#It's already at 27k words and there's still so much to go

[heyitsrink]

The first 5 chapters of my queer bird keepers fic are now posted! Cute and flirty bird nerds - what's not to love?

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 8 ⬅ch.7

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. alcohol. nsfw. wc 4.8k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | had the pleasure of writing this chapter... also the fic is at 27k words already! whoo, this is officially my longest fic.

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“we’re all meetin’ down at the local pub, if you’d care t’join,” soap said, leaning against the doorway of the infirmary with his arms crossed over his chest. 

you looked up from your clipboard and raised a brow. “oh, yeah?”

“yeah. the men could use a load off.”

he was right. it had been a tense week at base as the men worked on tracking down hassan and going out on missions but turning up with no luck. it was frustrating and tiring. you could see it in their drained faces. 

the infirmary was empty for the night, no one having any substantial injuries that required overnight care, so you figured it’d be alright to go with them.

“yeah, okay,” you said, nodding your head in agreement.

“sweet!” soap’s reply made you smile. he always made you feel wanted. 

something in you yearned to ask if ghost was going to be there, but that would just raise alarms. and as daft as johnny could be, you didn’t want to risk him finding out about your little… crush . ghost’s words rang in your head and you quickly abandoned that thought process, a flush rising on your face and chest.

you stood in your room feeling like an imposter. you glanced at yourself in the mirror and debated multiple times on removing your dress, but you really had nothing else nice to wear. 

all you had in your wardrobe was workout wear and your uniform. you just never found yourself needing much more than that. you mentioned your lack of a wardrobe to your friend in the infirmary and she immediately offered her assistance. “i have the cutest little dress you can wear! i think you’re my size…” she said as she looked between the two of you. 

you felt your face warm. “a dress? oh, i don’t know,” you said with a nervous laugh. “don’t you think that will be a bit much for a bar?”

“no! we’re always in these drab clothes,” – she gestured between the two of you – “it will feel good to put on something feminine for once. trust me.”

“oh, are you saying i don’t look feminine?” you teased, gesturing to your outfit which was a dark shirt, cargo pants, and boots. 

she rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag, ready to head back to her room. “shut up and follow me.”

now you were standing alone in your room and rethinking everything. the dress was simple: black, just short enough, and flattered your figure. but you still felt odd in it. after seeing yourself in your uniform for so long, this felt completely out of the ordinary. 

you played with the hem and debated changing. but what would you change into? sweatpants? 

you made a note to get some casual wear – jeans, a simple top, a sweater maybe – just things to wear on your off days. 

before you could talk yourself out of it more, you slid on the flats your friend has also let you borrow and you fumbled out of your room. 

it was nice enough out, and the bar was pretty close, so you decided to walk, your friend beside you. “you look hot,” she said. a smile was dragged out of you, not used to such compliments. she sported a similar outfit: a shorter dress, simple shoes, her hair down in waves. 

she hooked her arm around yours and you both giggled. maybe it would be nice to feel normal for a bit. to go out like most women your age do on the weekends.

you wondered if johnny and the others were already there. maybe you should have told him to wait for you so you could go together. 

you pushed your hair out of your face as the wind blew and looked up at the stars. it was such a beautiful night. you deserved this . you deserved to have a little fun. 

and you knew the men did this rather often. but that was before you had become friends with johnny and slowly with the others as well. now you were officially invited to things like this and it made your chest flutter with acceptance. 

the bar was a bit grungier than you expected, its windows blacked out, the sign light flickering, a group of motorcyclists outside smoking. your friend looked the men outside up and down, intrigued, and you heard them whistle back at her. “let's go,” you said, pulling her along with you.

you both pushed your way inside and were greeted with the smell of sweat, alcohol, too much cologne, and burning wood. the bar was dimly lit and there was already a crowd of people inside. 

you felt nervous as you scanned the room for someone you knew. you spotted soap and gaz in the corner and you smiled. your friend slipped away from you, seeing her friends at the bar, but not before making sure you were okay. you nodded to her then made your way towards soap. 

“soap!” you said cheerfully, making the man spin to face you. 

his face lit up, looking you up and down. “you clean up nice.”

“wish I could say the same,” you laughed. he gave you a cheeky grin in return.

your growing smile faltered when you saw a looming figure behind soap at the table. ghost . 

shit. shit. shit .

you could feel his eyes on you and you shifted uncomfortably on the heels of your feet. 

soap noticed your empty hand. “let me get you a drink,” he said over the noise and slipped off to the bar. 

you awkwardly turned to the table and greeted gaz who was talking with a few other men you recognized but couldn’t remember their names. 

you couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering over to where ghost was sitting he wore a black hoodie that he had pulled over his head, his balaclava mask, and dark jeans and boots. his hands rested on the table and he was still staring at you. 

letting him win, you turned away. why did things have to be so weird between you two? were you the one making things uncomfortable?

before you could wallow in your thoughts, soap appeared beside you again and handed you a beer. 

“i’m not supposed to take drinks from strange men,” you teased. 

“ha. ha. very funny, lass.”

you nudged him in the shoulder.

“hey,” a voice said beside you. you looked up and saw commander graves approaching your table. “fuck,” he said, taking you in. “i didn’t recognize you. you look great,” he complimented. 

you thanked him a bit awkwardly. soap reached over you and wrapped an arm over your shoulders protectively. “i don’t like the way you’re lookin’ at her,” johnny said towards graves. 

graves laughed, raising his hands in surrender. you rolled your eyes at the nonsense of these two men. “i can do my own bidding,” you said up to soap. 

“you heard her, she can turn me down herself,” graves teased. 

you smiled, all three of you laughing, however, your smile broke when ghost got up and left the table. 

“what’s his problem?” you asked soap, trying to sound casual, taking a sip of the cold beer. 

“honestly, m’not sure. he’s been like this all week.”

you nodded, wanting to pry more, but that would be a bit conspicuous, so you just drank your beer and fell into conversation with the men around you.

three beers and three shots later, you were slurring your words slightly as you argued with the table about how you had the ability to multiply any set of numbers in your head. 

“you’ve got a calculator under there,” gaz said, referring to your hands conveniently placed under the table. 

you held your hands up, “go ahead. ask me another.”

soap laughed and spewed off a random combination of numbers, “four hundred eighty-six, times three thousand five hundred and seven.” gaz quickly punched the numbers into his phone's calculator.

you took a moment, the gears in your head turning, before answering. “one million, seven hundred four thousand, four hundred and two.”

the other two men beside gaz leaned over to look at his phone screen to read the correct answer.

“well, i’ll be fucked,” gaz said astonished, all the men gaping up at you. 

you smiled and did a little twirl in victory. “i believe you owe me a drink, kyle.”

gaz nodded before standing. “honestly, i’m not even mad,” he said before passing you and going to the bar. 

you turned to soap, “i’m going to the restroom. i’ll be right back. make sure gaz doesn’t spit in my drink.”

he smirked and nodded then focused back on the guys who were now spewing out nonsense about who could down a beer the quickest. personally, your bet was on soap.

you laughed to yourself and made your way through the moving bodies. once you made it through the crowd, there was a small, dark hallway in the corner of the bar with two bathrooms at the end. it was a lot less busy over here and the music rang far quieter in your ears, you were thankful for the reprieve. 

as you edged around the corner you tripped and stumbled, laughing to yourself as you did. two arms caught you and you giggled at how drunk you were. “t-thank you,” you muttered. you finally focused on the person’s arms and spotted tattoos peeking out of their rolled-up sleeves. your eyes went wide and you quickly snapped your head up. simon . 

“s-sorry,” you said, trying to get untangled from his grip and lock yourself away in the bathroom out of embarrassment. 

“wait,” he clutched your arm and pulled you back to him. it was easy for him to move you, like you weighed nothing to him. that sent both a thrill of fear and excitement through your body. 

you clashed into his chest and immediately tried to gain a bit of space between you two. you hesitated but looked up at him as he loomed over you. to anyone else, they would be terrified to be faced with a man in a dark hallway, his hood pulled, his face covered, and his stance over six feet. but you knew ghost. knew he wouldn’t hurt you. 

“what?” you asked, a bit more snippy than you intended. 

his hands lingered on your arm, tightening briefly before letting go. “are you with johnny?” the seriousness in his tone surprised you. 

you scoffed. “what?” you were certainly taken aback. then you got a bit annoyed. “is there something wrong if i was?” you rolled your eyes and bit the inside of your lip. “I’ll have you know, there’s nothing forbidden about soap and i. there’d be no conflict of interest. so really, you have no right t-to ask.” you hiccuped on your last sentence and crossed your arms over your chest, trying to look assertive.

“how much have you had to drink?” he demanded. 

“ god, ghost,” you threw your hands up in defeat. “what does it matter? why do you care? me being drunk or s-sleeping with soap has nothing t’do with you. and my intoxication level has nothing to d-do with what i’m feeling.”

“so, you are with him, then?” his eyes darkened as he glared at you from beneath his mask. a smudge of his black face paint was still circled around his eyes, making him appear cynical and slightly terrifying. 

you laughed, he was missing the point. “no. jesus . i’m not with soap. we’re friends ,” you dragged out the ‘s’. 

you stared at him, waiting for him to say something. you decided if he didn’t answer in the next few seconds, you were going to turn around and walk away. this outing was supposed to be fun.

just as you were about to sidestep him, he took a step towards you. you actually had to crane your head back now to look at him. “you know why i care? why i’m askin’ you all this?” you could smell the whiskey on him and it sent a shiver through you.

you shook your head. “no. that’s what i’ve been asking you ,” you whined in mental exhaustion, your voice was far quieter than mere moments ago. the anger behind your words seemed to have left you. “enlighten me. tell me why you’ve been so hot n’ cold lately,” you whispered, losing all your momentum as his eyes flickered between yours. “do you hate me, or n-not?!”

one of ghost’s hands came up and tucked a tendril of your hair behind your ear. your lips parted in a silent gasp. his fingers tickled as they barely brushed over your skin. you swallowed and his hand cupped the side of your face, his fingers slipping into your hair. he leaned forward and you felt your breath get caught in your throat, your eyes widening in surprise. all sane thoughts left your body. all that filled your senses was him. simon.

he used his free hand to snake up between your bodies and push his mask up to his nose, exposing his stubble and scars. “ i’m going to kiss you now ,” he mumbled. he lingered a moment, giving you enough time to escape his hold, but you stayed rooted in place. 

in a painfully slow motion, simon leaned forward, hunching over and pulling your face up to meet him, and placed his lips on yours. 

your eyes fluttered shut and you felt a race of adrenaline pump through you. his hand was gentle as he caressed your face, pulling you further and further into him. you couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

your lips moved out of sync for a moment but you quickly learned how to flow together. your hands instinctively reached out and fisted his shirt, allowing you to extend higher up into him and also keep your balance. 

he turned you so your back hit the wall, making a squealing noise sound in the back of your throat, his free hand going to your hip, pushing you backward. he pressed his body into yours, his tongue tracing along your bottom lip and then slipping into your mouth. 

you groaned into the kiss as he consumed you, his body shielding you completely. if someone saw ghost from behind, they’d have no idea you were pinned underneath him. 

you gasped as he pulled away, his mouth still dangerously close to yours. 

