter as shots echoed throughout.

Marc was busy fighting with another one of Anton’s men when duplicate round of shots unexpectedly rained on the three from the other side of the fence.

(Y/N), thinking quick, ran and shielded herself in front of Layla, grabbing her arm and pulling her close behind her as the brace on her arm turned into a shield that almost fit both of them.

Layla let out a gasp of breath, staring at (Y/N) while Marc threw daggers at them, dodging the shots.

Layla and her looked at each other. “Buy me some time.” Layla said.

(Y/N) stared at her for a few seconds before nodding. “We can do that. Go, I’ll cover you.”

“Marc! We need to give her more time!” (Y/N) shouted as she covered her, Marc nodded before spinning and throwing a few more daggers, effectively hitting the row of Anton’s men.

Layla went inside the pyramid again while (Y/N) decided tk bell out Marc, hopping over the fence as she fought again, moving swiftly with her spear in hand.

She effectively downed a few men, sustaining a kick to the stomach and a few punches, even a few bullets to the chest, which ricocheted.

“(Y/N)! Layla!” Marc said as he was surrounded, unable to free himself just yet.

(Y/N)’s gaze snapped to where Layla was, and sure enough she was battling Bek.

She found herself running towards them.

They were in the middle of fighting when Bek pulled out a knife and tried lunging at Layla. (Y/N) rushed in, tackling Bek out of Layla’s way.

“Go!” She said as Layla picked the pieces from the sarcophagus. (Y/N) was suddenly kicked, letting herself stumble on the ground on her back as Bek ran towards Layla to stop her, grabbing her hair and forcefully tugging her back.

Layla screamed, reaching up to Bek’s arm to stop him. (Y/N) rushed again, landing a punch onto Bek’s face, making him let go of her.

Marc was still being surrounded as he tried his best to defend himself, hearing Steven in him.

(Y/N) dealt with Bek as Layla stored the pieces in her pockets, making sure not to miss any piece.

“He needs your help.” Layla said, looking at Marc.

“On it.” And (Y/N) was running again, offering Marc some aid, taking down those around him as he had one on his hands.

“Alright time out! That’s it! Time out, time out!” (Y/N) heard someone scream in an English accent, moving her gaze towards where Marc was, only it was now a man in a white suit, his arms raised in surrender. What on earth?

“Let’s all calm down, yeah?” He kept saying.

Being distracted, she didn’t even notice someone coming behind her.

“Let’s all chill the F out and-“

“Marc, look out!” (Y/N) said, but then it was too late as both of them were impaled by a spear.

Steven gasped for breath as the spear effortlessly went through him, followed by many more. “Take the body Marc, take the body Marc!” He said in regret, giving the body to Marc.

(Y/N) gasped, feeling something lodged through her. Breaking off the half that was in front of her, she grunted as she pulled out the other end on her back, angry.

Summoning her spear, she spun it before hurling her spear at the man, letting the sharpest edge pierce through him.

She glanced at Marc, watching as his suit was back, fighting the men coming at him.

(Y/N) glances at Layla, seeing her exiting the pyramid, grabbing a gun and was headed straight at them.

(Y/N) still fought as Layla fired a shot at one riding a horse, but then Layla was suddenly hit by a spear, sending her to ground.

She looked up to find that it was Anton.

The four of them were in the field, Layla being in the middle a few feet away from Marc and Anton while (Y/N) was parallel with Layla from a few feet away.

Then they started running at each other.

“Grab her!” Marc shouted as (Y/N) ran and jumped, taking Layla with her as they rolled a few feet away.

Marc now fought with Anton, but he managed to escape.

Layla and (Y/N) caught their breaths as they both held themselves up, Marc nearing.

“You okay?” Marc asked Layla. She nods. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Have you got everything together?” (Y/N) asked her. Layla nods, tapping her pockets. “Its right here.”

“What do we do now?” Marc asked.

“We need to find a car.” Layla said, clutching her shoulder as it felt a little sore.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

After taking their bags and walking a few miles away, the trio found themselves in a car rental.

Layla and (Y/N) leaned on the wall, resting their bodies as Marc talked with the person in charge.

“So, your husband, huh?” (Y/N) said, staring at Marc.

“It was for the alibi, we’re long gone.” Layla said, looking at (Y/N).

(Y/N) made somewhat a surprised face as her eyebrows raised. “Oh... So you two became..?”

“Yeah, we became together, even planned on marrying but then, a lot happened...” She says, “But I’m sure of one thing and that’s we’re only doing this to save the world.”

(Y/N) nodded, sure it made her feel something different inside, but who was she to complain? But the thought of her marrying someone else left a place in her head.

“But, you... Where have you been? I think we haven’t seen each other since...” Layla trailed off, staring at the ground. The last thing she remembered was looking her in the face as they said their farewells to each other in a busy street in Spain.

“Spain...yeah, I remember.” (Y/N) let out a breath. “Times changed surely... I’ve been doing the same thing as you, until Sekhmet and I found out about what Harrow was doing then I knew I just had to do something.” She spoke.

Layla battled in her mind, but the latter won as she cupped her hand in hers, making them look at each other like nothing happened between them. “You’re doing the right thing.”

(Y/N) found her eyes scanning Layla’s face, eyes trailing down to her nose, to her lips. She blinked, fearing she might caught her. But it looks like Layla did, but never let it known.

“Thank you for saving my life back there.” She said.

“You’re welcome.” (Y/N) replied, suddenly finding her mind empty as she relished the feeling of Layla’s hand touching hers. Her hand seemed to have a mind of its own as her pinky finger slowly intertwined itself with hers.

“Whatever Harrow said back there, he knew you mattered to me. Its true.” Layla uttered abruptly.

“Wh-“

“I’m sorry, just disregard whatever I said.” Layla chuckled dryly, her hand retracting although she didn’t want to let go just yet, but she didn’t know how (Y/N) felt, she wasn’t supposed to be risking anything when they’ve just seen each other again.

(Y/N), however, grabbed her hand as Layla tried pulling away, standing straight from leaning against the cold wall.

“Layla, its fine, you matter to me too, you know.. It never changed.” She smiled sheepishly.

Layla felt her heart pound. And she found the edges of her lips curling into a smile. A heartfelt one.

“Whatever happens next, I’ll help you guys out. Consider me your personal shield.” (Y/N) joked, which earned a laugh from Layla.

“You never changed,” Layla responded. “Never knew how much I missed tha-“

“So, anyone want to go into the desert?” Marc walked towards them, keys jingling in hand. This led to the pair letting go of their hands, fixing themselves, avoiding each other as if they’ve been caught doing something unacceptable.

Marc looked at the both of them, waiting for a response.

“I could use a night drive.” (Y/N) said, looking at Layla and Marc with a smile.

[sessa23]

Desperate (Part 5)

Collaboration with @noforkingclue . Hope you all enjoy it

TW warning, blood, gunshot, shooting

Marc looked at you as he crossed his arms, "do you realise what could have happened if you were caught?" You put your hand up "Marc please let me explain." Marc sighed "I didn't want you involved with the gods." You raised an eyebrow "I've been involved in this from the moment you kidnapped me"

You then thought for a moment "and anyway, why is it okay for you to do this but not me?" Marc wanted to tell you the real reason, he didn't want to lose you but instead he said "I need you Y/N"

You were both silent for a moment before you broke the ice "Did you find out anything while you were in the chamber?" Marc nodded "Yes we need to find Senfu's sarcophagus, she didn't say what it would contain."

You raised an eyebrow "she, huh marc" Marc chuckled "Y/N, if I didn't know any better I would say that you were jealous." Your jaw dropped "What?!" Marc smiled "you're worried about me."

"Oh Marc," you said, as you cupped his cheek, "Of course I'm worried about you." You had to resist the urge to smile at the shock that crossed Marc's face. You leant closer, feeling Marc's breath ghost over your face.

"If you die, how the fuck am I going to get back home?!" you yelled as you pushed him away from you, glaring at him

Marc turned to you, a small smile came on his face "I think that deep down, you were secretly worried about me. Which is why you followed me into the chamber." You could feel your cheeks starting to heat up, Marc must have noticed this because a smirk formed on his face "n-no." You replied

Marc walked towards you "are you sure? I make you nervous, don't i?" You backed back "no." You lied, as your back was against the wall. Marc caressed your cheek. "Face turning red, heart skipping a beat, pupils dilated. Hmm I think you're lying to me." He caressed your cheek again.

You look up, realising just how closes Marc's face is to yours. You could tell that Marc realised the same thing. Part of you wanted to lean closer, to press your lips against his. Instead you pulled away with an awkward cough. Doing that would only complicate your relationship even more

"We should go, we have to get to Senfu's sarcophagus." Marc was silent for a moment before he nodded "you're right Y/N." The two of you headed off, walking away from the alley. "Wait, how are we going to find it?" You turned to marc "I have my ways"

As part of your job at the museum, you occasionally helped get stolen artifacts back from the black market. The name "Mogart" appeared several times as someone who sold and bought items from the black market, lucky you had a persudoym that you used when getting this information. After getting the information you needed, your suspicions were confirmed, Mogart had the sarcophagus.

Marc and yourself then headed back to the safe house to get changed and to come up with a backstory.  As you got changed you spotted the scar from the night you were shot on an archaeological dig. The events flashed in your mind. The gun shot, the blood, the shooter being taken away. You remembered that Marc was applying pressure to the wound, falling unconscious and then waking up in the hospital with Marc by yourside.

"Y/N? Are you almost ready?" Marc knocked as the door opened. He spotted the scar before he turned around "sorry I didn't realise." He replied as the turned and closed the door. Steven looked at him as Marc sat down on lounge waiting for you "all these years later...I still haven't told them the truth."  Steven was silent for a moment "Told them what?" He asked

Just then you came out all dressed, Marc looked up at you "Are you okay?" Nodding as you fiddled with the zip of your jacket. "Im fine but we need a backstory, I already have a persudoym that I can use. You need to think of persudoym." Marc thought for a moment trying to come up with an idea.

"Steven has come up with an idea, he says we should pose as a married couple." You thought for a moment "I think that's the best option." You put your ring on your wedding finger and turned to Marc. "We can discuss the rest of the story in the car"

[yostresswritinggirl]

@butterfly-mochi​ Rewrote this freaking thing thrice because it keeps getting deleted wth tumblr agjvahkfajkvk- I enjoyed writing it a lot tho and since I’m too weak to the characters I ended up writing for all of them (except for Sucrose, im sorry bb huhu, I ran out of brain power). This is my first time writing for so many of them in one go so please excuse me for any mistakes or blandness ywy thank you for letting me write for my baby Ganyu too hhhhh

Universe Reversal 2

Genshin Impact Character Reader and Modern Players with Zhongli, Childe & Ganyu (how they simp for you) (event masterlist / Part 1 / Part 3)

Zhongli the F2P

The most relatable out of the bunch because this man is still broke and can only rely on the primogems he can farm. And he had a LOT. The one thing he doesn’t have a lot on, however, is his luck.

So how did he manage to pull you?: Well after exhausting all his primogem on your banner with nothing but weapons and other characters, he has lost his resolve. But by some weird luck, there was a character bug that was fixed and in his email was the almighty consolation primogem. Enough for ONE pull. And by the Gods he FINALLY got you.

He’d nonchalantly post his screenshot of pulling you using a single acquaint fate in his friend group without any words and everyone else just loses their shit. “You got them in one pull?!” “Yeah” A riot.

This was partnered with the fact that not only is Zhongli an F2P player, but also barely has any five star characters.

He looks calm and apathetic over the news, but behind the screen he’s exhausted and relieved, silently livid.

He has no primogems left to squeeze for a constellation so you’re instead pampered with the best weapon suitable for you (because that’s all he keeps getting).

Zhongles spends most of his time farming for materials to quickly level you up, unlocking all your stories and voiceline, but he fucked up on your build (his artifacts are messy).

He follows communities, forums and videos regarding your character to know all the things he needs to perfect your build. You can barely make a dent against normal mobs, so he knew he was doing something VERY wrong.

Is the type of person to keep refreshing the page for new content, very updated.

Ask him a question about your character and he’s gonna bring you the word vomit that is his research. He’s not gonna stop- probably accidentally developed a copypasta for you.

Also follows your VA in both Tiktok and Twitter to indulge in every bit of content. He also has that screenshot of his pull saved and locked.

On his birthday, a friend of his gifted him a chibi plushie of you and he has treasured it ever since, treating and handling it like its a figurine.

“It is merely pure luck and grace from the gacha gods that I got this character, and I will make sure that they know I am very grateful for this fortune.”

Favorite Voiceline: Birthday Message

Childe The Whaler

This lucky wealthy bastard with no remorse for his money whales for EVERY character. He’s making a collection, which is to get all the characters, especially the five stars. So when your banner finally popped up, he’s gonna square up and trigger a whole ass meteor shower.

How he pulled you: Money. His luck with this games are actually not the best so he always compensates with money, he got you halfway through the first failed pity, almost giving him a heart attack that he might actually break the bank just to get you.

And then he pulls more to raise your constellation lol.

The first thing he does is look over your character info and read through it all; constellation infos, your base stats, artifact compatibility.

At the end when he’s maximized everything, he would then focus on playing around with your character *coughs climbing noises coughs*

He thought you’d just be another part of his collection but playing with your character was very enjoyable and in-line with his playstyle- oops 100 screenshots with the Kamera-

Any and all merchandise that he fancies would be his, and he’s definitely flexing it to the other sweetie nerds who call themselves simps. He’s fighting for the simping title, and he’s currently neck and neck with this fanartist in Pixiv.

Speaking of that fanartist, he definitely commissioned an expensive and detailed portrait of you, full rights and everything. No one else was allowed to use it but him.

Was also the first one with the audacity to call out your VA to create an account on Tiktok to create more content with your voice. He was successful.

His obssession also comes in the form of self-indulgent contents, and had been keeping track of the ship wars happening. During conventions, he cosplays as the character shipped with you the most (or the character he thinks should end up with you).

Silently scrutinizing those who cosplay you, only ever taking pictures with/of the best looking one, sorry haha

Definitely flaunts that you are his waifu/husbando and will fight for best girl/best boy during debates or polls. Has mobilized the community to vote for you once. He’s very persuasive.

“Hm? Why I’m just the best collector in the game, and I am more than happy to let everyone know that I am their number one fan haha, everyone who claims otherwise is definitely wrong!”

Favorite Voiceline: More About (Y/N) I-IV, (Y/N)’s Hobbies...

Ganyu the Employed

Ganyu, our dearest overworker, is one of the players in the older stage who actually has a job but still plays Genshin for their past times. The gorgeous sceneries and the music is her main focus in playing the game, not much of a try-hard but still decent in the combat mechanics.

How she pulled you: You came home within 50 pulls! And you appeared again after another 10 pull! Ganyu was so SHOOKT and so distressed because oh goodness, what does she do? She doesn’t know anything much about you!

Will rewatch your three trailers to try and understand your skills better, ended up saving the soundtracks from them because that was such a nice trailer music! Tnbee gains a new follower!

Ganyu will take a while before she can properly play or build you up because she’s so busy with work, she only ever plays when she feels fully done with her work.

During her break she plays with your character while multi-tasking on eating, earphones plugged in and sight on the phone as she farms materials and artifacts for you.