“simon… i—“ you began, panting as you spoke, trying to catch your breath. 

your hands were still lost in his shirt, his hand still on your hip, but his other one was now on the wall beside your head. “don’t talk.” he kissed you again before you could protest. his lips felt so soft against yours, his stubble tickling you. his hand on the wall couldn’t stop itself from coming back to the side of your cheek, wanting to kiss you as deep as he possibly could. he was truly stealing the breath away from you.

your body rolled into his and you heard him grunt in the back of his throat. it was one of the hottest sounds you’ve ever heard. you felt like you were getting high off him, as he attacked your mouth with such fervor and heady need.

when he pulled away again, you gaped up at him. his eyes danced between yours, appraising you. trying to cypher through your thoughts. you looked at him through your eyelashes, waiting for him to speak or to move. you felt frozen in time. like if you moved, the illusion of him would fade away into a puff of smoke. 

then he moved you in a haze, your eyes focused solely on his silhouette. he grabbed your hand, engulfing it with his own, and pulled you into one of the single-person bathrooms. 

“what’re you—?” 

he shut the door behind the two of you, locked it, and pushed you up against it, your feet rising so you were standing on the tips of your toes. he was panting again, completely succumbing to what he explicitly told himself not to do. the alcohol gave him just strength to suppress the voice yelling at him in his head.

then he kissed you again. this time rough and hungry. your body fell limp as you let him hold you up, his mouth moving against yours in sync. your arms reached up and draped across his shoulders, both of you fighting for dominance, but you gave up rather quickly and let him win. 

simon’s hands roamed your body like he couldn’t get enough of you. any rational thought about pushing him away vanished. you knew you needed to talk about things — to figure out what he wanted from you. but right now, all you wanted was whatever this was. 

“this goddamn dress ,” he murmured in between kisses, his voice husky and low. your chest rushed with flames at his words, knowing that you were affecting him by simply wearing a short dress, and it made you clench your thighs together. 

simon’s hands went to the hem of your dress and he pushed it up, your body hot and clammy as his hand gilded along your skin. he nipped at your lip, his hand slowly descending between your legs. when he got to the apex of your thighs, he softly dragged his fingers across you, forcing you to moan into his mouth. 

“i fuckin’ hate seeing you with other guys,” he said hoarsely. 

you looked at him, a bit dazed, and still intoxicated — but now by more than just alcohol. “what?” you said breathlessly.

“soap. gaz,” he said flatly. “graves,” he said the commander's name with more anger, his fingers beginning to slide up and down you above your underwear. 

you gripped his shoulders. “okay,” you hastily spoke, still not understanding him, but also not wanting him to stop. 

he pushed your underwear to the side and you were thankful you wore one of your skimpier pairs tonight. as his fingers glidded across you, his fingers getting coated with your arousal, he spoke again. “jus’ with me,” he said. 

just with him? what the fuck was he talking about? you nodded anyway. “just with you,” you repeated. 

“ good girl .” your heart fluttered in your chest at his praise. you never knew those two words could sound so heavenly. but when ghost’s thick accent growled them out breathlessly, you found your core warming more than you thought possible. 

simon pressed two fingers against your entrance, his lips now attacking your neck. you were trying to catch your breath, your mind fogged, your body limp, your heart racing. 

when he pushed them both in, you gasped rather loudly. “ ohmygod ,” you slurred. you were beginning to pant wildly.

you could feel him smile ever so slightly against you. “ mmm ,” he hummed. 

he slowly began to move his fingers, your body ready for him and letting him move with ease. “ so fuckin’ wet for me ,” he mumbled. 

you clutched onto his shoulders, your eyes squeezing shut as you focused on the feeling of him inside you. he curled his fingers slightly as he went, pumping them in and out at a decent speed, your body squelching with each thrust. 

normally, you might be a bit self-conscious about being vocal the first time you were intimate with a new person, but you literally could not contain your sounds. you moaned and mewled, crying out when he sped up, his palm bumping your clit each time his fingers went in as far as they could. 

he felt you clenching around him and he marveled at how fast you were approaching your orgasm. it’s not that he had any doubts in his ability, but he’s never made a woman come quite this fast. and you had never had a man make you come this fast either. it was new for both of you.

one of your legs hooked around simon’s thigh, wanting to take him as deep as you could. “fuck,” he grunted, his free hand palming your breast over your dress. “you gonna come for me already, pet?” 

you nodded your head repeatedly, raspy breaths the only response you could vocalize. 

“go on then,” he commanded, keeping his speed. 

your walls spasmed around his fingers and your head buried against his chest. your legs began to shake as you felt yourself reach your high. “fuck, fuck, oh fuck !” ghost engulfed you, holding you up and into him while you clutched him in desperation.

you moaned into his chest and you could hear him panting above you — as if he had just climaxed too. 

he kept moving his fingers, making sure to bump your clit, letting you ride out your orgasm to completion.

when you stopped shaking and were trying to catch your breath, he slowed and eased his fingers out of you. 

neither of you moved. you were still clinging to him and he still had his hands around you, your leg propped on his waist. 

after several beats of silence while you both gasped for air, your hands snaked down his body and fiddled with his belt. you felt simon straighten slightly at your touch, his hand slipping into your hair and making you look at him. 

you succeeded in undoing his belt and you let him tilt your head up toward him. “you don’t have t—“ your hand slid into his pants and grabbed him, cutting him off. he was painfully hard and he groaned the second he felt your fingers on him. 

simon cleared his throat, trying to concentrate as you slowly began to stroke his length. “i’m serious. you d-don’t have to,” he stuttered.

a lazy smile filled your lips knowing how intensely you were affecting him. “i wanna,” you whispered. 

simon’s eyes opened and searched yours, looking for any sign of… displeasure? 

you let your leg fall to your side and you both untangled your bodies. you pushed his chest, baking him up against the sink so he was half sitting on the counter. you pried his pants down enough to free him completely. he watched you intently as you fell to your knees. he was thankful he had the counter for support because seeing you drop to your knees before him made him want to do the same.

god, he wasn’t sure how long he was going to last. he was already impossibly hard from hearing you moan at his touch. and now you were on your knees, begging to suck him off. he was absolutely fucked. 

you gulped, realizing how big he was. simon murmured your name and you immediately took him in your mouth. 

“ugh— fuck —!” he cried. one of your hands grabbed his base where your mouth couldn’t reach and you started a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down. your hand made twisting motions and your tongue pressed against his cock as you sucked. 

“jus’ like that,” he groaned, his hand coming out to tangle in your hair. his other hand gripped the countertop, holding it so harshly he thought he might crack the porcelain. 

you came up for a breath and a bit of spit dribbled out of your mouth and onto his cock. simon groaned, his hips begging to buck forward. 

you took him in again and simon’s grip in your hair tightened. “not gonna last much— f-fuck —longer,” he said through bated breaths. 

you hummed against him and the vibrations made his cock twitch. he gently bucked his hips forward and you gagged. the noises you were making were so obscene, and simon wanted them ingrained in his brain forever. 

“god, pet. you feel so fuckin’ good .” 

you sucked at the tip of his cock and began to stroke him at a more erratic pace. then you slipped him back in and his cock hit the back of your throat, making you gag again. 

“if you d-don’t want me to come in your mouth, you better stop n-now,” he moaned, his head tilting back slightly in pure ecstasy. 

you continued to work him, wanting to taste him. and with a few more bobs of your head and jerk of your hands, simon came in your mouth. 

the hoarse moan he made sent a wave of pleasure between your legs, making you ache to fully have him. you held your mouth in place but continued to suck, making simon’s legs shake slightly. his hand in your hair was now painfully grasping at you but you didn’t mind. 

simon moaned your name as he slowly came back to earth. you popped him out of your mouth and caught your breath, looking up at him. his cheeks were flushed where his mask was pushed up and he was looking at you in astonishment. 

you were kneeling before him, swallowing his come, blinking at him through your eyelashes, your dress still hiked up a bit too high and you’d hair disheveled. you were a fucking work of art and simon was so fucking screwed. 

reality came crashing down on him and he let go of your hair and stood up from the counter, pulling his pants up and redoing his belt. 

he pulled his mask down and you rose in apprehension at his sudden shift. 

“i’m sorry,” he said.

you furrowed your bows. “for what?” 

simon cleared his throat, trying to gain some distance from you. “i shouldnt have taken advantage of you.” 

you gave a mirthless smile. “i told you i wanted to. you didn’t take advantage—“

he breathed your name. “you want something i can’t give.”

“you don’t know what i want,” you said with more merit, but you hugged your arms over your body which said the opposite.

“you’re not the kinda girl for a quick fuck. and i can’t do all the–” he gestured around him with his hands, “– strings.” 

you looked at him with hurt in your eyes. simon wished he could take back what he said. but he kept going anyway, sabotaging himself. 

“you looked good in your dress. that’s all. m’sorry.” 

you gulped, nodding your head but averting your eyes. you swallowed back tears and stood there dumbfounded for a moment. 

you turned to leave the bathroom. you wanted to get as far away as possible from him. 

he called out your name and reached for your arm. 

“don’t!” you shouted, shrugging him off and storming out of the bathroom and back into the bar. 

ghost cursed under his breath as the door slowly shut. he turned and put both hands on the sink’s counter and hung his head. why was he this fucking stupid? why did he hurt you like that? 

why did he lie to you ?

it was true — he didn’t think he could do a proper relationship — but what wasn’t true was that you were simply a warm body to him. no. he had never wanted anyone the way he wanted you. he had been thinking about you against his will for weeks now. and seeing you in that dress, looking up at him with such soft eyes, he was done for. 

he had never had butterflies when he kissed someone. but with you, his stomach did flips and his heart raced in his chest. he should have stopped then. he couldn’t give you what you wanted. and he couldn’t give himself what he wanted.

it was like he thrived on punishing himself. he didn’t deserve good things. and good things never last. the way you pulled at him led him to believe that he wouldn’t fully recover if he let you get close just to leave him. so he couldn’t let himself get to that point with you. 

and you were innocent and full of hope. you’d hate him once you got to know him. he’d been hurt too many times to count and he thought he had forgotten what it was like to love — to have someone you care about. he wasn’t sure he even knew how to love anymore. he’d hurt you. and he was your superior. it was a disaster waiting to unravel. 

but bloody fuckin’ hell, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to feel what he just felt in that shitty bar bathroom with anyone else. and that scared him. 

he could chase after you. you probably hadn’t gotten very far. he could explain everything. tell you upfront about his concerns. you could discuss this like adults. he could let himself have something good for once in his life. but he didn’t feel like he deserved it… deserved you.

he stayed in the bathroom, sick of his face, and punished his reflection, slamming his fist against the mirror, and shattering it. his knuckles coated with blood and he growled. he threw the bathroom door open and startled the two people waiting outside it. 

“what the fuck—you okay, man?” the stranger asked noticing ghost’s hand. 

ghost pushed past them and left the bar, but not before spotting you with soap. you were drunk and he needed to be sure you’d get back safely. 

he saw tears staining your cheeks and a pang of guilt filled him as he stormed out of the bar. 

chapter 9 ➡

[yoificfinder]

Hello! Do you have any short and fluffy victuuri recs? I prefer around the 15k to 20k word mark but I am happy with any! If you have any of these stories please share with me. If not that’s ok! I love all the work you do and I hope you have a wonderful day! Thank you!

I love fluffy fics!! And this fandom has a lot to offer (I limited this rec to one fic per author though).

And I know you asked for 15k-20k words but I included shorter ones too in this rec. It's actually a bit hard to find 20k of pure fluff since some angst or tension seeps in but I hope you'll enjoy these. Thanks for patiently waiting!

Less than 15K words

all the dragons we have slain by brighter [M, 10K]

This is why Yuuri loves gaming—the victory of it, the easy camaraderie amongst his guild, the sense that he’s part of something greater.

Victor tells him, “you were incredible,” and maybe he loves that a little, too.

come get you some of that bounce baby by @crossroadswrite [T, 4K]

“What are you doing?” Yuuri asks, side-eyeing him as he bends his arms behind his back, legs stretched into a perfect split.

“Delivering justice onto this cruel and unusual world.”

“Whoever trashed me on social media is not worth it, Vitya.”

(Or: in which they're happily married, coaching Russia's and Japan's next great skaters, and Victor Nikiforov remains the clingiest, thirstiest man on the face of this planet.)

Heartbeat by (orphan_account) [G, 3K]

Victor starts sleeping in Yuri's bed well before the Cup of China.

just like me they long to be by sparklespiff [T, 4K]

"Haven't you noticed that Yuuri gets everything he wants?"

"Everything that's in somebody else's power to give him," Mari says, before Victor can bring up last year's GPF. "He's not magic, just pretty."

"But it's like magic. My theory is that it's because he's sneaky beautiful, so you're not expecting it, and then, under all that stuff, whoa! Gorgeous. And it's too late to save yourself."

"Stuff?" Victor keeps smiling but makes his voice cold, the way he does when reporters overstep. His Yuuri doesn't have stuff. Everything about him is beautiful.

or:

Yuuri lives in a Beautiful Person Bubble. It's Victor's responsibility to make sure he never finds out.

Viktor Effing Nikiforov by @shysweetthing [E, 13K]

AU in which Yuuri still doesn’t remember the banquet, somehow doesn’t blow Japanese Nationals, runs into Victor at the World Championships, and has absolutely no idea why his idol is suddenly friendly and incredibly handsy.

Does Yuuri care about his reasons? No. It’s Victor Effing Nikiforov.

15K to 20K words

The Fundamentals of Caring by @braveten [E, 21K]

“Let me guess, you’re going to go take care of Yuuri while he sleeps? Just in case he sneezes or something?” Yurio rolls his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. “Viktor, you’re whipped.”

Viktor rubs the back of his neck as he leans against the wall. “What does that mean?”

“It means that if Yuuri asked you to do a little dance for him in nothing but a coconut bra and a hula skirt, you’d do it.”

Viktor pauses, confused. “And that's a bad thing?”

If It's You by Kiranokira [E, 16K]

Viktor very much wants to pose nude with Yuuri for a Japanese magazine. Yuuri is less enthusiastic.

Yuri turns and brandishes a damp sock at them. “Don’t let him sweet talk you into doing porn,” he tells Yuuri. Then he grimaces and mutters to himself in Russian, “I can’t believe my life has reached the point that I have to say things like this.”

never tasted rubies by @ebenroot-daily [T, 27K]

Phichit puts up a poll on the radio website. It reads ‘What Do U Think About Yuuri K. from Hasetsu Nights and the Mysterious Caller Victor?’

Seventy-five percent of listeners said ‘lol they should just f*ck already tbh’.

--

in which Yuuri is an unwilling radio host and Victor won't stop calling in to chat with him

puppy love by minsyah [T, 16K]

Vicchan has a crush on their neighbor across the balcony, and so does his owner.

Yuuri, certified Dog-Dad™, will do anything for his beloved poodle—even if that means constantly embarrassing himself in front of his devastatingly attractive neighbor.

[spikedsoul]

maid's worst nightmare - ch 18

damn, can't believe i'm roughly 27k words into this story and not only has it only been 3 days, but also no actual romance yet. hope y'all like slow burns...

previous chapters

@sovereign-of-succ

On one hand, your fingers were sore already, but on the other hand, the heel of your palm was getting tired from constantly kneading. You were working on the spaces between the uppermost spikes on his back, your whirlwind thoughts interrupted by how it seemed like you just barely started. You pulled your hands away, not for the first time, and stuck them in the warm water for a bit of relief.

"Again?" Bowser snorted. "Thought you were a handmaid."

"Which is a fancy name for a personal maid waiting on royalty - I'm not a masseuse," you retorted.

His head tilted slightly in what you could only assume was an exaggerated eye roll. Without another word, he shifted a bit and grabbed your hands; you squeaked softly as he pulled your chest to the edge of the tub. Instead of pulling you in, though, like you'd briefly feared, he took each of your hands in his massive paws and started to lightly massage your fingers and palms.

You flushed in embarrassment, but didn't pull away.

"What're you–"

"Hush. Let's make a deal, hm? I can get the lower half of my back without help, so you just finish up between the next set. But when I get out you oil my whole back down to my tail. It's not as intensive and you'll get a handy little cloth, like you're just wipin' off a kitchen counter really well. I may or may not make you comb my mane, too." He leaned his head back and turned to face to the side so you could meet his eyes, his big mitts still steadily massaging your hands.

The sigh you let out was a little more dramatic than it needed to be but you nodded. "Alright. Deal. I'm more used to doing laundry or sewing or cooking, not massaging a giant…" His eyes narrowed a little, warning you to be careful of your next word. You swallowed just a bit. "...Reptile," you finished.

He scoffed, "No shit? The fact you took like five breaks didn't tip me off or nothin'."

"Oh shut up," you muttered.

He finally let go of your hands, and you had to admit they felt much better. Well, you wouldn't admit that out loud to him, but it was a definite relief; you missed the way his nostrils flared and contracted as he turned his back fully to you again.

He hunched his shoulders a bit and leaned forward a little so you could access what little you had left of his skin to work on. You got to it without further complaint, kneading the soap into his skin as best you could, quietly enjoying how you could feel his quiet rumbling traveling up your arms from his back. It was almost like a cat's purr, honestly.

By the time you finished the last bit, your hands were sore again, but instead of complaining you just washed your hands free of the soap. No words were exchanged between the two of you as you took your leave of the bathroom and he moved to finish up what you hadn't done.

You almost, almost, went to peek your head back in when you heard him grumble to himself. However, you were quick to reason that if he'd wanted to say something or had an issue, he'd bring it up with you to your face. He wasn't exactly afraid to speak his mind, after all. Soon enough, Bowser was ambling his way from the bathroom with a few things clutched in his right hand: another bottle, a soft-looking cloth, and a comb.

"Remember - down to my tail," he instructed, pushing the items into your chest. You jerked your hands up to grab them before anything fell.

"Yes, your beastliness," you mumbled. He snorted softly and you waited until he turned his back to you to smile a bit. "Um, this is an awfully small bottle…"

"A little goes a long way, 'specially with that rag," Bowser replied. "Just put a little on and work until the sheen isn't getting applied anymore. Easy."

The genuine instructions were appreciated after the snarky bath you had to endure, but it left you with a question.

"So I really am just wiping you down like a wooden table?"

"You got it, little lady. Then just a brief comb through my mane, and after that you're done for the evening." He settled on his stomach with his chin on the pillow and his hands slipped under to help support his head. His knees splayed out to the side a little, like a monitor lizard or crocodilian, and you found that a little amusing.

For now, you set the comb on the bedside table closest to you, then moved to start on his left side. You dabbed a little of the oil on the cloth and started with his neck once again; sure enough, there was a noticeable sheen that stuck to his skin after just one pass. You opted to work the rag in circles to better and more evenly spread the oil. Just the little bit you used covered his whole neck, his shoulder, and just under the first couple of spikes. You had to move the spikes yourself but they weren't hard to handle.

Although it had been your decision to be thorough and rub down to the middle of his sides too, a blush crept into your cheeks as you worked lower; you'd basically railroaded yourself into swiping the rag over his hip. Despite his tummy, his hips were still relatively pronounced, and you were forced to reckon with the fact that he pretty much was all muscle - even that belly of his.

Bowser effectively had the physique of a power lifted.

…No wonder it had been so tough to massage him. Also, you could kill yourself for having this revelation because it was what got you into Rodney in the first place.

What could you say? You appreciated guys that could lift cars. It was just unfortunate that you realized this about King Bowser, your captor, who would eventually be giving you back to Princess Peach you hoped. And it wasn't like you actively sought Rodney out - you knew very well how to appreciate from a distance, but the man had seen you look one too many times and became rather persistent getting you to date him. He was sweet at first, as most abusers are, and by the time he'd shown his true colors it was too late.

You didn't intend to make that mistake again.

Your hand brought the cloth up underneath that last middle spike, over the divot at the base of his tail, and a tiny movement brought your careening thoughts to a crashing halt. Sure you had been mistaken, you repeated the action. But there it was again: his tail arched up a little at the base.

"Don't do that, you weirdo," you frowned.

"Do what?" he huffed. "Far as I know I didn't do anything."

"You're arching your tail like a damn cat when I get near the base," you stated. "So stop. It's weird."

His spikes clacked softly against each other as they briefly raised just a little and lowered again in a small wave. It was like he had to fight to keep them down, and you remembered Ludwig mentioning they were a tell of his.

"Then don't - if you don't wanna see it, just skip that part," he muttered without looking at you.

"Cool." You got up off the bed completely to move around to his other side; you didn't trust what might happen if you climbed over his legs. For whatever reason, Bowser seemed almost embarrassed by the tail arch, and you didn't care to humiliate the king.

It probably meant nothing, just a good spot like on cats and dogs and other animals. Yeah. Sure.