The moment she gets more help from her player friends tho, holy shit, you just ended up being so OP. She had so many good artifacts and weapons for you because she didn’t know what they were for before.

She loves how you’re so easy to use and can easily solo the enemies and even the boss fights. A huge breather, because now Ganyu can cheese the battles that takes a while, to give her more time to focus on the storyline and lores.

Since Ganyu plays for the story and aesthetic, she’ll find you almost always in her team. Still very proud of her pull, she makes the best screenshots of your fights or in the best angle through exploration.

Treasures you so much she starts talking to her phone- “Ah, no, please don’t fall.” “There’s violetgrass up there, let’s try and get it”

Blushes everytime you produce a sound when climbing, doesn’t change you anyways tho

Hums to your trailer music while working, and if permitted, would have the song on repeat while she buries herself in work. She finds it really refreshing and the time she spends in work miraculously flies by fast when she gets lost in the sound.

At one point, when she was given a day-off or if the convention was on her free time, she attends to look for cosplayers of you and take a picture. No one rejects her because she’s so adorable and cute when asking shyly.

Had brought a decent amount of merchandise, preferably the functional/practical ones like a phone cover, mug or keychain. Also has an earphones clamp with your little chibi self as the holder.

When asked, she would shyly announce that she likes your character the most.

“Their character theme and music really soothes me during work, it feels nice to have them, and I have not once regretted ever pulling for them. They are the best.”

Favorite Voicelines: Good Night/Afternoon..., About Us, Something To Share..., Interesting Things...

so enjoyable...

@moaa @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @dandelion-dreams @snackgod @rxsalinee

[1kook]

some way, some how

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

Summary: Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you. Warnings: emotional constipation, toxic ex, internalized misogyny, jk has bad experiences w/his ex’s dad, one scene where jk throws up, brief episode of panic, mentions of terminal cancer (minor); smut; fingering, praise kink, face fucking, spitting kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex on top of a car im sorry Misc: autoshop owner!jk, businesswoman!oc, slice of life, childhood crushes, friends to lovers, ex gfs, pining, country bumpkin pjm w/crush on oblivious oc, ex-bf kth but it’s not real lol Wc: 19.4k (wow!!!)

the spirit of auto shop jk possessed me n next thing i knew i was 11k into a drabble. if ur curious: the 1975 corvette, car at the end, the tweed suitskirt (not actually chanel ☹️sowwyyy) also: this is the longest fic I've written!!!!! clap for me!!!!! i proofread the first few paragraphs n was like thats enough professionalism for the day

inspired by ain’t no mountain high enough one of my fave songs ever🥺 the title is a lyric from the song bc i love it so much enjoy !!

The garage is mostly dark when you enter, the faint hum of a radio quietly filtering through the stagnant room, its source coming from the back wall, where the only light is. It’s a rolling lamp, shining down an ugly yellow glow onto the figure of one man.

Jungkook’s sitting in that same rolling stool he always is, the metal one that’s rusted beyond repair, the cushion so uncomfortably flat. He’s caught up in whatever paint job he’s been tasked with this time around, a classic muscle car from what looks like the 80’s. He’s humming along to the radio, so caught up in stenciling out his design that he doesn’t notice you creep behind him until you’re very purposefully rattling the tool cart beside him, a teasing “boo!” making him jump.

“Fuck, you scared me,” he gasps, rubs over his chest as if to check if his heart is in fact still there. You grin, brandish your bag of takeout out for him before he can lecture you on the dangers of startling people who work around very complex machinery. Instead, all he says is, “you’re an angel.”

Once you’ve got the food carefully scattered across his work bench, your cherry cola tucked next to a canister of gasoline like that’s the safest practice, Jungkook wastes no time diving into all the details of his project, the 1975 Chevy Corvette behind him. The longer you look at it, the more you feel you’ve seen it somewhere. Probably a car show, you presume.

“Purrs like a kitten,” he sighs dreamily, completely ignoring the way half his toppings slide out from the opposite end of his cheeseburger. You don’t, and you swipe a fallen pickle from his tray before he can catch you.

“A kitten?” You ask, glance over at the car. It’s desperately in need of a paint job, and you only realize this now as you stare at it more in depthly. The niggling feeling that you know this car is still there, but you ignore it in favor of indulging your best friend. “Don’t people usually compare cars to bigger, better cats?”

There’s a taped stencil running alongside the car, a thick stripe followed by a thinner one, and you suppose Jungkook’s trying to spice her up, give her back the same youthfulness she probably had in her prime. What better way to do so than by adding some classic stripes alongside it.

Jungkook hums, gulps down his soda noisily. “Not this one. Never heard an engine as soft as hers.”

You roll your eyes. For a minute, the two of you quietly chew through your burgers, the radio filling in the gaps while you analyze the car. You know this car, but you can’t remember where. Jungkook coughs into his palm, probably from trying to inhale his fries too fast like he does every time you go to the diner you’re eating from today.

The diner.

A mouthful of braces. A pretty waitress. A strict dad.

“Holy shit, this is Sojin’s dad’s car,” you inhale, the memories from high school suddenly hitting you full force. Jungkook chokes, out of surprise this time, and furiously goes to deny your claims. “This is totally his car. The one he tried to run you over with when he caught you trying to put her on the back of your bike.”

“He didn’t try to run me over,” Jungkook whines, and the tips of his ears are red from your revelation.

You glare. “Why are you fixing that asshole’s car for him?” You interrogate, the last quarter of your burger forgotten in favor of squeezing the truth out of him. You’d had enough of that treacherous woman and her equally deranged father causing Jungkook trouble, and to catch him still helping her now, almost ten years later, was enough to make a brain vessel pop.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he picks through his fries. The radio is still on, some tune you recognize from those old days at the diner when Jungkook had become so unbelievably smitten with the part timer that served you milkshakes every Wednesday afternoon.

He had been in love with her the moment he saw her, and the look in his eyes was only magnified by those dorky glasses he wore pre-lasik. You'd been his friend long enough, recognized the jump of his scrawny thigh beneath the table. Like a bunny, thumping in excitement at the sight of her.

Sojin was... full of surprises.

She was nothing less than a supermodel, long legs carrying her around the diner as if it was her runway. She was nice too, so you hadn’t originally had an excuse to dislike her. She was nice, and so endeared with your best friend that it was inevitable when they began dating. Her presence consumed the end of your high school careers, overtook the time that should have been yours and Jungkook’s last year before being thrown into adulthood. He decided on studying at a technical school nearby—per your encouragement to save money—while you travelled five hours out for your degree in business. That last year, when you had finally come to terms with your feelings, had been so painfully ripped away by Sojin and her never-ending list of teenage drama, and by Sojin’s dad and his overbearing need to police her and Jungkook every chance he got.

Jungkook still hung out—“Sojin was busy, do you wanna do something?”—but more often than not those hang outs consisted of Jungkook telling you about her and her dad, about how hard he tried to get into his good graces.

The bike incident had only been one of many. Times where Jungkook would put his heart—and life—on the line for that girl only for it to be in vain every time she broke up with him over the simplest things. You’d heard stories from Jungkook, all told with a tight smile, of a handshake that would bruise, a man chasing him with a bat, of a car following him to school. All things he put up with for a girl who didn’t care for him. One day, after Jungkook had grudgingly sat through an hour long dinner with her family, the stare of her father piercing through him, she broke up with him because she didn’t like how long his hair had gotten.

(If anyone were to ask you, he was handsome with long hair. Dreamy even.)

He cut it that same day.

As her childishness grew, you quickly came to dislike her. She strung Jungkook around, you thought, and just when you thought she was finally done toying with him and making his life difficult in the sneakiest ways, the damn kid started hitting the gym. His growing frame, toned arms and now straightened teeth had turned him into a heartthrob, and Sojin was just as aware of this as you were. “Don’t we look perfect together?” She’d ask, twirl around him like they were on the cover of a magazine and not standing on his chipped front porch.  

Needless to say, by the time graduation had rolled around you despised the woman. You absolutely disliked how she treated Jungkook, how she let her father treat Jungkook without ever stepping up and defending him. Granted, you didn’t know exactly what went on in her household behind closed doors, you’d seen enough of her uncaring attitude to want to ram her and her dad’s head against the hood of the car.

Which is why seeing the old car, in Jungkook’s shop nonetheless, was rekindling a boiling hatred in your chest. “That man should rot in hell for all he put you through,” you huff, glare at the car like it holds some magical connection to him and he can feel the intensity of your stare.

“___,” Jungkook scolds, swirls his cup around to distract himself. “He was just trying to protect his only daughter,” he defends, quietly, like it’s what he tells himself to justify all those years of mistreatment. Even when he and Sojin had continued through college, it had never stopped. You, being five hours away, couldn’t do a damn thing. “Besides, the guy’s old as hell now.”

You snort, finally breaking your staring match with the car. Glancing at Jungkook, he’s got that same forlorn expression on his face, the one he started wearing when he first came to terms with the fact that her dad would never like him. There was a time it was stuck permanently on his face, the pressure and the discomfort that came from the father of the girl you’ve dated for five years looking at you like you were nothing more than a speck of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

When you came back from school, educated and confident, you almost didn’t recognize your best friend. Tall and broad, tattoos splattered over his arm. Hair long like you loved it, but eyes still as round and wondrous as they’d been when you were kids. He had his own place now, he told you, and you vaguely remembered all the times he mentioned him and Sojin moving in together, mentally preparing yourself to see that wench for the first time in a while.

Much to your surprise, there was no Sojin in sight. No lingering artifacts of her presence. Nothing that showed she existed in this space besides an ugly orange mug she’d given him for his birthday one year, tucked into the very back of his cabinets. They’d broken up, he explained. Almost immediately after graduation.

After stringing him along for the better part of five years, she had decided this wasn’t what she wanted. No, what she wanted was a man ten years her senior with an abundance of cash to flow. Jungkook hadn’t cried. Hadn’t even looked the tiniest bit upset when you ordered pizza and drank some beer, watched your favorite episodes of The Simpsons like you were seventeen and avoiding your homework again.

You stayed the night, a little too tipsy to drive home. Besides, Jungkook had a spare bedroom. It was a room beside his, just a full bed with a chest of drawers. You liked it, liked the scent of him surrounding you after only seeing each other for a couple weeks in between months of distance. You liked it, because when he shifted in bed you realized the beds were pressed against the same wall, and you liked it until the shared wall spared you no secrets, and you listened to him quietly sob into his pillow.

“Old or not, he’s still the devil,” you murmur, snapping back to the present where Jungkook is wheeling himself closer to the car again. “Where did you find that thing anyway?”

He stays silent, quietly pretending like he still has something to do on the car besides paint it. Then, “I bumped into Sojin at the store.”

You sigh, drop your head between your shoulders. You can only imagine what whirlwind of a sob story she had to throw on him to win this favor.

“Kook,” you start, gauging his reaction only from his backside. His muscles ripple beneath his dark t-shirt, his usual red jumpsuit knitted around his waist. “What happened?”

Again, silence.

You say nothing, let him sort through the hurt on his own while you creep up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders and pressing down on the cricks behind his neck. He melts into your touch, head lolling forwards as a quiet sigh escapes him.

“She told me she was low on cash, and she needed the car to get to work,” he confesses, and from his ducked position, his voice trembles. You roll your eyes.

“And the paint job?”

A particularly rough press of your fingers has a whimper escaping him. God, this boy needed to see a chiropractor and a masseuse soon. All that hunching over and under these cars was doing a number on his back.

“I… I figured I might as well fix up the exterior too.” Of course he would, you think, Jungkook’s heart was stupidly big and easy to manipulate. He would get so swept up in it sometimes, trying to do the best he can for everyone’s benefit that he’d ignore himself.

You sit in his confession, fingers digging into his skin for a few minutes as you consider what to say.

The mature adult in you, the logical half of you, wants to hit him upside the head, scold him for letting that wench into his life again so easily. You were going on twenty-six now, all three of you, and you didn’t have time to be fixing him every time that childish woman decided to toy with him. Granted, it’s been four years since you last saw her, since you heard him muffle his cries on the other side of the wall, and you liked to think Jungkook was a respectful adult of society now. He didn’t have time to get dragged around by self-absorbed women with insane fathers.

The other part, the best friend since childhood, wants to run away. Wants to pack Jungkook into a suitcase and take him far away from here and from her. Unlike you, who now lived in the city, Jungkook had stayed in your small hometown, a quiet place just outside the bustling city. It was difficult to ensure his happiness when you were always forty-five minutes out of reach. It would be so much easier to just take him and fly to another province, maybe on the beach, Jungkook loved the beach.

“Listen,” he says, successfully pulling you out from your spiral. “I know what you’re gonna say and I just wanna tell you it’s not like that.”

You blink, hands stilling on his shoulders. Your lack of movement allows him to spin around on his chair, gaze up at you with the same shiny gaze he’s given you ever since you were kids. “I’m just doing her this tiny favor. She looked...” he trails off, face scrunching to find the words.

“Like shit?” You propose, and he smiles. “Like flaming dumpster shit behind a club?”

Jungkook laughs, loud and beautiful. You want to kiss the mole beneath his lip.

“She looked bad, okay?” He settles, reaches forward to take your palm in his. You’re standing between his thighs, and you wonder how he would have acted if you were Sojin. “Don’t think things worked out with that CEO she was dating. I’m just giving her a push.”

You sigh, try to push those crestfallen sobs to the back of your head. “Okay,” you agree, briefly glancing back at the damn car. “You fix her car, and that’s it,” you state. Jungkook nods, makes a little X over his heart. He knows how much you hate that woman. “No funny business.”

“No funny business,” he agrees, then reaches down for a white spray can. “You wanna spray some dicks on it before I paint it?”

“Please,” you laugh, taking the face mask he offers you with a grin.

—

One day your car starts making a weird noise as you pull out of the underground parking garage of your building. It’s somewhere between a pig squealing and metal scraping. You’ve been around Jungkook long enough to know this is probably something to do with your breaks, something about them being loose or old, one of the two. You have a short day at work today. There’s repairs being done to the office you work at, so everyone’s been spending more time working from home.

You leave work a little after two pm, head pounding from the hour long meeting you sat through, the mediocre business proposals your boss had asked you to look through and file. There’s a hefty load of emails waiting in your inbox, mostly the interns requesting you write them a recommendation letter. You’ll have to look through those later, pick out the good ones and write them each a unique piece kissing the ground they walk on.

The scent of freshly fried donuts hits your nose as you pull into your old town; the bakery down the road from Jungkook’s has their windows open. You can already taste the sweetness on the tip of your tongue, the iced coffee cooling your insides as you sit and watch Jungkook work on your car.

Jungkook’s shop is on the corner of the street, takes up a huge chunk with it’s massive garage and driveway; the office area is tiny compared to the sheer size of the actual work floor. There’s music blaring through the overhead speakers, and when you pull in you recognize it as Jimin’s playlist.

“Morning, Miss,” the country bumpkin says, leaning against your car door as you rifle through your purse. “What’re you in for?”

“Hi, Jimin,” you reply sweetly, take his hand as he helps you out the door. You very vaguely explain the noise your car had made that morning, glancing around the shop as Jimin gets to work inspecting it. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin’s waving over some other employees, all greeting you in their matching red jumpsuits. “Kook’s in the office,” he tells you, and it’s almost sensual the way his hand glides over your palm for your keys. God, you needed to get laid. “Has some lady friend in there with him.”