When you settled on his other side to continue the process, he turned his face away from you. You didn't comment. If he wanted to be a baby about it, fine with you - he was actually doing you a favor by reminding you he was a haughty man-child with the title of king. Silently, you continued your task, careful not to use too much oil and spreading it as evenly as you could, just as thoroughly as you'd done on his other side.

[capitalismwasamistake]

You liked "Newton's Third Law" but don't want to read a songfic? No worries! Here is just the vivisection in that fic's sequel "When The Drunks Start Singing" - no need to read 27k words of two guys singing.

It's longer, more romantic, softer, and more violent - what more could you ask for?

Warnings: blood, violence (it's a vivisection ...), sex. Unbearable amounts of softness, intimacy and tenderness (that's a warning and a threat)

Ship: Poolverine (but you knew that already)

Word count: 5.1k - open that "keep reading" at your own risk

Blind Al is at bingo.

“You grow a pair yet?” Wade asks over the takeout for lunch.

Logan grunts in the affirmative, utterly focused on his food.

“I want it on the carpet.”

“I assumed.”

“Aww, peanut, you know me so well!”

As if to emphasize the point, Logan hands him a beer.

“I was just about to ask for that.”

Last time Wade was understandably nervous. Today he’s still slightly nervous, truth be told, but mostly he’s excited.

Logan finishes a hearty lunch, then washes the dishes. Wade buzzes around him and whines his impatience for the entire building to hear, without being acknowledged or indulged once.

“It’s like you don’t love me anymore,” he complains, then curses himself mentally because honestly? He’s better than that.

“I’m in love with you,” Logan easily points out and hands him a plate to dry.

“I thought we agreed you’d give me warnings?!”

Logan pretends not to hear him.

Three minutes later Wade returns to the living room after a much-needed bathroom break and his heart inexplicably swells.

A couple of their old once-white-but-now-bloodred sheets are folded over a particular spot of carpet – where the loveseat, now under the far window, usually sits. A couple of throw cushions are propping up Wade’s bed pillow on top of that.

“You were serious about preparing this time, huh?” he turns to Logan who’s looking outside at the unusually sunny day.

He gets an affirmative grunt in response.

Wade joins his partner by the window. Caresses his arm softly.

“You still wanna do this?”

Logan looks slightly pained for a second.

“I may want it too much.”

That’s not what Wade expected.

“Peanut, I asked you to do this,” he reminds.

“I know. I know.”

“It’s not nice to edge outside of the bedroom, you know.”

Logan huffs at that, and finally turns to look at Wade. He looks happy.

Wade is also very happy when he gets a deep, sweet kiss.

“I love you,” Logan tells him when they part.

“I see why you never said it back, hearing it so often takes up all the urge, huh?”

“Take your shirt off.”

“Yes, sir!”

Logan looks amused as he accepts Wade’s shirt from him and folds it neatly on top of the loveseat.

“That’s hot.”

Logan shakes his head then shrugs out of his own flannel and undershirt as well.

“Aw, peanut, giving me a view?”

(He is, but he’ll never admit it out loud)

Logan steers him by the shoulders and lays him down. The softness of the carpet is a definite improvement from last time.

“Oh yeah, here we go,” Wade mutters and shuffles to get comfortable.

Logan gives him a second pillow which he promptly shoves under the small of his back, but that creates an awkward angle and is not that comfortable.

“Next time,” he winks, and Logan shakes his head.

He caresses Wade’s hip, then reaches over to unbutton his jeans.

“Oh?”

“Got plans for this one, bub.”

“Love the sound of that,” Wade decides as he lifts his hips to help Logan push his jeans down.

And then he’s there, completely naked. It’s a miracle this apartment is not cold approaching the middle of October.

Logan’s looking at him appreciatively, and okay, Wade heard him sing that line in Undisclosed Desires (twice), but that doesn’t mean he quite believed it. He’s still him, after all.

Hard to be a nonbeliever when those eyes are drinking him in like that.

Then Logan’s bending down to kiss him, and that’s also a welcome diversion from last time.

“You’ll tell me if you want me to stop, right?”

“Peanut, there’s literally nothing you could do right here that I’d want to stop. But sure.”

That seems to be enough for Logan, who once again pulls back and considers his next move. Wade is relaxed under his gaze, transfixed by the odd mix of focus and serenity on his features.

Then one set of claws gently slips out and Wade’s excited.

Logan meets his eyes, and Wade nods.

“Yes. Gods, yes.”

Logan doesn’t immediately open him up. When he said he had plans for this one, he meant it.

He seems to have taken some experience from bedroom experiments, because he uses the full length of his claws to slice precise, curved cuts into Wade’s left arm. He follows his flesh’s natural curve, moves along with it, and leaves a pleasant sting of crimson in his wake. The cuts are deep, metal drags along bone, blood flows into the sheets and down to the carpet.

Wade tries to stifle a moan, fails. A smile splits Logan’s focused face.

He finishes below the wrist, the last cut just dipping into Wade’s palm, and moves back to observe his work. The wounds heal quickly, but the blood remains, a swirling picture of bright red – Wade’s the canvas.

Logan leans down, presses their foreheads together, closes his eyes, and purrs.

“Yes,” Wade gasps because he can understand what his partner’s asking. “Holy mother of wolverines, Logan, yes.”

And just like that, he continues. First the right arm, a mirror image of the left. He’s thought this out – the angles so that Wade sees it too, the depth so just the right amount of blood pools and drips down, the intersections, the places that hurt the most. The world’s most intricate art composition.

Wade can’t even think, he can only watch and feel and try to beg for more, only words are not quite on the menu for him, Logan must be glad, and the blinds are open this time so he can see sunbeams dancing off of his own drying blood and that shouldn’t look appealing but it does.

Man, Wade is messed up. It’s fine – he’s got another messed up freak right there with him. Two is enough for company.

Logan moves across his sides and to his belly – he leaves the centre of his chest suspiciously clear, as if bringing attention to it, and Wade can imagine why he may want that.

He wants to say something along the lines of ‘you’re insane’ or another love confession, but what comes out is a whimper. Logan pauses and comes up to nuzzle his cheek.

“Peanut,” Wade manages to whisper and nuzzles him back. “I get that consent is hot, but if you don’t get back to it right now you’ll make me sad.”

Logan scoffs, but pulls away with one final caress to Wade’s cheek. Then he gets going on his legs.

The visual of one of his ankles hooked over Logan’s shoulder while adamantium claws carve a swirling red pattern into his calf was not on Wade’s list of most intimate experiences, but quickly makes its way to the top of the lot. Logan bends his knee and caresses the skin before he cuts it, slow yet self-assured.

Wade can’t claim he’s ever been happy to be butchered but as they say, there’s a first time for everything. Just his blood flowing steadily over Logan’s claws, onto his palms, his wrists, his forearms, even over his shoulders and chest, is doing things to his mind he’ll never come back from.

It’s the most pleasurable eternity, the hour and a half they spend there, until the sheets are soaked and Wade is boneless with ecstasy and Logan is panting handsomely with the effort. All the wounds have closed within a minute from being carved, yet the intricate red lines remain, the points where they flow and mix and twist about each other.

It’s beautiful, and that’s something Wade hasn’t thought about his own body for a long time.

Logan sits next to him, stretches his legs out until his knees pop. The old man joke is on the tip of Wade’s tongue, but he’s not quite back to the talking stage yet.

They take a couple of minutes to just exist together, to bask in the closeness and the warmth.

Logan looks at him and tilts his head.

“Ready?”

After all that? What a stupid question.

“Open me up, baby!”

Logan starts the same as last time – one collarbone to the other, then two parallel cuts to form a rectangle. Wade sinks into the familiar feeling and lets his eyes drop half shut in preparation for the fun stuff.

The still bizarre sensation of air hitting his internal organs bright him back to full awareness. He looks down, and his lungs look exactly the same as last time. You almost can’t see the cancer, which just not fair. He just had to end up hideous on the outside only.

Logan’s busy – he cuts off Wade’s flesh this time, allowing his body to start regrowing the missing chunk immediately. That sets them on a time frame of about ten minutes until it closes completely, which kind of disappoints Wade. Just a bit. Not that last time lasted more than ten minutes no, but last time they had a job to do, can’t they just have their fun with it now?

Logan kneels above him and hesitates.

“Let me guess,” Wade takes pity on him. “Plans end right about here.”

Logan shrugs.

“Alright …”

Problem is, Wade also has no idea where to go from here. He’d rather avoid another lung amputation, cause that was uncomfortable as hell, but just sitting with his insides on display while his flesh regenerates is boring.

Good old-fashioned stabbing?

He’s just opened his mouth to suggest it when something catches his attention – his own heart, which he can now literally see jackrabbiting in his chest (you never think you’ll say these sorts of sentences until you say them, eh?). It’s a small red clump of muscle beating stubbornly despite all odds. God’s perfect joke.

Looking at it transplants a vision in Wade’s head all telepath style, and he frantically tries to wave his arms to get Logan’s attention (he can’t really, because his pectoral muscles are torn to shit, and it’s good that his abs are too because he unwisely tries to sit up, and having stuff spill out of him now would be a nightmare).

Logan frowns with concern and Wade frantically shakes his head.

“Logan, I need you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“You said you’d do anything?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely anything?”

“For fuck’s sake, Wade, just tell me what you want.”

“I need you to tear out my heart.”

Logan freezes, blinks.

“Come again,” he sounds like he’d very much like the answer to be different this time.

Well too bad, because Wade is aware of time running out and even though they could just do it again, multiple times even, a terrible urgency has overcome his entire being. It needs to happen right now. He grips Logan’s wrist, the only part of him within reach, and stares intently into his eyes.

“Peanut. Logan. I need you to get in there and dig out that tiny little pulsing thing.”

“Innuendo? Right now?”

“It’s how I communicate. Please. You said you’d do anything.”

“Of course I will, but why–”

“Because I want you to,” Wade insists. “Please.”

“Stop begging. I’ll do it.”

“You sure? Cause I kinda think you have a thing for begging,” Wade waggles his eyebrows.

Logan flashes his claws.

“Yes, here we go,” Wade grins.

With a smirk. “Here I come.”

“It’s been a year and a half, gimme a break already!”

“Never.”

And then Logan is pulling his claws back, and next thing Wade knows, his breastbone is caught in a tight grip. Oh yeah, he kind of forgot about the other unpleasant part of their previous similar vivisection – breaking his ribcage hurt like a motherfucker. Not to mention the damage to his lungs.

But oh well – Wade is willing to break an omelette to make a few eggs or however that saying goes.

Logan checks in with him one last time, and Wade nods.

Then there’s a squeeze, a pull, and his breastbone snaps off with surprising ease.

Wade still winces, then coughs, because really, the human body is not meant for any of these things to happen, but quickly he stops paying attention to it. Most of his ribs have broken tips, but they’re growing back already, and Logan’s running out of time.

He knows it too, carefully monitoring everything happening in Wade’s body. He takes one large preparatory breath, then dives in there with both hands.

The wind gets blown out of Wade as he’s reminded of the sensation of hands digging around his chest. This time he also feels them nudging against the slowly growing edges of his ribs and wonders what would happen if Logan just stayed where he is. What if he let Wade’s bones pierce his arms, grow through them and anchor them. What if his flesh grows shut around Logan. Will they be a single being then? Will they stay infinitely together?

Then he’s only thinking about a sharp, yet familiar pain – he’s been hit in the heart plenty of times, unfortunately, felt it stop beating on multiple occasions. This is not that different.

Logan’s hands emerge, dyed completely in Wade’s wet, hot blood, and in his palms he’s cradling that small red lump of muscle.

Wade’s got about twenty seconds until he passes out from the shock. But those twenty seconds are enough.

Enough to see something which will imprint itself into his memory forever. Logan, on his knees, bent down over Wade’s body and gazing reverently at that miniscule piece of him like it’s everything. Logan, who could be a god, hunched in utter devotion over his masterpiece, Wade his altar and his sacrifice and his deity, as golden light from outside halos his form, blurs his edges and renders him sublime.

Enough to see Logan bring that unbeating heart up to his lips.

Enough to hear him whisper to it. “I will love you until the heat death of the universe.”

Now that … that can just straight up kill a guy. Any guy. Wade’s pretty sure that if his heart were still in his chest, it would have exploded. He opens his mouth to tell Logan that, but then the twenty seconds slip past, and Wade surrenders to unconsciousness shrouded in mad euphoria.

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

He wakes to a fondly familiar sight.

Logan is lying next to him, head cushioned on Wade’s chest. Sleeping, or simply dozing. Always listening.

Wade smiles, a small and private thing, and wishes Logan were turned towards him, but alas, he can’t see his face.

A quick glance at the window confirms he hasn’t been out for long – the sun’s barely changed position. A half hour, at most. Wade takes a breath, allows himself a few seconds to check if his new heart is up to speed, then self-diagnoses as Absolutely Peachy.

Ignoring the mind-blowing intimacy, this was one refreshing experience. Ten out of ten.

Counting the mind-blowing intimacy, well …

Wade slowly brings a hand up, testing new muscles, and cards his fingers through Logan’s hair. His eyes wander around the living room and that’s when he sees it: his bloody heart is resting, whole, on top of his upturned breastbone, the literal weirdest possible platter. Someone’s developed a sense of humour. Wade looks at it, mouths you were a real trooper, but then his attention is swept away by his partner stirring.

Logan groans softly as he lifts himself on his elbow and turns to look at Wade. A few flecks of dried blood stick to his cheek, though it’s worth pointing out that he’s quite bloody in general, and Wade feels warm knowing he, once again, did not leave him for a second.

“Hey,” murmurs Logan, eyes half-lidded.

“Hey,” Wade agrees.

Logan smiles, cups the back of his neck, and bumps their foreheads together. He doesn’t quite purr, but it’s a close thing.

“Five minutes,” he requests. “Then aftercare.”

“I’m feeling magnanimous. Five minutes you’ll get.”

Logan pecks him on the lips and stands up, stretching on his way to the bathroom. Wade watches him go bathed in unusually golden light for midday October, and contemplates how lucky he is.

Three minutes later (how expedient!) the now mostly clean Logan returns with the wash basin Blind Al insisted they buy her, and a collection of towels. The water in the basin is steaming and Wade shifts a little in anticipation.

“Oh yeah, spa day,” he whispers to himself.

Logan, of course, hears it and flashes him a self-satisfied grin on his way to deposit his cargo by the couch. Then he returns and sweeps Wade up, sheet and all, into his arms.

“You’ll make a swooning maiden out of me yet, peanut,” Wade sighs and relaxes against his favourite chest in the world.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Logan nods, and carries him to the couch – much softer and less spring-leaden than their previous one. Also cleaner, but that’s neither here nor there.

Wade settles down reclining against a mountain of pillows and throws a look at the carpet – the bloodstain is huge, and that delights him. He’s got no way of knowing if their unfortunate non-asshole downstairs neighbours got a blood shower from this but oh well, shit happens, and he’s quite happy with the mark of his accomplishments.

Logan doesn’t permit his attention to wander for long (he’s got a possessive streak, alright): he sits by Wade’s side and starts on cleaning his arm.

When Wade jokes that everything the Wolverine does is hot, he’s actually not joking at all.

Logan holds his hand and drags the wet towel across his arm, smearing his beautiful blood lines yet looking more than happy to do so. Whenever he makes a clean spot, his lips follow, reverential in their exploration, and Wade’s lungs must be going bad again because he can’t seem to find his breath.

Logan is taking such obvious joy in lavishing Wade’s ruined skin with his affection that it’s hard to see it as anything but deserving of it. He gets lost in it, his eyes slip shut and he forgets to open them, gets careless in his motions, ends up on still crimson skin and gets a red dusting on his beard. He doesn’t even seem bothered by it, tongue dashing out to skin to steal a taste, and Wade supresses a curse in his mouth.

By the time Logan’s diligently kissing across his collarbone, Wade starts thinking up wedding vows. Not that he’ll ever grow the pair to propose, of course, but he will be imagining it for the rest of his life.

As Logan caresses his second elbow before washing it, Wade discovers speech.

“Oh my god.”

Logan grunts to indicate he’s listening.

“Holy fucking shit. Sweet baby unicorns. Peanut, you’ve ruined me.”

Logan glances up at him and hums, right into his skin, then his eyes slip shut again and he continues his meditative pace.

“You hear me? You ruined me. I’m ruined. For everyone else. I’ll never fall in love again.”

“Good.”

Possessive streak indeed.

Wade’s utterly boneless as the tender ministrations continue. His body is too tired for much of anything at first, but he’s always bounced back quickly. And Logan could get a geriatric terminally heterosexual blind and deaf guy to full mast just by looking like this – nosing, mouthing and licking at Wade’s navel like it’s the sweetest drug and he’s hopelessly addicted.

Did he plan this from the beginning? Hard to say. Wade’s not complaining.

His dick eventually is, when it gets achingly hard with no prospect of relief, but for once in his life Wade just tells it to shut up because he wants to enjoy this to the fullest. There’ll be time for sex on their new mattress with the new headboard later. Preferably when his new heart can handle the strain.

Logan is so focused it takes him ducking to Wade’s inner thigh to notice his predicament. He pauses where he is, considering, then glanced back up to Wade.

“Want some help with that?”

His voice is so fucking husky – Wade curses as his cock gives a painful twitch.

They negotiated beforehand to leave sex for two hours after being done at least. Wade’s flexible, but he likes to think of himself as a guy who honours his word.

“I’m good,” he chokes out.

“You sure?”

“If you keep going like this, I’m more than sure.”

Logan contemplates him for a second, then apparently chooses to follow his lead, because he returns to his leisurely veneration. Wade breathes deep and tries to watch him, but the angle’s not quite right so eventually he leans back and closes his eyes to focus on what he can feel.

They spend another eternity like this, and it’s something Wade could grow used to – the warmth of Logan’s hands, the soft caress of the water, the tender brush of lips, the scratch of facial hair. The peace of their synchronised breathing.

Has anyone ever felt such bliss? He doubts it.

Eventually, Logan clears his throat and Wade blinks his eyes open.

The sight that greets him could, again, kill a man on the spot.

Logan, the Wolverine, is lying on his side between his legs and holding onto his knee as he works on his inner thigh.

“Oh, you’ll end me,” Wade groans, but doesn’t mind the prospect.

“Bub.”

“Peanut.”

“I really wanna suck your cock right now.”

Wade blinks. “Huh?” he asks, intelligently.

Logan sighs like he’s suffering. “You have no idea.”

Wade intends to be a decent human being and remind him of their agreement but come on, he’s weak, and even if he weren’t, nobody is strong enough to reject such a request.

“Whatever you want, peanut,” he chokes out. “I’m all yours.”

Logan nuzzles his thigh, as if saying goodbye to it, then climbs back up towards his prize. He glances up at Wade.

“Thanks.”

“Cheeky–” Wade attempts to tease, but then a different type of heat entirely envelops him and the word dies out in his throat.

Now, this is not the first blowjob Logan’s given him, of course not. But the both of them must be drugged, or something, because it feels monumental. Like every dial in Wade’s body has been turned up to eleven, and even the breath Logan releases around him sinks through his skin and into his bones.

Logan’s not even doing all that much – this afternoon’s theme for him seems to be “unhurried” because he drags his tongue flat across Wade’s length slow and lazy. Minimum effort, yet it drives him batshit crazy.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Gosh, just keep going.”

Maybe his new heart is overdoing it (we’re all just a tad too eager when starting a new job), or the entire afternoon of edging is getting to him, but Wade doesn’t last long at all. He tries weakly to push Logan off, because a fair warning is common courtesy, but is not surprised when his stubborn partner stays where he is.

The orgasm is just the cherry on top of his afternoon cake at this point.

Logan’s usually not one for swallowing, but he does it this time. Like he’s loathe to leave even to take care of business in the bathroom.

I hope we both do this until we’re ninety, Wade thinks, a bit hazily, as his body comes down from its high and he finds himself in a gelatinous state once again.

Logan lies on top of his belly and murmurs another: “Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wade lazily waves him off, then yawns. Widely. “I live to please. Speaking off, want me to–”

“Later,” Logan shakes his head, then slowly stands up. He resumes his self-imposed duty with no less attention, and Wade thinks he might just fall asleep simply because he’s not able to take it.

“Goodness, I love you. So much. We have to do this again. Make it a thing. A yearly thing.”

Logan hums neutrally.

“A ritual of sorts. A sacrifice to the great cruel goddess Mary Puppins.”

Logan frowns and glances up at him at that.

“Didn’t I tell you? I promised that if I ever get another internal organ removed I’d give it to her.”

“Wade,” Logan sighs, long-suffering.

“Nuh-uh, peanut, we’re doing it. You don’t wanna make a liar out of me, do you?”

His partner shakes his head like he’s tired of nonsense, then his breath returns to ghosting across Wade’s skin like that’s its sole purpose.

“I mean it. Once a year, peanut. At least. An anniversary thing.”

“If you just want the afterca–”

“Babygirl, I cannot even begin to explain to you how much I want the whole package.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“No promises.”

Logan grunts and continues. It’s not quite the full agreement Wade wants, but he has time to wear him down eventually.

“I gotta give it to you, sparkle tits, you’ve gotten better at aftercare. Much better. Only thing missing is the candles.”

Logan, head not raising from underneath Wade’s bent-up knee, jerks a hand in the direction of the window. Wade automatically turns to look there and nearly does a double take. On their coffee table, in a little porcelain holder Wade’s fairly sure they’ve never owned, a single candle merrily burns away.  