You pause, the bustling of the crew behind you fading into the background. Something inside you snaps, and you whirl around the garage, before catching sight of a 1975 Chevy Corvette, almost unrecognizable from how you’d last seen it. It’s bright red now, a color you only briefly saw before you’d left the other night, with two, lightning bolt racing stripes decorating each side. It looks new, almost in mint condition, and the fact it’s still here has you storming through the garage.

Your heels clack loudly, the crew moving to the side as you torpedo straight into the offices. You barely remember to greet the receptionist before you’re stomping straight into the main office.

There’s no knock, no warning given, before you’re flinging the door open, seeing exactly what you’d expected. 

“___,” Jungkook stutters, jumping onto his feet from his position on the couch. He looks frantic, wide eyes flickering between you and the woman sitting in front of him, her back turned to you. But you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“Did you say ___?” She says, and she’s still as tall and as beautiful as you remember her. Had it not been for the heels you wore, you don’t doubt she’d tower over you. She flashes you a killer smile, lips carefully painted red. It almost looks murderous. “My! ___, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sojin exclaims, rushing around the couch to pull you into a tight hug. You don’t return it.

You let her cling to you for a second, before pushing her away as gently as you can by the shoulders. As much as you’d like to rip her in half, tear her apart for all she did to Jungkook, you won’t. You’re older now, elegant in all the ways you weren’t before. It would be a huge disservice to your maturity if you shoved your heel up her ass right now.

“It’s lovely seeing you, Sojin,” you smile, taking her hand in yours.

Besides, being a woman in business meant you knew better, more creative ways to strike.

“And your boyfriend?” You ask, tilting your head in staged confusion. You even glance around the office, like you’ll find the geezer hiding behind the potted plant or Jungkook’s frozen figure. “The rich one with the huge company? Did he come with you today?”

Her smile tightens, red lips pursed as she gauges you with those cat eyes that haunt your nightmares every now and then. “My ex-boyfriend,” she corrects after a minute, pastes a forlorn expression onto her features. “We’ve separated, and you know how it is for women like us,” she jests. “We need a man to push us along—“

“Do we?” You ask, think back on all those years of school, of studying and working and pushing yourself, all the time you spent investing in yourself for yourself. “I don’t think so,” you contemplate. “It’s really embarrassing if you can’t care for yourself without the help of a man. Almost like you don’t trust in your own abilities, and ride other’s coattails instead.”

A beat of silence. Two completely different worlds, and Jungkook hovering awkwardly beside you.

Two palms grasp your shoulders from behind, and when you turn Jungkook is smiling at you, forced and stressed like he can’t stand to be in this uncomfortable situation any longer. “Well,” he announces, pushing you behind him as he guides Sojin towards the door. “There was an issue with her car, so I’ll just check on it real quick, okay?”

You nod, feel empty as he takes her by the wrist, and not you. He hands her her purse, palm on the small of her back as they exit the office. When the door clicks shut behind them, you throw your own handbag at the ground, barely stop yourself from stomping like a child.

Instead, you breathe in, hold it, and exhale, just like your Tuesday yoga instructor taught you. By the time you’ve collected yourself a few minutes have passed, so you kneel down to gather your fallen lipstick tubes and cellphone from the floor, scooping them back into your purse.

Tugging the door shut behind you, you mindlessly wander down the hall, until you reach the small receptionist area and nearly get jumped by Kim Taehyung. “Holy shit, you won’t believe this,” he gasps, takes you by the shoulders and nearly shakes you until your brain falls out through your ears. You would have slapped him, had this been any other man, but he’s quite possibly the only man besides Jungkook you’d let jostle you like this. “You’ll never guess who just left the office with J—wait,” he pales, suddenly connecting two and two, your exit from said offices definitely a key factor in whatever conclusion he’s drawn. “You were in the office with Hwang Sojin and you didn’t kill her?!”

You huff, let him shake you again until you’re nearly tripping in your heels. “Yes, I know,” you groan, finally slap his hands away when you begin to feel this morning’s breakfast bubbling from all the motion. “I’m surprised too.”

“Wow,” Taehyung marvels, leans back against the receptionist desk even though the poor girl has told him time and time again not to. He ignores her, something he can do as second best friend to the boss. “Remember when she showed up crying outside his mom’s house and you threw a potted plant at her? Oh how the great have fallen.”

Rolling your eyes, you drift over to the plexiglass window in the office that looks out across the entirety of the garage floor. In the corner, Jungkook’s got the hood of the Corvette open as he works away on something, Sojin tapping at her phone beside him. “Why are you here, Tae?”

He steps beside you, tuned into the same scene. “Can’t visit my ex-girlfriend every now and then?” He teases, you groan.

“We dated for three days, dude, let it go,” you whine, and watch with rapt attention as Jungkook motions for her to start the engine. She does, and it purrs to life, soft and silky just like Jungkook said it does. She squeals and claps, launches herself into his arms in thanks. You look away.

“Yuck,” Taehyung gags and you couldn’t agree more. “Can’t believe you ended the best 72 hours of my life for that pinhead and the hussy attached to his hip.”

He shrieks when you pinch his side, and you take great satisfaction in the judgemental stare half the crew sends him through the glass. After all, they weren’t soundproof. “You embarrassed me and my brand,” he huffs, crossing his arms as the two of you return to watching Jungkook and the hussy.

“He’s not a pinhead,” you softly retort, watch him wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead as he waves her off. Sojin sends him a brigade of air kisses, none of which he catches. A sick sense of glee consumes you at the sight, but then he’s turning to stare directly at you and Taehyung through the glass, and the both of you quickly whirl away.

“His ability to find you in less than a second is so weird,” Taehyung shivers, and you ignore it, taking the candy from the bowl on the receptionist desk. She doesn’t care, having heard these conversations more than enough times to get the general gist of what you and Taehyung gossip about. You’re surprised she’s never mentioned it to Jungkook before.

Regardless, you listen to Taehyung complain about his life for a few more minutes, before Jimin’s sweet voice pops into the room. His ash blonde hair is all ruffled, and there’s something dark smeared over his otherwise perfect skin as he tells you your car is fixed. Taehyung bids you goodbye, and Jimin walks you back to your car out on the garage floor.

“All set, miss,” Jimin grins, puts a hand against the car so you don’t hit your head as you go in. You thank him, and don’t miss the way he lingers by your window.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilt your head quizzically. Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he looks shyly at the ground.

“Actually, I was wondering if—“

“___,” Jungkook calls, jogging over beside Jimin, who looks almost ashamed to be caught doing...whatever it was he was gonna do. Jungkook glances at him, catches him in some weird staring contest before crouching down to your window. “You needed your car fixed? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You blink, don’t know how to politely tell him he was too busy kissing the ass of his toxic ex-girlfriend to help you out. “Jimin helped me,” you smile, the same practiced expression you’ve mastered since college. You usually get by, usually trick people with that look, but not with him. Jungkook knows you too well, knows that look, and knows you’re holding yourself back. “You were busy.”

His lips part in surprise, tugged downwards with the hint of a frown. “I,” he stutters, looks at Jimin, who doesn’t seem that impressed with him either. “I… I would’ve came if you called.”

You tug your sunglasses out from their little case, slide them over the bridge of your nose as you strap your seatbelt over yourself. “Would you though?” You ask, flash him another polite smile before shifting your car’s gears. Jimin walks off, clears the path for you to exit, and with just Jungkook standing there, you speak freely. “I would hate to distract you from something important.”

—

Some of the proposals end up being better than expected, and after carefully sifting through them, your boss asks you to sit through presentations for the next few days. Your time gets consumed in graphs and budgets. There’s a multitude of businesses you have to look into, some big and well-known, and others small and local. You drive around the city one day, visiting business after business, until your ankles hurt in your heels and your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Your only comfort is the nice Chanel skirt suit you’re wearing that makes you feel like the most important person in the room wherever you go.

By the time the week’s over, there’s a thin cut forming on the back of your ankles from all the walking you’ve done in your heels. You slump against your front door, tossing your heels in the vague direction of the closet before padding through your house.

You nearly scream yourself sore at the figure in your kitchen, hunched over what looks to be a hastily made cake with a number three candle. “Oh my god,” you seethe, turning the overhead light on to illuminate Jungkook’s grinning figure, dirty and sweaty from work. You glance at the clock on the stove; it’s only been about an hour since his garage closed.

“Surprise!” He exclaims, and you’re not the slightest bit amused when he begins humming the happy birthday song on a day that is definitely not your birthday.

When he’s done, you don’t clap and his beaming smile doesn’t waver. “It is not my birthday,” you calmly state, placing your leather padfolio on the counter.

Jungkook blows the candle out for you. “It’s the birthday of when we first met,” he explains, and gets to cutting the cake. How he remembers such a day, you don’t know. You do know that this is his mom’s birthday cake recipe, and you love that. “Can you believe it? Friends for almost three decades.”

“Almost,” you repeat, dutifully sitting across from him and taking the plate he offers. He nods at you like a bobblehead. 

His eyes are sparkly and big, like he’s drunk, and it’s only then you notice the red wine on the table, bottle open and halfway done. You set your fork down, grasp the neck of the bottle in your hand. “Have you been drinking?” You ask, even though the answer stares you right in the face. You frown. “You hate drinking.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shovels more cake into his mouth to delay his response. “Needed it,” he offhandedly explains, nearly eats the candle but you jump forward to snatch it off his fork before he can.

“What do you mean?” You inquire. You’re not hungry anymore, too interested in whatever’s going on in his head to make him think he needs to be drunk around you.

Jungkook gulps, reaches forward for more wine but you cradle the bottle to your chest. You nearly gasp when he levels you with a real, stony glare, the expression out of place on his face. “Cuz you’re mad,” he huffs. “At me.”

There was a time you would coddle Jungkook’s every mistake, never let him think he was at fault for anything. You’d grown out of it shortly before high school, recognizing boys were stupid no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Since then, you’ve watched him get into trouble time and time again—Sojin being the prime example—and only intervened when absolutely necessary. Some part of you, the half that hates seeing him upset, wants to tell him you’re not. The mature part in you, however, doesn’t let that happen.

“I am,” you agree, watch his eyes widen almost comically at your admission. You set the wine bottle back on the table, leaning your chin on your palm as you level him with the most unimpressed gaze you can. “I’m furious, actually.”

He whimpers, actually whimpers like a kicked puppy, and you can almost see the metaphorical ears pressed against his head and the tail tucked between his legs. His lips are big and pouty, stained from the wine. You’d love to know what they feel like.

Jungkook’s vulnerability lasts all of three seconds, before he’s shaking himself out of whatever emotional pit his foggy brain has him in. “Well, it’s dumb,” he spits, and it’s your turn to sit in shock. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulously, because this has never happened before. Are you overprotective and sometimes overbearing? Sure. Has Jungkook ever voiced discomfort with that before? Never. “I’m not telling you what to do,” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest.

He rolls his eyes, pushes away from the table like a moody teen. You know it’s because he’s drunk, because he’s not himself, but you have to remind yourself that he obviously felt this way somewhere in his heart to voice it to you now. “You’re not my mom.”

You choke. “I’m not!” You angrily agree, pushing away from the table as well.

Jungkook snarls, “well you sure do love acting like her.” He picks up his plate, glances over at you with a look in his eyes that can only be likened to that of a sneaky cat, and then purposefully shoves the bread and frosting down the garbage disposal in the sink. You shriek, fly around the table and shove him away.

“What is wrong with you?” You seethe, push him away rudely with a hand on his face. Jungkook stumbles back, slips on the floor and nearly cracks his head on the corner of the counter. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, abandoning the sink in favor of watching the way his face twists up at the sudden motion, stomach contracting beneath his black t-shirt, cheeks puffing. “Oh god, oh god,” you stammer, tugging him to his feet with the strength only a panicked individual about to see an entire cake regurgitated onto their kitchen tile can have.

You’ve barely kicked the door to the bathroom open when Jungkook begins throwing up, gooey vomit spewing from his mouth and onto the floor. It touches your arm, and you shriek before shoving him in the general direction of the toilet.

“Ew, ew,” you freak, shoving your hand under the sink faucet to get that gross feeling away. You wanna vomit yourself, but you tell yourself there can only be one sick person at a time, and right now it’s Jungkook.

He’s got his head in the toilet, disgusting sounds echoing off the ceramic of it. By the time you’ve calmed down and washed your arm thrice, you move over to pull his bangs away from his face, letting him hurl in peace.

“I’m sorry,” he mopes, spews another round of birthday cake into the toilet.

You look away, blindly reach out to turn the bathroom fan on. “Mhm,” you nod, rubbing a hand over his back. Jungkook nods sadly against the toilet seat.

“‘M sorry,” he repeats, gags around nothing but the gross feeling left in his throat. “I-I know you just want…” a pause as he considers throwing up some more, “...want what’s best for me.”

“I do,” you agree, wipe a hand down the side of his face that he leans into. “Not trying to be your mom,” you assure him, and he snorts.

“Be a good mom,” he murmurs, so soft you don’t hear him. You hum, leaning closer and he repeats it. “You’d be… a good mom.”

Not knowing what to do with that information, you just pat his back until he falls asleep, cheek against the toilet seat.

—

“Woah, the sexual tension in this garage is off the charts,” Taehyung blurts from behind you, and you smack your clipboard against his chest. “Oof,” he grunts, rubbing his chest like it actually hurt. “You doing finances for him again?” He asks and you nod.

In an ideal world, Taehyung would leave upon finding out you’re busy. In this world, he simply leans into your personal space, nearly knocking you into an empty tool cart. “Oooh, an extensive list of all the money Jungkook’s stupidly blown this month. How much did he spend on neon signs this time?”

You relent, showing him the shop’s finances. Anywhere else, revealing a business’s finances without the consent of the owner would be a federal crime. Here, it’s the equivalent of showing Taehyung Jungkook’s browser history. “He spent how much on window tint?!”

“A lot,” you say.

There’s a whistle from across the garage, the shop’s resident country bumpkin Park Jimin standing at the huge garage doors with his hand on his hip. “No fraternizing, please.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Boooo,” he shouts, peels himself away from you to flick an impolite finger Jimin’s way. “He’s just jealous,” he tells you, and you frown.

“Of what?” You ask, and Taehyung nearly loses his shit.

“My precious ___,” he sighs, leans his forehead on your shoulder. “So beautiful and smart, yet so slow.” You flick the side of his forehead just as Jungkook strolls by and, seeing your attack, slaps the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Why do you guys hate me!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping at least five feet away from you and Jungkook’s giggling forms.

“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring Taehyung’s soulful cries as he glances over your shoulder at the clipboard. You tilt it his way, but he stands close anyway, until you can feel his breath huffing against the back of your neck.

“Okay, but you’re spending a lot of money stockpiling on things that haven’t shown signs of running out yet,” you explain, pointing at the window tint that had astonished Taehyung only a moment ago.

Jungkook grimaces, pink tongue swiping across his lip as he looks at the total amount he’s spent the last three months. “Well, it’s a good thing I have my accountant,” he grins, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Not your accountant,” you correct, “just a friend who doesn’t wanna see you run your business to the ground from overspending.”

Jungkook waves you off, and Taehyung tries to sneak into the receptionist office behind you, but Jungkook catches him with his free hand. “This is the life,” he sighs, wistfully gazing over the garage floor. It reeks of motor oil and car paint.

“Count me out,” Taehyung snorts, voicing your disinterest toward such greasy and smelly work. He tries to wiggle out of Jungkook’s hold, but the muscle bunny only straps an arm around his neck, until Taehyung’s squirming and clawing for air against the red sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“My own successful business, a shitload of sexy cars, and of course,” he pauses, squeezes the two of you tighter until you’re both groaning. “My two best friends.” The sap has the gall to peck the top of your heads, and that seems to be the final straw for Taehyung who rips himself away.

“Have this lovefest somewhere else, man,” Taehyung says, flattening his rumpled clothing down. “You’re really putting a nail in my reputation around here.”

Jungkook cackles, mindlessly goes to wrap himself around you from behind. “Your reputation has been trash since that scream you let out the other day,” he informs him, swaying the two of you back and forth. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you just barely manage to avoid Taehyung’s pointed stare.

“Whatever, I’m outta here.” With Taehyung peaced out, you’re left in Jungkook’s arms, gazing over his business like two old lovers. It makes your chest tight, so you quickly go to shake him off.

“We’re okay?” Jungkook murmurs, so soft you almost don’t hear. He’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb massaging over the bone there like he’s afraid you’ll bolt the second he lets you go.

You nod, tuck the clipboard to your side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Those sad puppy eyes, pouty lips turned southward. You want to wipe that look off his face. He sighs, glances at where your skin meets and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been an ass lately,” he settles on saying. “Said some mean things and ruined your bathroom rug—I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say.

Jungkook takes your silence as understanding, reaching down to hold both your hands in his slightly dirty ones. “It won’t happen again. I’d rather lose a million friends than lose you,” he confesses, and something about it feels too real, too raw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You nod, the constricting feeling in your throat only tightening when he smiles at you, those gentle eyes and plush lips for only you to see. You want to kiss him, swallow him whole. Right here on the garage floor so everyone knows he’s yours.

But you can’t because he’s not.

You settle on swinging your arms between you. “Just don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, narrowing your eyes playfully. There’s a heavy feeling in your heart, something akin to anguish, but you could never voice it out loud.

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises.

—

Jungkook visits again on a weekday, and you nearly send him straight home when he brandishes another bottle of wine in your face. “It’s nonalcoholic!” He exclaims before you can shut the door on him, foot lodged against the frame. You give in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, curling up on the couch in just your shorts and huge t-shirt. Jungkook pops the bottle open, pouring the wine into two limited edition Shrek 2 cups you pulled out from the depths of your cabinet.

“Can’t hang with my bestie?” He throws back at you, snatching the remote from your hands before you can click on another episode of that dumb housewives show. You end up watching National Geographic, some documentary about the role of bioluminescent shrimp in the sea.

“Aw look, they’re kissing,” he cooes at a pair of seahorses that wander across the screen halfway through a shot of some school of shrimp. “How romantic.”

“Wonder what that’s like,” you comment, not thinking too much on the meaning behind your words until you can feel Jungkook’s stare pierce your cranium. “What?”

“You’ve never been kissed?” He blurts, and you choke on your wine.

“You were my first kiss,” you remind him, flush at the memory of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on his bed, knees knocking in what was probably the worst first kiss in the history of first kisses.

Jungkook blinks. “Oh yeah,” he laughs. “With the Tony Hawk poster behind my bed, right?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook hums, and the two of you melt back into the silence. Nice aquatic sounds fill the room, the camera panning over more colorful fish that Jungkook oohs at appreciatively. You don’t really pay attention, more interested in the way the wine swirls in your cup and the way you can feel Jungkook’s thigh pressed against your knee, like when you were thirteen and trying something new.

You know it doesn’t mean a lot to him. Just another silly childhood memory of you. Not like you have hundreds, thousands of them with each other. By the way he’d blurted the question, you doubt he even remembered it most days. But you did.

It plagued your mind all the time, the soft feel of his mouth and the trembling hand that had held yours. You wonder if he kisses the same still, lips gently puckered. He’s had years to learn, half a decade to get creative with Sojin, and the past four years of being a bachelor to explore more.

You’ve kissed too, plenty of guys who had no meaning and ones you thought would replace him. But it’d been a long time since you’ve let anyone into your bed, more content to please yourself without the overbearing weight of feelings and emotions to wrap around your throat.

Jungkook coughs, and you shake yourself from your thoughts.

He’s looking at you inquisitively, like he can’t get his usual read on you and would rather just ask what’s wrong. “You don’t,” a pause, “hang out with guys?”

It’s devastatingly cute, the way he asks if you’re fucking, and you want to pinch his cheeks. Instead you shake your head, try to hide the grin on your face from his inquisitive expression. “Just you and Taehyung,” you admit.

Jungkook nods. “Do you and Tae…?”

You shake your head furiously. “No! God no, we don’t do anything like that,” you clarify, the thought of Taehyung in your bed enough to make you want to gag.

Jungkook says nothing, just turns back to the documentary to watch more Nemos and Dorys flit across the screen. You polish off your cup of wine, leaning forward to settle it back on the coffee table. As you settle back into the couch cushions, Jungkook speaks again. “So you take care of yourself?”

You freeze.

“Yeah,” you admit after one complete meltdown in your head. Where was this coming from? Why did he want to know? You and Jungkook were close, but you never did this. You never divulged the details of your sex life, never bragged about who you slept with or how many there were. What was going on?

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, just turns his attention back to the tv screen, where you’re almost certain the sea horses from before are fucking. Not that you know what it looks like, but you hope at least someone in this room was enjoying themselves and not drowning in the mortification of having their life long crush ask them if they masturbate.

“So, do you use your hands or a toy?”

You choke, slap your chest to ease the pounding of your heart at Jungkook asking such a question. “E-Excuse me?” You ask, scandalized that Jungkook, your sweet and caring childhood friend turned Fabio, could ask you such a bold question about your personal affairs.

“What?” Jungkook says, like he truly doesn’t see the inappropriateness of the situation. He even raises his eyebrows at you, as if urging you to answer the question.

You sigh, fight the flush of your cheeks and stare idly at the cups on the table. “A toy. Hands don’t feel good,” you curtly reply, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your legs off the couch, hoping that’s the end of his curiosity. This was enough to fuel your 3am anxiety meltdowns for the next five years.

Jungkook nods, and you can feel his penetrating gaze on the side of your face again. A great white shark swims across the screen. Jungkook strikes. “My hands feel good.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim in horror (and excitement, but you’ll pretend it wasn’t there). “What has gotten into you?”

“What!” Jungkook defends, Bambi eyes looking at you like you’re the unreasonable one here. “We’re having a civil conversation in which I’m trying to open up your worldview.”

You’re flabbergasted. “This is not a civil conversation, what are you even talking about?” You scold, tug your arms around yourself like it’ll actually protect you from the words that don’t seem to be filtering out of his mouth properly. “Why are you so concerned about that?” You interrogate, hope your forceful tone will scare him away.

It doesn’t. Jungkook shrugs, some noncommittal i dont know sound. “I can’t be interested in what you get up to? What my best friend gets up to?” It’s the obvious emphasis on best friend that makes you step down.

“No,” you sigh, rub a hand down your face. “You can be interested,” you tell him gingerly. “We just never really… talked about... those kinds of things,” you rush out, turn away from him as the narrator on screen dives into the intricacies of bioluminescent shrimp in the animal food chain.

As if sensing your discomfort, Jungkook softens, scooting closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, too close and too warm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, places a palm on your knee.

“I’m not!” You rush to assure him, facing him head on again. His eyes are big and implorative still, and you wonder why he became stuck on that of all things today. “It just surprised me.”

His lips quirk to the side, an unsure grin that has you leaning into his shoulder. You sit in silence, the rise and fall of his body with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

A false one that Jungkook zeroes in on.

The documentary’s wrapping up, soothing ocean sounds and wind instruments playing as the credits roll across the screen, when the hand that had been laying so comfortably on your thigh inches up. At first, you don’t notice it, writing it off as Jungkook just shifting around. You tell yourself it’s just that, until his pinky makes contact with the end of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn towards him, catch his mocha irises lustfully lidded as he toys with the hem. “Kook?” You murmur, so soft, barely there.

“Hm?” He replies, continuing to play with the edge of your shorts, until he gets brave and his fingers slip beneath, index finger just barely grazing the panties underneath. You gasp. “This okay?”

Stuck between your arousal and your common sense, you flounder for a response. He’s so close, and smells so good, curls brushing against your temple the closer he gets. You want him so bad, want him to find his place between your thighs and put those pouty lips to use. But you know it’ll make things different, change whatever it is you’ve had for the past almost thirty years, and you’ll never bounce back. Another brush against your panties, pointer finger wiggling it’s way beneath the fabric, and you’re choking out a “yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and something in your core tingles at the name, thighs clenching together. “Uh uh,” he chides, nudges them open. “Stay still for me,” he commands, and you do, for all of ten seconds, but then he’s pressing his finger on your clit, panties and shorts muting the sensation. Still, it makes you squirm, fingers clutching the couch cushion beneath you as you struggle to keep them open. “Too much?” He asks, and you shake your head no.

“I-It’s fine,” you whisper, and Jungkook smiles.

He pets you, almost wondrously, for a few beats, watches the way the muscles in your thighs twitch with every press against your mound. Eventually, he decides it’s enough. “Hands don’t feel good for you?” He inquires, your words from earlier obviously having left their mark on him. Slowly, you shake your head. He glances down at the fist you have on the couch, composed features sliding up your face. “Well, yours are so small, princess. Of course they don’t feel good.”

He manhandles you around, tugs you onto the couch until you’re laying down, legs sprawled on either side of him. Pleased with the arrangement, Jungkook glances back down to your bottoms. “These have to go,” he tells you, hooks his fingers in the waistband and abruptly yanks down, leaving you just in your t-shirt.

You go to shy away, but Jungkook stops you, palms resting on the insides of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin soothingly. “My fingers are long, see?” He says, raising a hand to wiggle his fingers at you. You nod, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “They’ll feel nice inside.”

You know they will.

You can tell he knows his way around a woman’s body just from the way his hands glide over yours, carefully like he’s mapping you out. Ever so slowly, one hand grows closer, until his thumb is gently circling your clit, and you inhale sharply.

“So wet,” Jungkook hums, his other hand traveling further down, until he’s spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, trailing them through the arousal that gathers there.

You’ve never been so attentively cared for, never had a man zero in on your cunt like it was his first meal in ages. Jungkook’s eyes are clouded with lust, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he watches your pussy lips flutter at his touch.

He swirls his hand over your clit, pressing down. The first sound escapes you, a soft whimper that has you clamping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Jungkook grins down at you, shifts closer to press a kiss to the knuckles over your mouth.“Don’t hide from me,” he purrs, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your neck.

You cry out when he gets back to it, massaging your pussy with gentle hands and a thumb against your clit to placate you. “Jungkook,” you choke out, and he beams at his name, takes it as a sign to finally slip two fingers inside. “A-ah,” you whine, arching beneath him.

He basks in your noises, leans close again to press a kiss beneath your ear, against your jaw. “This okay?” He murmurs, curling the fingers inside of you. You mewl, throwing your arms around him as he begins working you open. “How does it feel, baby?”

“G-good,” you pant, turn your head until you can bury your nose in his hair, drown even more in his all-consuming aura.

Another kiss to your neck, before he’s suctioning his lips right below your ear, nipping and sucking at the skin to brand you his. “You like my hands?” He husks, and the patch of saliva he leaves on your neck feels cold without his mouth there. You nod, and Jungkook rewards you with a soft smooch over the hickey he’s left.

His fingers inside you curl and scissor, brush against every inch of your walls until you’re quivering beneath him, gasping his name out. You could melt if his fingers weren’t holding you together. “So tight,” he groans, curling his fingers. The movement touches upon something sensitive within you, and you moan his name loudly.

“O-Oh,” you pant, wiggling beneath him as you try to feel that again. Jungkook lets you, watches you desperately rut into his hands. He drifts away, lets his tongue mouth over your breasts, licking until there’s a damp spot on your t-shirt, the flimsy house bra you’d worn and the t-shirt combined not enough to hide your pebbled nipples.

The drag of his hands against your pussy isn’t enough, the motions not quick enough. Jungkook glances at your twisted features, your quivering pussy, and then, ever so gently, ducks over you, puckered lips letting one, long glob of saliva touch down on your pussy, trickling around his knuckles.

“Fuck,” you choke, watch his tongue swipe over his lip to break the thin bridge that connects you too. Suddenly, everything is smoother, the combined lubrication of your arousal and his spit making the glide of his fingers sinfully slick.

Frantic for release, you lose yourself in him, ready to free fall into your pleasure so long as Jungkook is there to catch you. “That’s it,” he encourages, picks up the pace of his fingers inside you. “Come on, beautiful, let me see that gorgeous face of yours when you come.”

“K-Kook,” you sob, and he smiles against your neck. His fingers work fast, until your muscles are all pulled tight, waiting for that final push to unravel. You make the mistake of glancing down, only to be caught by that pearly smile and adoring gaze. You’re in heaven, you know you are.

There’s no other explanation for this—the way Jungkook holds you like you’re his, hands so gently caressing your most intimate parts. You’re almost convinced you’re having a fever dream, a sick, too realistic dream, but then Jungkook’s biting down on your shoulder through your t-shirt, subtly rutting against your thigh.

“Cum for me,” he purrs against your neck, and you do, sobbing as your orgasm rolls over you, the heavy weight of his cock against your thigh. “Jungkook,” you cry, so pitifully, it has him lunging forward, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth.

You feel sweaty and gross, unbelievably tired from the gentle way he opened you up. Blindly, you reach down, feel the hardness of his cock beneath his sweatpants, but Jungkook nudges you away. You huff. “Let me,” you whimper, reach for him again even though you can see the slowness in your movement. “Need your cock in my mouth,” you drawl, almost sleepily. 

“Shh,” he soothes, lips pressed against your neck, where he’s still licking and sucking over every inch of you. You whine. “You don’t have to do a thing, gorgeous,” he assures you, “just wanted to make you feel good.”

—

Work gets stressful shortly after. There’s a new batch of interns coming in this season, new faces who will mess up your coffee orders and jam the printers for a good few weeks. There’s normally a team of employees who train them, a mix of relatively older people from different departments who show them around; a girl in the finance department, the one who usually trains them, is on maternity leave. With no one else to fall back on, the head of the department pushes the duties off on you, claiming your flexibility and work ethic make you the perfect candidate for such a role.

Normally you’d thrive at the praise, eat up every single word like it sustained you. In a way, it did. It was nice to be appreciated and recognized for your hard work, to be thought of so highly, especially in a male-dominated company. However, this time, you know it’s out of convenience that the head kisses up to you, and you end up begrudgingly taking the role.