He stares at it, dumbfounded.

“When did you light this?” he demands.

“Before we started,” Logan’s voice is low and slurry, like he really is drugged, and it does wonderful things to Wade’s ego.

“Is it scented?”

“Vanila.”

“I’m so proud of you for that situational joke.”

Logan hums, then angles Wade’s leg further up to get going at his calf. The water is growing slightly cooler now, but he’s diligent about supplementing with his palms and breath, so it’s all good.

“Logan, I’m in love with you.”

“So you say.”

“Say it back. Once. Casually,” Wade stresses, because he really cannot handle much more right now.

“I love you.”

“Too much,” he groans, squeezes his eyes tightly shut.

“I’m in love with you.”

“Way too fucking much.”

“I worship–”

“Logan, stop!”

Logan chuckles.

“Never thought I’d see the day you tell me to shut up,” he points out happily.

“Miracles do exist, peanut.”

“They sure do, bub.”

With that, Logan gets going on his other leg. He seems to find more energy there because he sits up and presses Wade’s foot to his (still blessedly naked) chest to wash it clean.

“You’re trying to kill me,” Wade realises.

Logan chuckles, and his breath tingles across Wade’s knee.

“The most elaborate assassination attempt in history.”

To get his side, Logan somehow lodges himself between Wade and the back of the couch, and it’s a painfully tight fit. He can’t look at what he’s doing with his face pressed into Wade’s neck, so it’s all handwork, and he wants to be very sure. They spilled a lot more blood this time, after all.

Wade’s writhing from the slide of warm, rough fingers into the dip of his waist. He swears he’s not ticklish, but come on. Anyone would die from this.

Then Logan slowly turns him on his front because his back is a mess of crimson streaks, and Wade keeps on with that vow composition.

“Pretty sure I’m clean, peanut,” he manages to slur out after twenty minutes of Logan just trailing kisses across his shoulder blades.

Logan hums in acknowledgement and doesn’t move away.

“Stubborn little honey badger,” Wade whispers and surrenders to his fate – death by too much bliss.

Logan’s determined to bring it to him too, because after he’s done with the bath, he switches to a very thorough, very dedicated full-body massage. He’s mostly doing it for the warmth, Wade can tell, but by God, that man knows how to work sore muscles.

“Where’d you learn to do that, the army?”

“Did the army teach you swordsmanship?”

“Fuck no. I learned watching Princess Bride like everyone else.”

Logan does complete his task eventually and simply lies across his back like the world’s manliest, burliest weighted blanket. Wade sighs into the pillow.

He maybe sleeps for a bit, or maybe not, he’s not sure. The only thing he’s aware of is Logan climbing off of him and leisurely stroking the back of his head.

“Hungry?”

“I could eat,” Wade tries to shrug, but none of his melted muscles feel inclined to work.

“Two minutes,” Logan covers him with the decorative blanket before he slips away.

Wade counts the seconds.

One hundred and fifty-four seconds later (clumsy, peanut, clumsy) Logan drops something by the couch and frees Wade from the blanket and the soiled sheets.

“Turn over.”

Wade does, then Logan is passing him something and climbing in behind him. Wade barely manages to focus on not dropping his food as Logan wraps both arms around his waist and pulls him back against his chest, legs bracketing him on both sides.  

They’ve been sleeping together (as in literally sleeping next to each other on the same bed, get your heads out of the gutter!) for a year and a half, cuddles are nothing new. This shred of familiarity in a sea of things that feel overwhelming and new is a relief, and Wade sinks into it for the chance to clear his head of the most prolonged afterglow of his life. Logan hooks his chin on his shoulder and purrs, that deep, guttural humming sound he makes deep in his chest when he’s happy, and all’s right with the universe.

Wade glances down and notices he’s holding a bowl of diced fruit.

“Did you pre-prepare this?” he asks, incredulously.

Logan grunts in confirmation.

Wade blinks to assimilate this.

“Exactly how many steps does your aftercare plan include?”

“A couple more.”

“I will not survive it.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Wade idly picks at the juiciest bits – some kiwi, a couple banana slices. Ooohhh, pear, he loves those!

He’s halfway done snacking and enjoying himself when he idly brings his sticky fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. Logan, idly, catches his wrist, brings it over, and does it himself.

Again, technically nothing new, but Wade melts (that’s also nothing new but shhh, keep it a secret). He’s truly turning into a swooning maiden.

Logan observes his handywork critically and seems to deign it good enough because he releases Wade’s wrist, but not before delivering a slow caress to his pulse point.

“What do you want?” he asks, casual enough, but Wade sees the look in his eyes and knows he would do anything.

“I want you more naked.”

“Later. Eat.”

Wade obliges, but he’s very, very impatiently thinking about later.

Link to fic (for self-plagiarism avoiding purposes): https://archiveofourown.org/works/58375663

[themculibrary]

Yondu Masterlist

ain’t no river wide enough (ao3) - xahra99 T, 10k

Summary: “It’s okay to be afraid. But don’t ever let fear stop ya from doin’ what ya think ya gotta.” Peter and Yondu head down planetside for some Ravager-style life lessons. Unsurprisingly, things don’t go to plan. Set before the first movie. One-shot. Complete.

ain’t no road just like it (ao3) - xahra99 G, 3k

Summary: “Don’ t see why you’re so bothered. Not like he’s your kid.” Kraglin and Yondu argue over Quill, or, how Kraglin ends up with the Zune Yondu bought for Peter. Set between the first and second movies. Gen. Complete.

base of support (ao3) - interabang T, 3k

Summary: The Guardians discover that Yondu would do anything (when he feels like it) to give Peter help when he needs it.

celestial aegis (ao3) - Jastra T, 6k

Summary: During a skirmish between Ravagers and rivaling pirate group, young Peter gets grabbed by the enemy leader. Yondu shows the pirates what happens when someone dares to hurt his boy.

father figure (ao3) - laylabinx T, 27k

Summary: Five times Yondu maybe, kinda, sorta, almost claimed Peter as a son and one time he totally did. Nothing too intense, just a little Yondu/Peter father-ish/son-ish bonding-ish. Almost entirely pre-movie.

fox on the run (ao3) - Sholio T, 13k

Summary: When bounty hunters get the drop on Yondu, 11-year-old Peter is the only person in a position to do anything about it.

go for the throat (ao3) - laylabinx T, 9k

Summary: Peter finds out the hard way what it means to be the Ravager mascot and Yondu uses this as an opportunity to teach him how to kick someone’s ass.

Highway To Hell (ao3) - MeganBStrange T, 49k

Summary: Yondu dies in the arms of his son, and wakes up with a second chance.

Yondu's gonna try and do better this time, but lets face it he's still gonna fuck it up. It's the thought that counts.

i got a landmine in my bloodline (ao3) - laylabinx T, 23k

Summary: Peter develops appendicitis. Yondu develops a heart. It’s all very problematic.

peter quill and the (mostly) terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day (ao3) - rohanrider3 Rating: Teen And Up

Summary: In which Ego is a jackass, Yondu gets (temporarily) mind-controlled, Peter survives an insane amount of insanity in a short period of time, it isn’t wise to (SIMULTANEOUSLY) tick off the Guardians of the Galaxy, the Ravagers, and the Nova Corps…

Oh. Also, Meredith Quill is, somehow, back from the dead. And hurting her son? Yeah. You just made a _huge_ mistake.

(AU of Guardians Vol. 2 where Ego pulls a Xanatos Gambit and tries to distract Nova Corps, frame Yondu, and kill the Guardians before taking Peter. It doesn’t go as well as he’d planned. Also, Mantis is a little younger in this version, about 13 or so.)

Pitbull (ao3) - jellybeanforest T, 9k

Summary: Quill is not built to be a Ravager. Much too small and soft in all meanings of the word, the boy will be dead within the year if Yondu can’t break and remold him into something useful. So he decides to take Quill out on solo missions to train him, greatly taxing his already limited patience. Unfortunately, on one of their outings, Yondu’s past comes back to haunt them in the form of a Kree bounty hunter contracted by Yondu’s original owner: his breeder. Now, he must save himself and his young protégé from a life of slavery before they reach Hala.

Red (ao3) - jackfish (Delphi) yondu/kraglin M, 4k

Summary: Eyes, skies, uniforms, and killings—instances of the colour red in the life of Kraglin Obfonteri.

the fault in distant stars (ao3) - Donatello7 T, 11k

Summary: Prompt fill for LilRed7503

‘peter abused back on earth, by someone don’t care who. With the ravagers he’s terrified not because they kidnapped him but because their adults. It takes Yondu no time at all to figure out, especially since Peter keeps flinching expecting a slap. Yondu + ravagers prove to Peter that nothing is his fault and he didn’t deserve it’

The Future Is Yet Unwritten (ao3) - Rebel_Atar yondu/kraglin E, 15k

Summary: An encounter with a strange artefact forever changes Yondu's life and now he is determined to change his death too.

The Way We Were (ao3) - effiegogo yondu/kraglin T, 16k

Summary: After a crash, Yondu can't remember the last seven years of his life, including being exiled by Stakar Ogord and the acquisition of a certain Terran child.

Watch The Wall (ao3) - Run_Ravager_Run yondu/kraglin T, 49k

Summary: Peter Quill, abducted at eight, settles into life as a very small boy in a very big galaxy. He cheats, he lies, he steals. And he shuts his eyes and covers his ears, whenever Yondu tells him.

[felicitysmoaksx]

Hi Everyone and welcome to my project for the last month and a half! This has been so much fun to write and I'm really excited to finally share it with you all! Hopefully, you all enjoy it as much as I have because this fic is the longest one I've written from start to finish! (Oh yeah, it's already finished by the way! All 27k of it) And I'm stepping out of my comfort zone big time with this fic and I wrote it a little bit differently than my other fics so I hope it comes across well!

If you want to set the mood for this chapter, I recommend Lavender Haze by Taylor Swift because that kind of help to inspire Sarah and Connor's relationship.

Happy reading!

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI 18+)

Summary: Blue eyes flicked down to his lover asleep once more. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. There was not a doubt in his mind that he knew Sarah. At least where it counted. He knew what kind of person she was. He knew her heart. But he didn’t know the stories of what made her heart the way that he knew it.

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: Sexual Content, Depictions of parental abandonment, vague depictions (at the moment but will go into more detail in later chapters) of violence.

Read On AO3 | Fic Playlist | Want to be tagged when I post a Rheese story?

Hold On, I Still Want You

Sarah panted heavily as she leaned against Connor’s broad shoulder. Her lips pressed against his neck as their pleasurable highs continued to wane. 