The gaps in your schedule you’d normally spend relaxing or catching up on other projects are filled with bumbling interns, calling for help every chance they get. It’s like they’ve never done anything on their own, this group, always asking you the correct way to do this, the right way to do that. You haven’t mentored interns in a while, so you spend the first day breezing over old powerpoints and print outs you made years ago. You remember why you’re not fit for mentoring when one of them asks you how to navigate Excel. You nearly rip their head off.

There’s so much going on, you barely get time to see Jungkook, let alone text him. You saw him once the morning after, stack of pancakes on your kitchen table as he rushed you off to work. The shop didn’t open for another hour. He was sweet, kissed your forehead as you left, but he’s always done that. You didn’t have time to talk about whatever the night before was, or what that made the two of you now.

On Friday night, one week into your nightmarish role, you pull into the shop. You'd like to convince yourself it was routine, visiting the shop, but that’s a lie. You desperately miss Jungkook. 

 Most of the garage doors that are usually pulled open during the day are shut, save for one. The last of Jungkook’s employees are leaving, bidding you adieu as you step out of your car. Park Jimin is there, repairing some rickety car in the back corner.

“Boo,” you call playfully, and Jimin doesn’t flinch, merely pulls his head from out of the hood to flash you an easygoing smile.

He whistles at the sight of you. “You look like you’ve been through one of helluva week,” he says, and you, despite your strong personality, feel yourself blush at his comment. Jeez, did you look that bad? Jimin doesn’t elaborate, just pulls out a stool for you to sit on beside where he’s working. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You glance at the plexiglass, the offices hiding down the hall. Jungkook could wait, you presume, settling down beside him. Your skirt tugs up as you settle onto the pleather seat, so you cover your legs meekly with your purse. “Work’s been crazy,” you explain, and Jimin laughs at the obvious.

“You’re telling me,” He hums, and you roll your eyes playfully. “What’s going on at work?”

What hasn’t been going on, you think to yourself, before launching into a full retelling of your new horrendous position, of all the interns with their clueless eyes and useless notebooks. Jimin chuckles, indulges you in a few comments here and there that only fuel you on. He’s just about done with whatever he’s doing to the car at the same time your story wraps up, explaining how you found yourself here, desperate for Jungkook to whisk you off to that arcade you loved as kids. “Jungkook?” He asks, and you nod. “He left a while ago.”

You freeze. “Huh?” You say, dumbly. You almost want to laugh at your own impulsiveness, for showing up without sending him a text or a warning to let him know you were coming. You almost do laugh, but then you remember you and Jungkook never did that anyway. Hell, he showed up at your house a few weeks ago unannounced and drunk. The two of you were hardly the type to plan ahead, so it was weird for him to not be here. He’s been at the shop almost every night since it’s opened, the days he’s not usually a holiday.

“Jimin…” you begin, glancing at the receptionist window once more. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin shuts his tool box, kicking a cart off to the side. “He left with that lady,” he tells you, doesn’t hear the way your heart rips straight out of your chest. No way. “Tall, pretty. Had that nice Corvette he fixed up a while ago.”

“Sojin,” you mumble, and Jimin nods.

“Think that was her name.” As if sensing your tumultuous thoughts, he steps closer, one hand reaching out to steady you. “You alright?”

“God,” you exhale, pushing yourself away from Jimin and the garage and the window. The stool rolls away, almost hits the side of another car but Jimin catches it. He rushes over towards you, watching you wobble in your heels.

“Honey,” Jimin says, steady and warm beside you. “Sit down for me, yeah?” He guides you to a row of seats against the wall, nailed into the floor so you can’t push them away and make even more of a mess. Not that that’s your concern, your mind and heart too preoccupied with thoughts of Jungkook lying to you, going out with that woman again, despite your obvious hatred for her and his promise to you.

Jimin disappears, rushes over to the other side of the garage before returning with a water bottle for you. He cracks it open, presses it into your hands, and then against your lips when you don’t move. “Drink,” he encourages, watching you with worried eyes that only grow more and more concerned the deeper you fall into your thoughts.

You want to cry and beat Jungkook up at the same time. You want to scream at him for lying to you after treating you so nicely, holding you so warmly. Instead, you gasp for breath, clutching your face in your hands like it’s the only thing that grounds you.

There’s a beep outside, chirpy and cute in the way only older models are, and you whip your head up, the headlights of the Corvette painting you in shades of yellow as it rolls to a stop, the tears you hadn’t felt glistening under the light.

Jungkook flings himself out of the driver’s seat, and a sob catches in your throat when Sojin steps out of the passenger seat. Jungkook shoves everything in his path to the side, carts flying into the few automobiles on the floor, tools clanging loudly onto the cement, and just as those arms you love so much are reaching out for you, there’s a hand on his chest stopping him.

“What did you do to her?” Jungkook snarls, pushing Jimin roughly to the side. Jimin, smaller but not weaker, holds his ground, clutching Jungkook by the material of his jumpsuit a second time. “Let— go!” Jungkook shouts, finally worming away from his employee.

He nearly trips before you, stumbling to his knees as he takes your quivering hands in his. “What’s wrong,” he asks, throwing a nasty glare back at Jimin who watches silently from the side. Sojin is still by her car, leaning across the driver’s side now. “What did he do, what did he say?”

You shake your head, dropping your head to tuck your chin against your chest. You hate this. Hate letting him or Jimin or Sojin see you cry. It’s not the person you are, not the self-made woman you claim to be as you cry over the same man who is unknowingly defending you from himself.

“Let go,” you whisper, hoarse and choked. You shake your arms, but he doesn’t let up.

“Tell me what's wrong,” Jungkook pleads, inching closer to you. His breath is warm and he smells like oil, just like he always does. He also smells sweet and floral in a way only a woman could. He smells like Sojin.

You sob, rip your hands away from and scurry blindly towards Jimin, who catches you in his arms despite the shock that paints his face.

Jungkook watches with an expression of hurt, watches you snuggle into the arms of another man over an issue you won’t tell him about. Jimin says nothing, just rubs his palm over your back. He gestures towards the red corvette, the woman standing by it and Jungkook takes the hint.

You hear the kitten-like purr as it pulls off, the silence that follows afterwards. You don’t know where Jungkook is, if he’s here or if he left with her, and you don’t want to. “Tell me he’s gone,” you beg Jimin, quiet gasps against his neck.

He nods, slowly lets you untangle yourself from his arms as the two of you stare over the empty garage. The Corvette is gone, and so is Jungkook. Before Jimin can tell you where he is, you’re wiping a hand over your face, embarrassed at the moisture it comes back with. 

“I take it he’s not supposed to be with her?” Jimin tries to joke. 

Neither of you laugh. 

You sniffle, process what just happened, how you acted. You’ve never felt that way before, never experienced such brutal heartbreak. 

You don’t know what you expected from Jungkook. In your heart, you convinced yourself what happened in your apartment was the start of something new between the two of you, a natural result of your long friendship. Realistically, you know you should’ve waited until the two of you spoke, discussed whatever happens next. But you’d spent the past week comforted by the fact you’d finally gotten to experience something like that with him, daydreaming about him every chance you got. 

Somewhere in your mind, you had convinced yourself your involvement with him would finally be what broke his connection with Sojin, the final nail that would make him forget about her. It’s painfully funny how such wasn’t the case. 

Jimin breaks you out of your thoughts. “You okay to drive home?” He gently inquires, and you turn your gaze over toward your car. 

Did you trust yourself to make it home without shedding a single tear? Absolutely not. But between Sojin and Jimin, you had let enough strangers see you fall apart over a man tonight. 

“Perfectly okay,” you tell him. 

—

The interns pick up on your sour attitude the week that follows. They don’t ask dumb questions, and don’t mess up your order. You talk them through a presentation, show them how to properly organize finance charts. There’s a slide that has clip art, a goofy dollar sign with a smile and shoes. Jungkook put it there when you first made the PowerPoint. After the little lesson, you go to the bathroom and try not to cry.

A week later, and the interns don’t need you anymore. They do well, and your boss praises you for being such a good mentor. You thank him and he lets you go home early.

Home is empty. Jungkook doesn’t show up unannounced, mostly because you’ve changed the number lock on the door. You want to eat salad today, for some reason, but don’t have any of the ingredients for it, so you walk to the supermarket a few blocks away.

The supermarket feels the same as it always does at night. That ghostly feeling of being watched in an empty aisle, the scratchy tune of whatever Top 50 radio station they settled on today. You get there and decide you don’t want salad anymore, so you buy ingredients for a stew instead, all of which you probably had at home.

When you step outside, the air around your bare thighs is cold. Summer was ending, which meant Jungkook’s birthday was coming up. You ball the receipt in your hand and fling it at the trash. You miss, so you hobble over to pick it up.

The trash is beside a red Corvette with two racing stripes.

“Hey,” Sojin says, arms crossed over her chest as she walks up behind you, sizing up your crouched form beside her car. “What’re you doing to my car?”

You breathe in, shake the crumpled up receipt at her, before stuffing it in the garbage. She says nothing as you stalk by her, and you’re back on the main road when she pulls up next to you, window rolled down to speak to you. “Get in,” she gestures, “it’s gonna rain.”

“No,” you say, and a fat raindrop falls right on your nose.

The door unlocks and you climb in, plastic bags crowded by your feet.

The drive is silent. You only live a few minutes from the store, and you point out an empty spot by the sidewalk for her to pull up to. A dry thanks is on the tip of your tongue, but you never get to say it.

“My dad has cancer,” Sojin says.

“That sucks,” you respond, feel bad right away and say, “I’m sorry.”

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by it, shifting the Corvette out of drive and cutting the engine. “He’s probably not gonna see Christmas,” she adds, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about her or her crazy father.  “I wanted to do something nice for him before he, y’know.”

“Died,” you fill, and at that she glares.

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Before he died. So I fixed up his car. But the place I took it to didn’t know how to fix an engine so old, and ended up fucking it up even more.” You nod, she continues. “Then I bumped into Jungkook and—“

“Took advantage of his kindness,” you finish, remembering the twinkle in his eyes when he’d told you about their encounter, that day in the empty garage that seemed lightyears away. “Well congrats. Hope your dad liked it,” you sigh, push open the door and get soaked to the bone immediately.

“Wait!” Sojin calls, hopping out after you. She’s still as beautiful as she was when you were seventeen, even with rain soaking her entire being. “I didn’t ask him to repaint it, but that’s what my dad loved the most.”

You want to go inside, make your stew, and cry in it.

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by the bangs that stick to her forehead or the water that washes down her spine. “When I told him Jungkook did it… he wanted to see him. Apologize and stuff.”

You snort. “Apologize,” you repeat, tightening your grip on your shoppings bags. “For what, Sojin? For almost killing him with this car or for treating him like shit for five years?” She says nothing, stares at the hood of the car like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “He was crazy for you, you know that? He would have done anything for you and not once did you stand up to your dad for him. You let that man call him worthless, stupid, a waste of space. And for what? For you to break up with him for some rich asshole who would never treat you half as good as Jungkook did?” You sneer.

The rain feels cold and your groceries feel heavier, so you whirl on your heel and make for your building entrance.

“He never liked me,” Sojin calls out, and you wonder if she even heard the second half of your emotional outburst. You turn to face her with fire in your eyes, and are only a little surprised at the sadness that paints hers. “He never liked me the way he said he did.” You could knock her teeth out.

“You’re stupid,” you spit, and she rounds the car at an insane speed until she’s glaring down at you over her perfectly sculpted nose.

“He never liked me,” Sojin repeats angrily. “He was always busy looking at you—for approval, for attention, I don’t fucking know. He would hold me and touch me but it never felt real. It always felt like practice for him…” she sniffles and your breath hitches in your throat. “We dated all through college,” she says like you don’t know, like you didn’t stress about it for years. “Everyday closer to graduation felt like a ticking bomb. Like he was just waiting for you to come back. To come home.”

You remember it.

The excited texts he’d send you everyday, the plans he made for you. Jungkook was more excited than your parents about you coming home. The five hours had done a number on him, and after four years all he wanted was to have you close again. You remember the hug in his driveway, the way his mom had told you he’d waited all day for you. It’s weird hearing it from Sojin.

Too overwhelmed, you decide to deflect. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur, and you’re surprised she hears it over the pouring rain.

A loud scoff. “You’re stupid,” she repeats back, jabbing a finger at your chest. You glare, and so does she. Like two animals in a cage you size each other up. “You’re stupid and ugly and I hate you,” she spits, and you drop your shopping bags to lunge at her.

You don’t swing, just grab her by the shirt and move to slam her against the wall, but she’s tall and a little strong, bony fingers wrapping around your wrists like spiders. “Why can’t you see how much he likes you?” She screams, like it hurts to admit it. “He’s been in love with you since forever, and all you’ve ever done is run away!”

“I never—“ you gasp, pushing her away from you. Sojin stumbles, but she doesn’t fall. “I’ve never run away,” you defend, heart beating in your chest too fast to be normal. “Some of us have careers and lives we want to live—I don’t want to depend on a man for the rest of my life!”

She growls, tugs at her wet hair like you’re giving her a headache. Stomping up to you once more, she pushes you hard with both hands, and you barely catch yourself in time. “He would have followed you to that fucking fancy school, but you told him it was better to save money here! Told him to not waste his time and just settle there! You did this to us—to all of us!”

You choke. Lightning flashes behind her, and for a moment all you can see is your gentle prodding, sitting behind him as he filled out applications, big wannabe business brain telling him the easiest way to save money for his auto shop was by going straight into technical school. The small frown on his face that day you’d packed for college, and the way he’d stood in your parent’s driveway until you couldn’t see him anymore, a little spec in your rearview mirror.

Sojin, sensing she’s made her point, says nothing. She scoops up your fallen grocery bags and shoves them into your trembling hands, stomping back to her car and pulling off with a roar, loud and ferocious, and nothing like a kitten.

The groceries in your bag end up in the trash.

—

Taehyung invites you to lunch one day, and you go. You’re starving and desperate to get away from work, where you’re paranoid everyone knows there’s something wrong with you. You meet up at a cute little bistro, and he smiles and hugs you when you arrive. You sit in comfort for all of two seconds before he jumps into his interrogation.

“What’s going on with you and Kook?” He asks, casually flipping through the menu. Your hand stills around your glass of water, and you eventually set it down without ever taking a drink. Your mind instinctively maps out a lie, but Taehyung has known you a while now, knows the quirk of your lips when you’re about to lie your ass off. “Don’t lie to me. I haven’t seen you at the shop in almost a month. And he doesn’t go out,” he mentions. “I think he spent four nights at the shop before I made him go home.”

You deflate.

Too embarrassed to explain, you flip through your own menu, and when the waitress comes you order the first words your eyes focus on. Taehyung doesn’t push you, just patiently gazes out over the bustling street.

Finally, you break. “We… did a thing.”

“Uh huh,” he nods, reading some ad on the side of a bus that passes by. “Need you to elaborate, babe.”

You squirm. “We… fooled around,” you say for lack of more appropriate wording. There’s a family sitting beside you, and you’d rather die than let some nooby pre-teen listen to the details of yours and Jungkook’s night.

“You fucked?” You choke, make a loud sputtering noise like it’ll drown out Taehyung’s voice to the other patrons. “What’s wrong with that? We all knew it’d happen sooner or later,” he shrugs.

“No,” you seethe. “We didn—I didn’t.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, the same way Sojin did that day on the sidewalk. You almost throw your glass of water at him. “We…” you sigh. “We did a thing, and then the week after he went out with Sojin.”

Taehyung scowls at the mere mention of her, so the glass of water is returned to its coaster. “Really? He went out with her right away? He’s cancelled.”

You nod, rubbing your hands over your face. “He… her dad has cancer and is literally on his deathbed so she wanted to fix up his car for memories sake, which he loved, so he wanted to apologize to Kook and thank him for fixing up his car,” you rush out, and now Taehyung chokes, water spewing out of his nose. You shriek, drawing everyone’s attention as you pat down your soaked blouse. “Tae!”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, wiping at the sting in his nose. “He-she, what?!” You ignore him, focus on battling the damp spot on your blazer. “God, that’s crazy,” Taehyung snorts, winces at the feeling in his nose.

After the two of you have settled, the manager kicks you out for your inappropriate conversations and childish behavior. You leave with your tails tucked between your legs. Taehyung holds your hand as he walks you back to your workplace, you quietly fill him in on all the other details surrounding yours and Jungkook’s fallout, from your breakdown in the garage to your weirdly dramatic confrontation with Sojin. “Well,” he claps, slamming a hand down on the traffic light button, even though both of you know it doesn’t work. “That explains a lot of things.”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing down the crosswalk when the light finally changes of its own accord. “Do you,” you pause, feet glued to the sidewalk. “Do you think she was right?”

Taehyung glances back at you, so small and unsure in the midst of a bustling crowd. He smiles, sweet and soft. Rare coming from him. His free hand ruffles the top of your head, and he brings you into his chest. “Babe, the hottest guy in your grade was intimidated by scrawny, pre-muscle bunny Jungkook. I’m pretty sure he feels some type of way towards you.”

Your lip wobbles dangerously, and you bite down on it to stop. Taehyung pats your head, barks at some old guy when he yells at the two of you for standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

When you’re outside your office, you speak again. “You were not the hottest guy in our grade, by the way.”

Taehyung snorts. “I totally was.”

—

You hideout for the rest of the week.

On Friday night, you finally have the balls to show yourself again, and you hop on the highway leading out of the city before you can overthink it. The buildings slowly melt away, replaced with cozier homes, tinier shops, and by the time you’re pulling up the street, you’re deep in doubt again.

It’s not that late yet, only a little past sunset, but the garage doors, usually open to the street, are all shut. You frown, pull around the block, reverse into a spot across the street. Locking your car, a gust of wind nearly trips you as you cross the street. The front office is dark, metal shutters pulled over the entrance.

Eventually, you stumble around until you find the tiny backdoor squeezed beside some dumpsters, grateful for the key Jungkook had given you so long ago.

Just as Taehyung predicted, a pair of red jumpsuit clad feet stick out from beneath a car. A nice car, an even older Corvette than Sojin’s dad’s, still shiny despite the model it is. It looks like a show car with the way it glints at you, black paint almost glossy. The only light in the entire garage is a lamp, positioned over the area where the legs are working, and a flashlight that occasionally beams at you when the holder loses his grip. No music today, just the hum of a rotating fan. You creep over.

Jungkook’s humming a song when you get to him, foot tapping idly on the ground. You suck in a deep breath and nudge his foot with the tip of your heel. You have exactly two seconds to jump away when he abruptly rolls out from beneath the car, concentrated features scanning quickly around until they land on you.

The garage is still, until Jungkook jumps into action. “___,” he stammers, stumbling to his feet. The rolling board drifts away, bumping into the corner of the metal table beside you. “Hi, um,” he flounders, brushing his fingers through his hair, palms wiping over the front of his pants. Finally, “hi.”

The bad bitch Chanel skirt-suit you’d worn today fails you for the first time in a long time. Your hands feel sweaty, so you clutch them behind your back. “Hi, Jungkook,” you exhale, and all the emotions you’d swallowed for so long, the feelings that tightened around your chest and throat like boa constrictors, come oozing out, until all you can see is his puckered mouth and twinkling gaze.

He coughs, tries to casually lean against the car, but greatly miscalculates the distance. “What, um, what brings you here?” He asks, foot tapping nervously against the ground.

There’s a box of takeout on the floor he tries to subtly kick beneath the car, and a plastic bottle of soda that makes a loud noise when he tries that too. You twist your lips, watching the anxious shuffling of his feet. You breeze over his question, plaster a tight smile into your face, and ask your own question; “how long have you been here?” Tentatively, you lower yourself onto a rolling stool. “It’s late,” you state the obvious.

Jungkook’s leg bounces, and he pats his hand over it nervously. “Um, an hour? Just working on something,” he answers, cheeks warm as his eyes flicker everywhere but you. “What brings you here?” He repeats, and you know you can’t deflect it this time.

Shrugging half heartedly, you wait for him to finally look at you. When he does, he almost looks away but the glint in your eye stops him from doing so. “We need to talk,” you finally say. Jungkook visibly deflates, lips pulling into a thin line. You contemplate letting him relieve his thoughts first, but you came here with a point to make, for questions that needed answering, and you’re scared one word from him will wash them all away.

“Listen,” you start, smoothing your hand over the edge of your skirt. “I know something weird happened between us, and then I kinda freaked out on you, but… I need you to tell me the truth.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”

You swallow, try to push back the frustration that builds in his throat. “Did you ever even like Sojin?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?” A snort. “You’re joking,” he snickers, wipes at faux tears in the corner of his eyes, before your unsmiling face registers and he’s schooling his features. “___, I did like her. I dated her for five years. How could I not like her?”He says seriously, like he can’t believe you would ever question such a thing. 

You exhale, pick at your fingernails. “I met her,” you admit, and Jungkook’s face twists in confusion. “At the supermarket last week. She said you never liked her.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Of course she’ll think that—we’re exes. I doubt she remembers all our best memories,” he sighs, turning back to organize his tool cart like he’s done with this conversation.

Raising to your feet you call his name again, and he hums absentmindedly. “Sojin said you never liked her because you were always chasing after me,” you accuse, laying all your cards out on the table. Your claim startles him, and you watch as he jostles half the tool cart with his surprise.

“She, what?” He huffs, cheeks as red as his jumpsuit. He forces out a laugh, airy and tight like you’re starring in your elementary school play again and the nerves are eating him up. “I-I don’t know why she’d say that.”

He’s flustered, obviously so, as he scoops the metal tools back onto the cart, bumping into three other things before settling back down on the floor to roll under the car. He pushes himself under, and you sternly call out, “Jungkook.” He freezes.

You strut over, brush your hands behind your skirt as you crouch beside him. “Always,” you quietly remind him. Jungkook says nothing. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve grossly misread the situation, if this was just another one of her schemes to drive the two of you apart.

Slowly, Jungkook appears from under the car. There’s a new stain on his cheekbone, brown and slick. He sits up, wide eyes tracing over your features likes he’s trying to seal them in his memory. “Yeah,” he admits, lips twisting as he watches the surprise take your features, before he’s lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, leaving you to stare at the column of his neck.

“I do,” Jungkook admits, pushing through his emotions. It’s hard for him to confess, you realize, watching the way his Adam’s apples contracts and his jaw twitches from having to say so. “I like you so much it hurts.”

His confession leaves you feeling weird. On one hand, you want nothing more than to spring yourself on him and kiss his face until the stray oil marks are gone and replaced with the outline of your lipstick prints. You want to smother him and hold him, let him know he’s yours, always has been.

On the other hand… it’s sad. Going on thirty years and never did the two of you guess your feelings for each other. You doubt either of you are good at hiding them, with the way everyone seems to have known except you two. Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you.

A hand touches your knee, and you return your attention to his downtrodden appearance, chin tucked against his chest. “Please,” he murmurs. “Say something.”

You say nothing.

Tentatively, you reach a hand out, run it along the side of his head, through his mane, chocolate waves touching his cheekbones. He almost looks like when you guys were kids, round eyes watching your every move. Your hand continues down the back of his head, cupping the nape of his neck comfortingly. Jungkook leans into the touch, even though his shoulders are tense. You soothe your fingers over the tight muscles in his neck.

“Since when?” You inquire.

Jungkook blinks, lets your palm trace along his jawline and cup his cheek. “Since you dated Taehyung when we were sixteen.”

Mentally, you curse every deity in existence for putting Kim Taehyung in your life. “God,” you groan, burrowing your hands in your palms. Jungkook, surprised by your reaction, rolls closer, moves around until you’re crouched between his long legs. “Since me and that pinhead dated for twenty minutes?” You repeat.

Jungkook shifts closer, rubs your back. “It was 65 hours, actually,” he corrects, and the exact duration of your relationship makes you cringe. “I… counted.”

Small and shy, almost embarrassed. You glance back up at him. “Why?” You prod, and Jungkook’s cheek flush, palm stilling.

“Uh,” he starts. “I was nervous? That you two were in it for the long run. And I, I don’t know. It was easier to just count,” he lamely finishes, and his dangly earring whips around with him when he avidly avoids your gaze.

You sigh, catch his hand in yours. “Tae and I would have never lasted,” you tell him, remembering all the times the guy made you pick him up from one night stands in the last few years. “He wasn’t who I wanted.”

His foot jumps, toe tapping against the wheel of the car next to you. He wants to ask, you know he does, but Jungkook was quite possibly the only other person on this planet who could overthink something more than you.

Deciding to ease his worries, you give his hand a squeeze. “It was you,” you confess, feel like an elephant lands straight on your chest. “It is you,” you correct.

His forehead knocks against yours, hard, and you hiss at the bump that probably forms. “What the fu—“

“Tell me it’s not temporary,” Jungkook pleads, eyes crinkled in worry. You’re going cross eyed from trying to look at him like this, so you flit your eyes off somewhere to the side. His hand is heavy in yours. “Tell me you’re not just doing this for closure, or because you want to see what it would have been like, please,” he begs, “that would be so fucked up, because I’m so in love with you I actually think I might die.”

The dramatic confession makes you painfully warm. You nod, your lower lip trembling at the way he looks at you, like you single-handedly controlled this entire world with a flick of your wrist. “I-I love you too,” you parrot back, the first time you’ve ever said it, the millionth time you’ve ever thought it.

Jungkook visibly relaxes, pulls away from you to drop his head on your shoulder instead. Your legs are starting to cramp from the tight crouching position, ankles wobbly in your heels. His hair smells good still, despite the hours he’s probably spent beneath a car, and you gingerly pat the back of his head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and you repeat it. “I love you,” he says again, and you repeat it. “I lov—“

“Me, yes, I’ve heard,” you cut him off, smile at the snort he releases, and when he turns his head, his lips brush against your neck. You’re instantly thrown back a few weeks, to that night on the couch with the limited edition Shrek 2 cups and the wine; the gentle touches that left you trembling for weeks. You inhale quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.

His eyes are too soft, face too relaxed as he stares at you. “My legs hurt,” you tell him, quickly getting up. You whirl around, facing the car and digging through your purse like you suddenly have something to do.

“Oh,” you gasp, watch two arms wind around your waist, the dirty red jumpsuit contrasting against the tweed material of your high-end Chanel jacket. Jungkook sighs lovingly by your ear, snuggles his face into your neck. “W-we should go out,” you blurt, nerves jumping when he squeezes tighter, burrows closer. “To celebrate!”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah?” His voice is too low. You’re in trouble. “Celebrate what?”

You squirm, breath catching in your throat when he presses you closer against the hood of the car. “Um,” you shakily exhale, hands splaying out over the sleek surface of the black hood to steady yourself. It’s so shiny you can almost see your reflection. “U-Us!” You finally manage to exclaim.

A kiss against the side of your neck, and your spirit just about exits your body. Your knees feel weak, and you're just about ready to throw another mediocre excuse his way, when something warm and wet traces up the column of your neck. “Kook!” You gasp.

“Shh,” he murmurs, deep voice instantly soothing over your nerves. His hips nudge against your behind, and you jump at the bulge that presses against your lower back. One hand unwraps from around you, gliding down your arm sensually until he’s trapping your fingers on the hood of the car with his own. A swift kiss against your ear. “You owe me, remember?”

You flush, remember the filthy promises your list-addled brain has spewed that night at your house, the almost erratic development of your thoughts as you became consumed in the thought of him. Reminisce on the prod of his fingers against your cunt, his hot breath against your ear.

Suddenly, Jungkook whirls you around, traps you with his gaze as two hands flutter to rest on the small of your back. He’s looking down at you with those lovesick eyes, hooded with lust as they trace over the dip of your Cupid’s bow. “You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” A soft brush of his mouth against yours, pouty lips guiding you through a kiss, until you’re sighing against him, and he’s pulling away.

Numbly, you nod, almost hypnotized by the soft smirk that overtakes his features as he pushes you down, watches you sink to your knees before him. The concrete feels cold and hard beneath your knees. His jumpsuit is knotted around his waist, and you shakily unravel it, the elastic waistband staring you in the face afterwards.

“Take your time,” Jungkook croons, hand coming to rest on the side of your face, knuckles brushing over your skin delicately.

You tug it down, and one flash of that underwear band has your nerves flying out the window. You shove his t-shirt out of the way, let your hands trail over the ridges of his abdomen in your haste. He helps you by tugging it over his head. With that gone, his black boxers stare you in the face, and you yank those down with no hesitation.

“Jesus, baby,” Jungkook chuckles, though it’s choked off when you grasp his engorged cock in his hand. You should be surprised, marveling at the sight, considering it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. But you brain is working overtime, too immersed in the vein that runs alongside it and the tip that throbs back at you. Later you can worship it, you think. Right now, you needed it down your throat.

The tip is flaming and swollen, his cock still growing plump in your hold, your hands slowly dragging up and down the length. You lean forward, press a gentle kiss below the mushroom head, trail kisses down the length until you're meeting your knuckles, and trail them back again. Jungkook sucks in a tight breath, leans to rest his palms on the car behind you, as he watches you on him.

A head of precum escapes, and you lunge for it, swirl your tongue in and around the slit on his cock, until his entire body tenses up. “Fuck,” he grunts, watches you ease his cock into your mouth. You groan at the stretch, the drag against the corners of your lips making your eyes roll backwards. “___, baby, a little more?” He asks, voice hoarse as he watches you sink down further on his cock.

You comply, close your eyes and focus on relaxing your throat. There’s a hand on the back of your head, impatiently pushing you down his length. “Shit,” he cries, unconsciously ruts against you. You gag, and he shushes you with a caress against your cheek. “Sorry,” he huffs, “just a little more for me, okay?”

Eyes squeezed shut tightly, you let him push you down until his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t take anymore. The prod against your throat has tears springing to your eyes. “Gonna move now,” Jungkook announces, thumb brushing away the tears that collect in the corners. “Be good.”

He drags himself out, your saliva coating every inch of him, and when just the tip is resting on your tongue, he shoves back in. You whimper, palms digging into his thighs. Jungkook brushes a hand down your hair, soothes you for all of two seconds before he’s pulling out and doing it all over again. He picks up the pace, loses himself in the feeling of your hot mouth around him, tongue dragging over his cock.

The feeling in your throat burns, each thrust of his hips against your mouth making your jaw more and more sore. But god, it feels good to have him so close, his scent swarming your sense, groans like music to your ears. You want to please him, want him to feel as good as you did at your place. You want it even more now that you know how he feels, know he’s probably thought about this before.