“I think it’s official. I definitely like you on top more.” He panted in her ear, his hand drawing feather-light patterns on her back. Sarah laughed softly before angling her head up to meet his eyes. He laughed when he saw her brown eyes dancing mischievously. Then he leaned in and stole a kiss and a wanton whimper escaped her as he rolled them over and slipped out of her. Disposing of the condom by throwing it in the trash can by his nightstand.

“Be right back,” he mumbled against her lips, then he slipped out of the warmth of her hold and the bed. She watched as he made his way to the bathroom, biting her lip at the sight of his back muscles constricting. Those powerful back muscles that lifted and kept her from falling every time they did this. (Some people loved abs or biceps. Or even asses. Sarah being the unconventional one, loved powerful backs and their muscles) When he disappeared from her view, Sarah turned on her side, eyes shutting as she curled up under the blanket. 

When they first started this arrangement over three months ago, Sarah used to start searching for her clothes immediately after. Until Connor asked her to come back to bed. (Because Connor Rhodes was a cuddler after sex. Who knew?) Now, the curly-haired brunette didn’t move much more than to stretch out in his bed. 

It was a little while later when the warmth of the blanket was replaced with cool air against her skin that made her groan as she curled more into herself. 

“Sorry,” Connor said, but he was chuckling as he apologized. Then she felt a hand on her knee and a warm dampness on her thighs. She peeled an eye open to a sight that made warmth unfurl in her stomach. It always did. 

“You don’t have to do that.” Sarah insisted. Like clockwork, Connor peered up at her with his blue eyes hooded, after he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. Sarah squirmed at the feel of his beard against her skin. It always tickled in the most delicious way. “I know.” 

Then he continued cleaning her up. None of her past boyfriends (not that Connor was her boyfriend) so much as offered her a wash rag to clean herself up. Let alone do it for her. When she brought this up to the double-certified surgeon though, he just shrugged. 

“The difference between boys and men,” he said simply, while he shook his head disapprovingly. Then he grabbed the wash rag from her and started to clean her up himself. From that conversation stemmed this routine they had now. It was unfairly intimate and arousing all at once. Leave it to Connor Rhodes to make something like this so unbelievably hot. When he was finished, Connor threw the rag in the laundry basket. 

“I can’t stay the night. I have no clean clothes and I didn’t bring any with me,” she told him as he climbed back under the sheets and snuggled up against her. Connor hummed as he squeezed her in tighter to him. “You do. I did laundry the other day and washed what you left here last week.”

That same warmth from before was back. Sometimes with moments like this. It was easy to forget that Connor Rhodes wasn’t her boyfriend.

“Connor?” Sarah whispered. The man behind her hummed again. There was a pause before the curly-haired brunette admitted, “I have to pee.” 

Chuckling Connor lifted his arm so Sarah could go, which she did with a sheet wrapped around her body. 

“Three months of us doing this and you still can’t be naked in front of me?” Connor teased with one hand propping up his head when she came back. Sarah rolled her eyes. She dropped the sheet in favor of picking up the shirt he discarded earlier that night. He snorted as she pulled the large shirt over her frame.

“Not my fault you keep it freezing in here. Not everyone is a furnace like you.” She retorted, as she climbed back into the bed. Her legs caged in his left thigh as she tried to climb over him to get to her side of the bed.

“Good thing you have me to keep you warm then.” He said easily, pulling her back into his arms. She gave a small shriek as she was thrown off balance that turned into muffled laughter as Connor kissed her. His arms were warm and his heart was steady. She noticed later as she rolled over, her ear pressed against his chest. But he wasn’t hers. It was getting increasingly hard to remember that the longer their arrangement went on. 

For months, it went on like this. At the end of their shifts, she would slip into his car and they would head back to his apartment. Or if they went to Molly’s, they would each have a drink before catching each other’s eye with a gleam in them. Someone nodded at the other. Then they would make an excuse before disappearing together. Sarah wasn’t ashamed to say that’s probably where her newfound taste and interest in rum came from, considering she could taste the after-tones of it on Connor’s lips after their nights at Molly. 

But Connor Rhodes: double certified surgeon, wasn’t her boyfriend. A mantra that she repeated in her head many times a day. Especially by month five when Erin came over for dinner and noticed half of her stuff was gone (Sarah knew she had been leaving a few things at…it felt wrong to call him a booty-call but wasn’t that what he was, and he was not her boyfriend and they were getting off subject. Sarah knew she had left a few things at Connor’s but she didn’t realize that half of her closet was missing.) because she had wandered into Sarah’s bedroom to get the necklace her pseudo-sister had borrowed for a charity event at the hospital. 

“Where is your stuff?” Erin asked as she came back to the kitchen. The necklace in her hand. 

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked, glancing up at her from where she was chopping an onion. She had found a new recipe for vegetarian spaghetti. 

“Half of your closet is gone. I couldn’t even find the dress I helped you pick out for that charity event.” Erin told her. The curly brunette gave a slight wince. Her pseudo-sister wouldn’t find the skin-tight formal dress because it was at Connor’s. Probably at the bottom of his hamper…He had peeled it off of her that night after the charity event and had been delightfully surprised to find that she hadn’t been wearing anything underneath the skin-tight fabric. 

Sarah shivered. That was also the night he had performed a very special mock-up open heart surgery on her…where he traced a path to the incision sites with his lips and made fake incisions with his tongue, all while explaining to her what would be happening. 

She never thought medical terminology could be so arousing, but like everything else, Connor just seemed to have that seamless way to make everything hot. She blushed, realizing Erin was still staring at her through her daydream. 

“Where is it, Sarah?” The police detective asked, seeing the blush. Sarah ignored her and went back to chopping the onion. A grin crept on the other woman’s face as she asked teasingly, “Sarah Athena Reese, have you been seeing someone you haven’t told me about?”

“The recipe calls for tomatoes but I know you don’t care for them. Would you mind digging them out? Or I could just not add them?” 

“You’re avoiding my question.” Her pseudo-sister continued to grin, knocking her shoulder into Sarah’s. The brunette didn’t dignify that with a response.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” Erin broke the silence, laughing as she did so. “Keep your secret boyfriend to yourself. But I’ll find out eventually.”

But Connor Rhodes wasn’t her boyfriend. They just slept together, had unbelievable sex, and…hung out sometimes after. (And more, but Sarah wasn’t willing to let herself see the relationship yet.) But Sarah knew if she tried to explain that to Erin, her pseudo-sister would ask a lot of questions and try to make her arrangement with Connor more than what it was. Because whatever she had with the double-certified surgeon was light, fun, and easy. 

Even if it was easy to forget he wasn’t hers. 

Until Robin Charles blew back in town a few weeks later because her mother was possibly going to be participating in a new clinical trial for a new cancer medication. And bringing with her an uncertainty that Sarah was sure hadn’t been there with Connor before. A feeling that was only reinforced when Ava Bekker came into the psych ward’s doctors’ lounge and started to rant to Sarah about how some kind of heart surgery that Connor had done with Robin’s advice. 

“The surgery turned out alright…this time! But Robin Charles doesn’t even have a background in general surgery let alone CT. So what about the next surgery when it doesn’t work out so well because Rhodes trusted an epidemiologist and not another surgeon?”

When Sarah remained silent, the blonde winced as if she realized who she was talking to. “Oh…I’m sorry Reese, you probably don’t want to hear about your boyfriend being all chummy with his ex-girlfriend.”

Shaking her head, the third-year resident continued to pour her coffee. She set the coffee pot back in its place, “He’s not my boyfriend. He can be all chummy with whoever he wants.”

“Then what do you call two months ago, when I caught you two making out on the roof?” Ava asked with a furrowed brow. A large pull of her coffee and then the brunette responded nonchalantly, “Stress relief?” 

Before her friend could comment or ask another question, Sarah was saved by her pager going off. Someone in the ED needed a psych consult. She set the cup down and started to make her way out of the lounge. “I gotta go,”   

In the elevator, Sarah found herself thinking about Robin Charles. It wasn’t that Sarah didn’t like the epidemiologist. On the contrary, Sarah thought that given the chance she and Robin could’ve been really good friends and the other woman was always nice to her when they did interact. 

But Robin Charles was also Connor’s last serious girlfriend. The one she was the rebound from. Sarah was a little jealous of the woman. She got to have Connor in a way the brunette didn’t And maybe that made her feel a little insecure too if she was being completely honest with herself. But did she have the right to be? She had told Ava Connor wasn’t her boyfriend and he wasn’t her friend either. 

Connor rubbed a towel down her body, his lips ghosting behind every spot the towel had been. The shower had been his idea. Sarah had been distant and wasn’t talking to him about what was bothering her. So he suggested a shower because that always helped him clear his head after a long day. 

He finished drying her off with their bodies pressed together. Skin pressed to skin and his lips pressed to hers in a gentle meeting of their lips. 

“Everything okay?” He questioned when he pulled back. He scanned her figure when she hummed in response. As if there was a physical reason for her quietness. But he found nothing but her freckles and soft skin.“It’s just usually I have to fight your laughter to keep you still when I do this and this time, I didn’t.” 

“Yeah, I just have a lot on my mind,” she told him quietly, reaching for her underwear and bra. Instead of telling him how seeing him and Robin interacted today brought an uneasy pang to her heart. One that was most definitely not conducive to their relationship right now. Because Connor wasn’t hers. She had no claim, no reason to be jealous of the other woman. 

His eyes narrowed for a moment before he nodded, accepting her answer for now while she slipped her underwear and bra on. She’d come to him when she was ready. With her undergarments on, he rested his hands on her waist as he traced circles into her skin.

“So…I have something I want to ask you,” Connor started, changing the subject while he nosed his way down her neck and back. Now, this earned him a small giggle that bubbled out of her mouth, “Don’t you think you should put on your boxers first?”

Then proving the point of her question, Sarah reached out and grabbed his dick. A small smirk split her lips when he cursed and bucked up into her. His length was already half hardening in her hand. 

“You sure you want to start something? After you just put your underwear on?” He growled at her. A shiver went down her spine. That tone of voice always promised good things for her in his bed. But she still wanted to rile him up a little more. So giving him her most innocent look, she squeezed him and batted her eyes. He groaned low in his throat as she pumped him and whispered teasingly, “Me? Start something? I don’t know what you mean…”

He looked at her for a beat.  Another bat of her eyes and the curly-haired brunette barely had time to catch the dark gleam in his blue eyes before he leaned down, his tongue colliding with hers as he pulled her into a bruising kiss. She moaned and started backing her way to his bedroom. He followed for half a step before he reached down to grab the back of her thighs and picked her up. Her squeals then her peals of laughter echoed in his ears as he carried her over his shoulder the rest of the way. 

“So about what I wanted to ask you before you so kindly distracted me,” Connor called from his place in the bed while she brushed her teeth, sometime later in the night.

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” She spat in the sink one last time. Then she smiled to herself and decided to forgo the floss for the night. From where she stood, she saw Connor roll his eyes at her, propping his head up with his hand. He was smirking at her, “I wouldn’t complain. I had you in my bed, naked and moaning in my ear... But back to what I wanted to ask you. Tomorrow night: I’m having dinner with my sister and Robin. I was wondering if you wanted to join us?”

A pang of that uneasy uncertainty went through her stomach as she made her way to the door and leaned against the frame. Because that was the difference between her and Robin Charles. Robin had been the girl Connor dated, been seen with, and had shown off at numerous events. She had even met his sister. 

Sarah on the other hand was just the girl he slept with. Sure, it wasn’t all about the sex, she knew that. It was the way he cooked for her, did her laundry, and invited her to stay over.

 If she was a normal booty call to him, he wouldn’t have done any of that. And they had hung out sometimes. Because that’s all she was to guys like Connor Rhodes. It wasn’t news to Sarah; it had been that way most of her adult life, (Parker had kind of seared that into her head when he asked to be exclusive and then she found out he had another girlfriend) but it still stung every time she was reminded of that.

(If only the jealousy and insecurity weren’t blinding her to the fact that Connor was essentially asking her on a date and testing the waters of pushing their relationship to the next level)   

“Sarah?” Sarah blinked before realizing Connor had been calling her name. She shook her head. “Sorry, I was thinking about what I had going on tomorrow and I can’t. I have a family thing.”

She really did have other plans. Little Daniel’s birthday dinner with Justin, Olive, Erin, and Hank. It was a family dinner so she was expected to be there. She didn’t mind. Her pseudo-father always made the best food and she had already bought Danny a gift. Besides that, Hank wanted her to talk to Justin. He was a little worried about him and according to the other man, no one had Justin’s ear like she did. 

“I didn’t know you had family in the city,” Connor commented as she made her way back to the bed.  She shrugged her shoulders because technically she didn’t. 

Her actual father hadn’t been seen in the city since she was a kid and Erin…Erin wasn’t really her sister. Sarah was just the girl left behind that Erin and Teddy got stuck with. When Erin made her deal with Hank at sixteen, she didn’t have to include her and Sarah not being separated as a stipulation. But she did. 

Now here Sarah was, twenty-two years later, still in Chicago where she was left at the age of five. 

When she was situated in bed, her legs around one of his, Connor wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her forehead. “Night Sarah,” 

“Night Connor,” But it’d be hours before Sarah would get to sleep. Feeling the rise and fall of his chest at her back as he slept, the uncertainty, insecurity, and jealousy kept her awake. But also guilt, because Robin Charles had been nothing but kind to her, and the only reason she was jealous and insecure, was her own damn fault because she let this arrangement go this far. 

Because she had developed feelings for Connor Rhodes.

She wasn’t quite Connor’s friend, because friends didn’t stick their tongues down each other’s throats like they were prone to do with each other. She wasn’t his girlfriend even though he was wrapped around her like a very large space heater right now.  

Did she even have the right to feel jealous when she really only had Connor without really having him? 

“Do we really have to get up?” Sarah grumbled nuzzling deeper into Connor’s chest the next morning. Those negative feelings from the night before were nowhere to be found in her half-asleep state. She felt him chuckle and she groaned, wrapping her arms around his chest to keep him still. It was still dark outside.

“I think so. We both have to be at the hospital at eight and someone needs to make the coffee because you are very cranky without it. I’ve seen you.” A hand trailed down her back as he explained all of this in a gruff voice, that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with sleep, near her ear. She hummed, peering up at his alarm clock. Then when she saw the time, she grinned mischievously at him, “We could get up right now. Or we could stay in bed for as long as possible, get coffee on the way to work, and in exchange…”

She leaned in to whisper the rest in his ear, “…I will let you help me get undressed before I have to get dressed for the day.”

“Keep talking,” Connor murmured, his hand already slipping under her borrowed shirt to undo her bra with one hand. Sarah felt the garment go slack against her skin. “Because you know there is a big chunk of time between now and then. So what are we going to do with all that time on our hands after you’re undressed?” 

“Well, that all depends on you.” She whispered back before she leaned in and her tongue played coyly with his for a moment as they kissed. When Sarah pulled away, he groaned and tried to chase her lips but she pushed back against his chest with a teasing smile. “And how’s that?”

“I’m letting you pick if I’m on top or bottom.” 

“Interesting, what’s the difference between the two?” He asked amusedly, eyes dropping to watch as her hands undo a single button slowly. Then another and another and another. Till the shirt was open. Her unclasped bra fell loosely off of her shoulders and she let it drop on his stomach. His eyes darkened as he licked his lips at the swell of her breast being at his eye level. Her cheeks blushed a deep red. How could just a look from him have heat already rushing to her core?

“If I’m on bottom, you fuck me or if I’m on top, I fuck you.” The second the words were off of her lips, the surgeon surged up and kissed her. Then with those quick reflexes and surgeon hands, he had her pinned to the bed. Sarah giggled when she felt the skin of her back hit the sheets. Then she felt his hands interlocked with hers and were pinned above her head. Her giggles were stopped abruptly and moans of pleasure took their place.

“And if I wanted both?” He rasped lowly against her neck as he kissed his way down her neck. Then down her chest, biting softly at the swell of her breast he had been admiring. He sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. She cried out as she told him, “Depends on how fast we both-ooooh do that again please-come!”

“Foreplay?” He questioned with a grin as she arched up to him. He did as she requested and nipped at her other nipple gently and was rewarded with a loud moan.

She cried out again then moaned, “What-ohhh I love it when you tease me like this-what do you call this?” 

He grinned and adjusted his body so his dick was against her heated core. Then he thrust once against the fabric of her boyshorts to tease her and she moaned again before he rasped in her ear, “Making sure you’re wet and slick enough for me to take you as slowly as I want.  You all spread out like this, looking like a feast makes me want to take my time and savor making love to you.”

Sarah was so caught up in how he made her feel that she missed his words and only registered the heady tone in which he spoke… Physical moments like this made the feelings of uncertainty and insecurities disappear as if they never existed. (Somewhere in the back of her mind, Sarah knew hiding from her insecurities like this wasn’t good.) 

They never actually made it to her being on top though because he made love to her until the sun was coming up and then they finally had to get dressed for the day. 

It wasn’t until the curly-haired brunette ran into the epidemiologist later that day in the hospital cafeteria. The other woman stopped and talked to her for Sarah’s whole lunch break while they ate. And when they were finished, Robin Charles hugged her and said she wished she had more time to catch up with her.

Were they even supposed to catch up with each other? Sarah wondered dimly, in the self-deprecating part of her brain. They hadn’t been friends when Robin left. She had just been the epidemiologist’s psychiatrist and not a very good one at that; she hadn’t even been able to get Robin’s diagnosis right. 

Those feelings of insecure and jealous came back and ate at her. And with that came the guilt, because Robin Charles was once again, being nothing but nice to her. 

“Okay, you’ve been quiet all day yesterday and I ignored it because you said you were okay. But you’re still being quiet today and not to sound egotistical but it only seems like it’s around me. Because I saw you talking to Choi earlier and you were fine. So what’s going on? Did I do something?” Connor’s hand came to rest on her lower back as he followed her into the lounge after her shift was over. 

As she gathered her stuff, Sarah cast a wary glance at her...Hell, she didn’t even know what to call him anymore. Because Connor Rhodes wasn’t her boyfriend. He wasn’t her friend either. Friends did not know how you looked when you wanted to be fucked before disappearing together. They were just sleeping together. 

No one even knew they were doing that (except Ava but that was because she caught them on the roof two months ago, passing a piece of gum between them as they made out like a couple of lovesick teenagers) 

That uncertain feeling was back. But she tried to quash it as she faced the man in front of her. She wanted to go back to this morning. She wanted to go back and just stay in that warm bubble of his room, his arms. Never let it pop. 

How could she explain that she was feeling jealous for no reason (in her head) Not to mention insecure too because she was no Robin Charles. 

“Sarah?” Connor prompted again, in a soft voice. His hand trailed down her arm to hers, squeezing her fingers. Sarah’s gaze found his. His eyes, his piercing blue eyes that she could drown in, were soft and sad as he silently pleaded with her to just tell him what was wrong. She opened her mouth to explain somehow without it coming out that she was jealous of his ex-girlfriend. But then his phone lit up in his other hand as he was trying to put it away and the name on it said: ROBIN CHARLES. 

Her own phone buzzed in her back pocket. She knew that was Justin. He said he would pick her up from work today since Olive had him already out to get Danny’s cake for his first birthday tonight. 

She chose to take that as a sign that the universe was saying she shouldn’t tell him anything. So Sarah gave him a tight smile. “It’s nothing important. I’m just in my head right now. But I have to go, okay?”

Connor looked doubtful but nodded as he pulled her into a kiss. “See you tomorrow?”

Sarah shook her head as she tried to smile at him. It was hard when she knew this was probably their last kiss. “I have tomorrow off. But you have a nice time at your dinner with Robin.” 

And that’s when she knew she had made a mistake. Maybe it was her tone of voice or the fact that she had only mentioned the epidemiologist and not his sister, but she could see it the moment the dots connected in his head. “Sarah-”

The third-year resident turned away from him to grab Danny’s birthday gift out of her locker. She didn’t let him finish his thought as she slung her backpack over her shoulder.

“I’ll see you later, Connor. Have fun tonight,” she said over her shoulder before she darted out of the lounge before Connor could say anything else. Or catch her wrist like he tried to with the word, “Wait,” on his lips.

If only Sarah knew she’d make her way to Chicago Med the next day...in an ambulance...with a bullet wound in the side of her neck. All because her talk with Justin had been pushed back a day and her best friend hadn’t been falling back into old habits. He was trying to protect a woman.

If only Sarah knew how Connor reacted when he saw it was her on the gurney. How Ava constantly was pushing him back to the elevator before that...before he could see who it was. How she told him there was a mistake that he was paged because she had it. It was her case now. 

If only Sarah knew how Connor almost fell to the floor if Jay and Will hadn’t been there to steady him. How Erin Lindsay looked from her unmoving body to Connor with suspicious eyes. If only...

Even before she closed the door to Justin’s car, her phone was buzzing. A quick glance told her it was Connor calling her. She ignored both it and the pointed look her best friend threw her way at the first red light they came to.

“That the secret boyfriend?” Justin asked, feigning a lightness. But Sarah rolled her eyes, “Did Erin talk to you?” 

“She told me you’ve been seeing someone for the last few months and you hadn’t told her about him yet. She’s a little concerned that’s all. Especially when she learned neither Olive nor I knew about him either.” 

“One: You’ve been busy with Daniel and Olive, and your job. Two: he’s not my boyfriend, we’re just sleeping together.” 

“So what like a fuck buddy?” He asked, flicking on his turn signal. Though they looked the same on the surface, the heat that rose to