A brutal thrust has you gagging, throat contracting around his length. “Shh,” Jungkook sighs, the fingers buried in your hair flattening out to run over your head. “Doing so good for me, beautiful.”

You bask in the praise, let a hand flutter down to the apex of your thighs, pressing down to relieve some of the pressure. Jungkook groans, rolls his hips against you and keeps you there for a second. Your throat spasms, his dick pressed hotly against it, and you feel your panties grow embarrassingly sticky. Eventually, he draws back out.

“You like this?” He hums, rutting against you faster now, nose brushing against the sparse hairs on his pelvis with every slam of his hips. You nod around a gag, eyes clouding with tears, lips slippery with saliva and precum. One particular thrust is so hard, it nearly sends you knocking back into the car, Jungkook’s hand on the back of your head barely saving you. “Fucking hell,” he spits, “look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat, princess.”

You moan around him, feel a subtle twitch against your tongue before he’s pulling himself out. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing you away as he goes to grab his own dick in his hand, tugging at it like a madman. “Wh-Where?” He asks, and you stare dumbly at the sight of him playing with himself, almost don’t realize he’s asking you a question.

You take too long, scramble for words too long, and even if you did have one your throat is far too sensitive yo answer. Jungkook grows impatient. Pulling you closer by the collar of your Chanel suit jacket, tugging it open until the flimsy buttons snap, and the tank top you wore beneath comes into view. He aims the tip of his cock towards your sternum, and a few jacks later, he’s coming, cum spurting against your chest. You watch the cum trail down between the valley of your breasts, until the feeling comes to rest against the inside wire of your bra, sticky and gross, sliding along the underside of your boobs. “Shit,” Jungkook repeats, eyes furrowed over you.

Your knees ache, and you nearly trip when you stand up, steadying yourself against the side of the car. Jungkook seems to regain his sense by then, hand trailing around your waist. You meet his eye, and almost immediately turn away, the blood in your face rapidly rising.

Jungkook laughs. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, gets too close and your noses bump. “Sorry,” he smiles, too shiny and bright for the sinful acts you just committed in an auto shop.

“Put your dick away,” you huff, let him nuzzle closer to you, and when he doesn’t move to tuck himself into his pants, you go do it for him.

Jungkook frowns, swats your hand away. “This dick has places to be,” he informs you, and you scoff.

“Refractory period,” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m not exactly gonna stick it in you this instant,” he drawls. “Gotta stretch you out first.”

You go to complain, tell him he doesn’t have to over exert himself. Truthfully, with Jungkook you feel like one good session was enough to sustain you for weeks. After last time, your skin had flowed for an entire week. But then his hand is slithering up your backside, sneaking under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass.

There’s quickly drying drool collecting at the corners of your mouth, saliva from when he’d fucked your throat just a few moments prior, that he kisses away. His mouth slots over yours, and your heart and pussy both flutter at the kiss.

It’s gentle and sweet for all of ten seconds, his mouth moving against yours until you feel the wet press of his tongue against your bottom lip, tracing along until you open your mouth. He wastes no time shoving his tongue past your lips, letting it dance with yours as he pulls you closer, hands gripping the globes of your ass. You let him lick his way into your mouth, more and more saliva catching in the corners of your mouth until he’s pulling away with a wet pop.

He pulls away, doesn’t stray too far, proud smirk crossing his features at the sight of your slicked lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, tongue mindlessly swiping over your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes track the movement. “The saliva,” he clarifies. “The spit. You liked it at your place too,” he reminisces, moving in on you again. “Liked watching me slobber and spit all over your body. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You blush, discreetly rub your thighs together. “I-I do,” you admit, willing the warmth of your face away because at this distance he must certainly feel it.

Jungkook nods, doesn’t say anything else as he captures your lips a second time. He doesn’t bother with the gentle prodding anymore, jumping straight into tongue right away. He’s messier, letting his saliva coat your lips and drip down your mouth, and as messy as it is, you love it. You whimper when he pulls away, but gasp when his hand tugs at the hair by the nape of your neck, pulling you back until you’re looking up at him.

“Open,” he murmurs, and you do, tongue pressing against your bottom lip.

It should be disgusting, the rev of his throat, the sound of his saliva collecting, and the way his jaw shifts when he’s got enough. It should be filthy, the way he shoots it down your open lips, the way it splatters against the back of your throat. It should be gross, but god do you love it. “Swallow,” Jungkook commands, and you do, feel his spit drip down your throat like it’s your own, whimpering at the feeling. A quirk of his lips. “Good girl.”

You have to bite down the pride that grows in your chest.

Jungkook’s hands continue their mapping out of your behind, eventually ending with a hard squeeze that has you squealing. Automatically, your back arches in surprise, breasts pressing against Jungkook’s chest. He smirks down at you.

“Bet you taste good,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Let me taste?”

“Please,” you beg, nearly losing your shit when he lifts you up onto the car, the cool metal making you jump, heel on your foot nearly kicking the side view mirror clean off. “Wait, Jungkook,” you sputter, glancing down at the sleek metal. “This is someone’s car.”

Jungkook ignores you, pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. His palms run up your legs, over your thighs, until they’re toying with the hem of your skirt. Mocha eyes glance up at you, as if daring you to question him again, so you promptly zip your lips shut. The skirt goes, ever so slowly, over your thighs, bunches up at your waist until he’s staring at your lace panties.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose faintly brushing against your skin. The kisses trail over your skin, until he’s hovering over your panties, and he’s staring like a man starved. He gives no warning, suddenly leaning down to press his mouth over your party-clad folds, nose flush against your clit. “Kook!” You squeak, hands flying to clutch at his hair.

Jungkook mouths at you, drags his tongue against your panties until they’re soaked in both your essence and his saliva, just how you like. A hand slithers around your leg, wrapping around until he’s got a firm grip on it that he uses to hold it open.

“J-Just take them off,” you gasp, squirm when his mouth moves towards your clit, lapping against you. “Please,” you cry.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook tortures you with those kitten licks, muted through your panties, until you’re begging him to stop, to take them off and do it right. He loves it, you can tell, dazzling smile peeking up at you every time you tug against his hair, until finally, he’s had enough.

The underwear comes off, dangling uselessly by your ankle, and then the show really begins.

“Wait,” you choke, head falling back against the hood of the car when he finally gets his mouth on you, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. The niggling reminder that this is some stranger’s car he’s eating you out on rings in your brain, and perhaps that’s what makes it more exciting.

His mouth is warm, tongue flicking over your sensitive bud like it’s candy and he needs the sugar. The sounds are so loud and wet, the squelching of your pussy every time he pulls off a pop that resounds throughout the garage. He pampers your clit for what seems like hours, switching the movements of his tongue every time he gets the chance until you’re quivering.

When you think he’s done, he’s not.

Fingers slide up your thigh, featherlight, as they reach your drenched cunt. They drag over your lips, and you mewl, feeling the muscles jump and tighten at his touches. “Jungkook, please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, but it’s hard and everytime you move, you feel the sweat on your skin weigh you down, glued to the metal beneath you.

The first finger breaches you, just the tip of his index slowly wiggling inside. You muffle a moan in your palm, and Jungkook pulls away with a huff. “No hiding,” he warns, slowly lowering back to your cunt with a stern glare. You nod, but can’t help it when his second finger pushes its way in and you bite down on your knuckles.

“Oh,” You sob, body quivering as he begins scissoring his two fingers inside you. With your attention focused on the digits sheathed inside you, he pulls away from your clit, bestowing one final kiss against it that has your foot kicking out wildly. “Th-there.” His other hand catches your palm in his, presses it against the metal by your head.

Jungkook smiles, curls his fingers around until he finds the soft spot inside you that turns you to jelly. “There we go, beautiful,” he purrs, pushing himself to his full height, leaning over your trembling form. “So sweet for me,” he sighs, licks his lips like he’s remembering your taste.

“I'm gonna,” you choke, become hypnotized by the dark cloud in his gaze, the arrogant smirk on his lips. He curls his fingers, palm brushing against your abandoned clit. The touch makes you jump, nerves tingling.

“Cum for me,” he encourages, silky tone swarming your head as your pleasure slowly washes over you. It’s probably the most relaxed orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, his low voice and delighted eyes guiding you through it, until your entire body clenches, dissolving in a puddle of contentment. Your arousal surges around his fingers, trickling down onto the metal.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you pant, overwhelmed from the touches and the kisses. Jungkook’s smile gets swallowed by your greedy mouth, desperate for more kisses now that he’s made you feel like this.

The kisses only placate him for so long, and when he presses his body against yours, there’s an awfully hard cock that slides against your dripping cunt. “Think you can go again, gorgeous?” He murmurs against your jaw, nipping at the skin on the way down. You nod, eyes falling shut at the warmth you feel in your bones.

Jungkook kisses your neck one last time, before leaning back once more to line himself up.

This was a scene straight from your teenage fantasies, a dripping, shirtless Jungkook at full mast between your thighs, looking at you so lovingly. It makes your heart thunder, imagining how long you could have been doing this if you weren’t both so stupid. As if reading your thoughts, Jungkook rubs a palm over your thigh, eyebrow quirked. You nod his concern away, squirm closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your hole.

“Fuck,” Jungkook sighs, moving his hands to your hips as he slowly pushes in. His fingers, bless their intentions, could have never prepared you for the size of Jungkook’s cock, thick and veiny as it pushes inside. You whimper, clawing at the hands on your waist that stop you from impaling yourself on it fully. “Waited so long for this.”

“Then fucking do it,” you beg, nearly pass out when he shoves in harshly at your tone. “J-Jung—“

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, jostles you until you’re flush against his cock, clit brushing against his pelvis. Your back arches, and Jungkook slips his arm around you, the other lingering on your waist.

Every subtle shift has him brushing along your swollen clit, and you sob at the sensation, begging him to move. He complies, changes his stance to make it easier, and finally begins thrusting into your throbbing pussy.

“So good,” he huffs, eyes zeroed in on where the two of you meet. You would have looked too, if your body hadn’t felt so completely boneless beneath him, the grinding of his cock sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. “So pretty and mine.”

“Yours,” you choke, heart swelling in your chest at his words. It’s almost animalistic, the way he ducks down to bite at your neck, like some animal staking its claim, and you like it. You like it because it’s all you ever dreamed of for so long. “Faster, Kook,” you urge, wrapping your arms around him.

He does as you say, slow and careful thrusts transitioning into a fast piston that would have had you bouncing out of his reach if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. “Fuck,” he chokes, lost in the way you clench around him, lips dragging against his cock with each thrust. “Baby,” he grunts, sweat trailing down his temple, eyes furrowed shut. Eventually, his head falls into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you uncomfortably, subtle ridges on the hood making you ache. At this point, you’re too far gone to care. “All I ever wanted,” he gasps.

You could cry, right now and he’d pull out right away, big heart fretting over your emotional well-being. Which is exactly why you hold your emotions in, let yourself get fully immersed in the feeling of Jungkook pounding you against some stranger’s car and not the inevitable emotional crash you’ll have later.

He fucks like he’s waited all his life for this, and you guess he sort of has if what he’s saying is true. You have no doubt it is, and when his lips suck a mark against your neck, you feel like you’re in heaven. “Almost,” you pant, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. Jungkook nods, his hair tickling your jaw and neck, as he picks up the pace. Your cunt swallows him up every single time, suctions him in until he’s shaking, and so are you.

It can only last for so long, your heart and body eventually reaching their peak, and you unravel. His arms are there to catch you, to pick up the pieces and hold you together. You want to cry, you really do, and when the coil in your stomach snaps, you finally do. “I love you,” you sob, and Jungkook shudders, glances at your tear-struck face to push himself off.

“Love you too,” he mumbles, grinds his cock against your spasming folds one last time, and comes mid-thrust, cum spurting inside you. He holds you, just like you knew he would, as you come down from your highs, hot breath fanning across your skin.

You feel warm, loved, and in love, body trembling in sensitivity afterwards. He’s pulled out since, soothingly rubbing a hand against your side. You’d like to say you wouldn’t be anywhere else, but one shift reminds you of where you are.

“Shit,” you groan, taking in your surroundings before letting your head fall back against the hood. Jungkook hums, round eyes looking your way. “We really just confessed and had sex on some stranger’s car.”

Jungkook snorts, leans away just the slightest to look you in the eye. He’s lost in thought, chocolate irises swirling as they drink you in. “Say thanks to Taehyung,” he finally says.

You roll your eyes, and when you shift beneath him, your sweaty skin sticks uncomfortably against the metal hood. “Yeah, let me thank Taehyung for dating me for three days and awakening your crush,” you huff sarcastically, resigning yourself to your new life stuck against the hood of some classic automobile from the 50s. Jungkook laughs, tucks himself back into his underwear. “Thanks Taehyung, for your noble sacrifice ten years ago that allowed me to fuck Jungkook on some stranger’s car—“

Jungkook hums, snuggles closer to you. “Tae’s car.”

“—after confessing our—Taehyung’s car?” You shriek, sitting up with the strength of three football players, Jungkook toppling off you. “Oh my god. No.” Jungkook rubs his elbow where he knocked it against the hood, looks at you with solemn eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawls over his features. “No,” you gasp, mortification crawling up your spine. “We didn’t.”

He tugs you off the car, tugs your skirt down when you wobble on unsteady heels. “Yup,” he says, pops the end of the word like a child. “Say hello to Taehyung’s new car!” He exclaims, patting the hood you just defiled. “Straight from the car auction he went to this morning,” he beams.

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands when you finally spot the puddles of... something on the black hood. “This is terrible.”

Jungkook ignores you, wipes up the mess with some napkins from his takeout bag, but there’s already some that's dried, only fueling your mortification. “Not like he’ll find out,” he shrugs, then narrows his eyes at you. “Or will he?”

“No!” You stutter, carefully rounding the car as if inspecting it for any more signs of the treacherous things you and Jungkook did on or around it. “I-I won’t tell him.”

“Uh huh,” Jungkook teases, settles on that rolling stool and pushes himself towards you. There’s a hand easing itself around your waist, tugging you between open legs. Still in shock, your hands flutter around his neck, muscle memory causing you to immediately begin massaging the skin there.

Jungkook sighs into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Too bad Jimin’s not here,” he sighs, and you visibly see his nose grow in arrogance. 

“What? Why should Jimin be here?” You ask, pushing your fingers against the knots in his neck. 

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed, one-eyed glare. He scoffs, “maybe you are as dumb ad Taehyung says.” And then, “hey!” when you tug his ear. He isn’t upset, just tugs you closer until his face is buried against your stomach. “You know country folk like him marry on the spot right?”

“What are you even saying,” you huff, burying your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his head back to properly look at him. “Why do you care who Jimin marries?” He doesn’t bother answering. 

Instead, Jungkook sighs into the touch, an easygoing smile thrown your way, and for a moment you forget about the trauma Taehyung will have when he inevitably learns about this. “This is the life.”

[cinnamonest]

Okay but imagine... adoptive mother reader with Chongyun, Bennett, Razor and Xingqiu. This can be linked to that thought you once posted about the boys (Chongyun and Xingqiu) barely young adults and reader being something of a Guhua expert or an exorcist (and a little bit of those mommy headcanons lol)

So, this is settle with the boys a little bit younger, reader is a promising adventurer who despise being so young (early 20s) She have traversed half of Teyvat and made a name of herself. She comes back to Monstadt to see old faces and such.

She first arrives to Liyue and decides to rest for the day. She's strolling around the harbour, watching what's new and saying hi to old friends, when two boys running at high speed crashes against her and fall to the ground. Being the nice person she is, she helps them up and offers to take care of their bruises, to which they reluctantly accept bcs you have to always be wary of strangers.

While she patches them up, she starts to tell them stories of all the places she's been, noticing how the kid with amber eyes shine at the mention of she being in contact with a Real Guhua master (even if it was for only a month or so, but it is still impressive) and that she has a couple of books about the art and such.

Seeing his friend's happy reaction, the other boy with baby blue hair shares a bit of himself, and the small gasp that he lets out when the gentle traveler tells him she has seen a demon before! And even better, she got a charm from a successful exorcist from a far away land! How cool is that!?

After taking care of them, reader buys them a treat and guides them towards the inn she's staying to fetch up the items brought up in the conversation. When she gets back and gift them the items, the excitement that overcomes them was enough to jump and hug the kind lady, but the emotional moment was short lived as a young man similar to the kid with prussian blue hair and a older man with the same cat-like eyes as the aspiring exorcist approach them and retrieve their brother and son respectively, thanking the adventurer for looking out after them.

As morning comes and reader leaves at the crack of sunrise, it finally register in her mind that she never got the name of those two cute kids. Meanwhile, said pre-teens were musing about the same thing as the female, but what she didn't know is that her actions would actually leave a mark on these two for the years to come.

The travel from Liyue to Monstadt was beautiful but tiresome. A wave of nostalgia punches her on the stomach as the first batch of small lamp grass caught her attention, signaling that she has finally settled foot on the wildest part of the realm of freedom.

Trees grow thicker and small springs sprinkled here and there, the young female's pace quickens as she comes to terms that she won't make it today to the city, and it's wiser to camp out outside Wolvendom. As beautiful and relaxing the scenery was, she has enough sense to not turn a blind eye to the several claw marks and noises that she has spotted and hear throughout her walk.

Finally, after almost sprinting for a while now, the exit of the forest makes itself visible, and with a small sigh she slows her pace to walking speed. She was about to reach the Waypoint when a rustle from a nearby bush caughts her attention.

With only slowing down a little bit, she turns her head to the source of the noise, body tense and hand on her dagger just in case it was a Hilichurl or a Wolf. But what a surprise it is, when rather than eyes catching rough grey fur or a mask, a young boy with eyes as sharp as the furred beasts she's being weary of meets her surprised orbs instead. There's a certain curiosity in that ruby gaze, but she couldn't appreciated them more as she took notice of the whole human being in front of her.

What little clothes he had, they were all in a shameful state. The wind picked up and a gust of cold breeze touched the two humans, but only one of them shudder at its touch.

Seeing that, the female removed there coat and slowly, approached the boy. He took a couple of steps back and a snarl arises from his throat, hopping to stop this strange human from getting any closer. The female got the message, and crouched to meet his eyes on a same level.

She extended the hand holding the jacket, and with a patience of a saint, waited until the kid shuffled by his own to sniff the offered item. The female smiled, and was about to say something, until a howl broke the silence, and the boy clutching the jacket jumped from his spot, sprinting at a remarkable speed to were the noise came. He only stopped to turn around a give a small wave to the female, just to dissappear through the dense foliage that compose Wolvendom.

The adventurer dusts her clothes, and wishes the bests of lucks to the kid before returning to her destination.

That night, after finding comfort on one of the lone red tents meant for travelers, the Sound of small footsteps on grass alerts her and she rises from her almost slumber, only to find a small bunch of wolfhooks beside the tent.

Just like how she did in Liyue, when the first rays of sunrise emerged from the horizon, she sets off to the city.

After half a day of walking, the gates of her hometown greets her as she walks down the bridge, a small sigh of happiness escapes her as she takes in the sight of the streets she grew up in.

Her first stop was the to the adventurer's guild. As she greets and waves to old friends, the boisterous laugh of a man caughts her attention, turning her head to look at the source of the voice.

Her eyes widened and a smile just as big formed on her face, she walks towards the two figures in front of the guild's desk, the man being accompanied by a young boy with greyish hair was none than the person who cheered her on following her dreams of travelling all of Teyvat.

She hugs the man without notice and the man is throw off his conversation with the woman behind the desk. The face of the girl, now a young adult, greets him and he couldn't stop the overflowing of his emotions and hugged back the female. She's like a daughter to him, just like how he thinks of a son to the boy looking at them.

They share a couple of words before the female notices the boy besides them. Still being high from finding her mentor, she kneels before the boy and ruffles his hair, presenting herself and informing him that she's and adventurer just like the old man.

The boy's eyes shine at the mention of adventure. Does that mean that he has a mom now!? You do look far younger that his dads, but it's the same, right?

He surprises you when he voices his thoughts, and you chuckled a little at his cute face. You pinch his little nose, and with a smile you tell him you'll are honoured to be his mom, sharing all of your knowledge with him and experience with the outside world.

The boy, Bennett, as he shouted at the top of his lungs after your affirmative, lunged at your still kneeling form and locked his little arms around your neck, securing you in a tight hug. The force made the both of you to fall on the ground, but his happiness was so contagious that you couldn't careless about that.

As the years pass by, and your connection with the four boys strengthen, you saw them grow into strong young men, a feeling of proud sparks at the thought of being one of the big influence for them to reach the point they are now in, as you provided them with all types of knowledge and artifacts that you managed to get in your travels. You do feel like a proud mom of her four sons.

But... as pure as your feelings are, the four young men can't share the same sentiment. Or at least not in the same platonic way. They know that you don't feel the same as them, but you would never deny your boys their happiness, wouldn't you?

So, what would you do, when they finally decide to take action on their feelings, and the prospect of your sons crossings weapons just to have you for themselves is rearing it's head, will you choose one of them?

Or, in a surprise turn of events, they agree on sharing you with each others, as in the end they were taken care of by the same person they addressed as mother, creating a sense of brotherhood between the young males?

(Did you guys noticed that there's almost never a mention of mothers in Genshin? I think everyone has mommy issues lol)

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Anon i’ve ascended?? 

Im crying envisioning like. The thing is all these other boys have some sort of army to back them up. Xingqiu’s got rich people guards... bennett has fischl and his dads... razor has a pack of wolves... Chongyun over here by himself just like :)

But also... imagine a poly of four yans at once... fuck there would be no end to your constant suffering bruh

[alonelysimp]

Ice skating headcanons (part 2)

I've been grinding artifacts for Venti but I have returned !! (ㆁωㆁ)

Barbara, Bennett, Diluc, Fischl

Barbara

When I tell you she is like a goddess

IM SUPER JEALOUS BC SHED DRESS AMAZING TOO???

Would wear a super warm winter fit. Its baby blue and white and its beautiful

Shes also wearing a really pretty hat that matches the colour palette

Ok but like fr she is so graceful, literally everything shed do would be so pretty

Skills are only paralleled by Zhongli

Would immediately help you up if you fell

She tries to get you to sit down off the ice for a few minutes, even if you assure her you're completely fine

She'd give you her coat too

Even if it doesn't fit, its going around your shoulders

Its super fluffy too? 10/10 would keep you warm regardless of size

Wouldn't try to heal you tho bc hydro in the cold? wouldnt end well </3

Bennett

Shouldn't come as a surprise, he can't. at all.

That one kid at the rink thats like 5-8 years old, haphazardly skates around despite not knowing how to skate

Goes super fast, can't go more than 10m without crashing

Has crashed into everyone at least once

Mostly Sucrose tho

Tries to stay away from you bc he doesn't wanna hurt you

You'd try to keep him from getting hurt (it doesnt end well)

He broke through the ice

Someone please save him

He is drowning

Would definitely talk to you while sitting by the fire

I feel like he'd be warm in general because of his pyro vision?

so uhm do with that knowledge as you please ._. <3

Diluc

If you can get him on the ice, congrats you've done the impossible

Awkwardly shuffles along next to you for like ten minutes before getting off

He doesn't want to fall and look dumb bc he has a reputation but he'll never say that out loud

He'd encourage you to keep skating, especially if you enjoy it

Harasses you every once in a while to drink some water (thank you pls i keep forgetting i need to ;-;)

Gives you his coat

10/10

Its also really warm nd soft

He'd be super warm in general though, more than Bennett bc those layers keep him insulated

Fischl

Would say she's amazing at it

She can but... poorly

Super unstable, really awkward, her posture is horrible and would hurt herself. Balance? who's she?

Would hold onto your arm or shoulder if you let her

You'd have to go slowly to stay with her

I'm so sorry if you can't skate either, y'all are dead pls go ask Kaeya or Zhongli, anyone

Bennett probably tries to stay near her without crashing into her (too much)

You're in the danger zone too, good luck

Oz is useless. Doesn't help whatsoever.

She wouldn't bring a coat but would get cold super quickly, please give her yours

Another super short one!! As soon as I figure out how to use this shit I'll link part 1 <3

[jackedspicer]

C.B.H.!

new chowder oc dropped. Youre gonna hate this guy so much

first of all, corned beef hash is a character that my siblings @collectiveazaelas​ & @castingcomets​ and i have collaborated on making. from the bottom of our hearts, we hope you hate him as much as we do

at first glance, corned beef hash serves as a narrative foil to ms rhubarb. his initial conception centered loosely around antagonizing her, but his personality quickly grew beyond that. he is a beast unto himself and others. his only goal is to be self serving and (intentionally) get in the way of others in his life, primarily the other OCs kumquat and pimento, but also canon characters as well. he does this not out of spite or dislike for others, but rather it’s just because he can, and it is often times the fastest route to his goal. he is the freudian id, if the id had a sense of self control and awareness (though he does occasionally blip out on the latter). 

cbh's age isnt exactly clear. he exists in the comically broad adult world that most of marzipan city seems to: anywhere from 25-2500; whos to say? he graduated valedictorian from law school. around this time, he terrorized his dormmate (and future "friend"), pimento (a ram-like man with a few loose screws), to the point of dropping out and going into the culinary field, as "a kitchen during rush hour is still less stressful than sharing a living space with cbh." cbh is at times a petty thief, and at times a criminal mastermind - it depends on his current "schemes" and what is funny at the time. he knows the law to the letter and sometimes uses it to his advantage. though others sometimes think he is a temperamental idiot, most actions are done through thought-out choice and by utilizing his own strengths.

He has a stand in the farmer’s market at which he sells an assortment of mysterious wares and occasionally baked goods that are Evil & Wrong. The quality of his stock ranges anywhere between genuine artifacts to actual garbage from the dumpster, which he will then try to “spruce up” and sell as something more. He’s a hustler no doubt, and he earns his supply through meticulous dumpster-diving, talking down prices at thrift stores, and general vaguely-illegal tomfoolery. At times, he’ll get his hands on elusive items, and how he accomplishes this is seldom explained (he once was arrested and jailed for 12 days because he “accidentally” was selling illegal dognip). He frequently enlists in Kumquat’s help in his various endeavors and typically has her do the dirty work. For example, one of their foraging techniques involves his hooking her onto a fishing line and casting her out to sea; it’s usually just junk, but sometimes she’s clutching a few shiny souvenirs when reeled back in.

He does move the physical location of his stand around a lot, both to “drain fresh pockets” and to avoid growing too known and hated in one area. That being said, he’s been at this for a while, so every vendor at the farmer’s market knows him and is all too familiar with his cycling. The clientele are just unfamiliar enough to fall for his beguilement, though, save for a few skeevy regulars who seek him out for his stuff.

yes he was valedictorian. yes he was a frat boy all throughout college. yes he does beer kegs by pouring the beer directly into his head. yes hes a criminal mastermind. No its not a big deal

being a “bottlehead” (as he calls himself), he doesnt know what sex is (why would he need to?) but he doesnt know that he doesnt know. he loves the culture of it and he’ll hit on anyone. he doesn’t get vocab, but he’s raunchy without hesitation (see quotes section)

he has his eyes on the front of his skull because hes a pursuit predator

his tragic flaw is that he has no flaws. likewise, his lack of complexity is what makes him complex. He has no insecurities. This guy is a black hole. He is everything, but most importantly, he is Nothing.

It’s typical for him to throw around callous, vulgar, and at times offensive references. Case in point: his favorite nicknames for kumquat are Cumsquat and Cumsquirt. Likewise, his nicknames for pimento are Pissmentos, Bimento, Bitchmento, etc.

whenever he does something to boast about, he pounds his chest, turns around, flashes the back of his jacket, and chants C.B.H.! the way a frat boy chants his college's name

he's largely inspired by the way chris fleming characterizes the massachusettsian frat boy. in our minds, he also shares a voice with him.

he feels no shame and he does not hide himself. He may be a bullheaded, grandiose individual, but that doesnt mean he'll withhold his words of affirmation. he'll say something and really mean it - he gives and withholds performances for no one, as he only serves himself.

He devotes no time to introspection. it’s debatable that he might not even know how, but it would be time squandered as there’s not much to introspect On.

it’s a mistake to misinterpret kumquat as his little buddy whom he feels affection for; in his mind, they’re on the same team is all. hes gotta protect his own. It’s as if they’re in the same frathouse. that being said, hes not a good team player. he gets along with kumquat and at times pimento because they’re both socially passive, and the same goes for any relationship he’s ever had. Working with someone of his caliber would guarantee the butting of heads and stalemates on stalemates. A disaster

he’s heavily inspired by 3OH!3

his other inspirations include grunkle stan, brucie kibbutz, and caesar from big top burger, in equal parts

his species is potion

his mother is a lava lamp, his father is a science flask, and he has several siblings, with one of which being a bong named Oregano.

Cannot stand being called Corn

QUOTES

“C.B.H.!”

“You wanna go? You wanna start some BEEF with the HASH?!”

“By the power vested in me by the state of marzipan city i now pronounce you FUCKED PWNED”

“I’LL SUCK YOUR MOM’S DICK, BRO, DO NOT FUCK WITH ME!”

You want to know if his potion liquid is adhesive so you ask him if he has a meniscus and he thinks that youre asking him smth dirty so he says “hey hey i’m on my day job right now. Come by after 8 and ask me then, see what happens”

“If it’s not broke, we don’t sell it!” (motto)

“You wanna throw rocks at this glass house?”

 “Oh i’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was politically incorrect to have my TITS OUT”

“Broskis can you keep it down, im trying to get my wicked sleep gnar gnar on”

“I’M GONNA COME UNCORKED. IM GONNA COME UNCORKED. IM SERIOUSLY GONNA COME UNCORKED”

“Bro, i can’t deal with you trying to kiss me & shit. I’m not gay. Like, yeah, i’ll fuck a dude, marry a dude, but i seriously can’t be seen smooching someone with horns that big, you dig?”

“MY MOM DOESN’T LIKE YOU, STOP PRETENDING SHE DOES!”

“Yeah, no, yeah, yeah, i’m looking at the fucker right now.”

“Whose bottle do i gotta brush to [XYZ] around here?”

his uncieknuckies-type shitpost blog: @corndbeefhash​

and finally, his difficult person ranking: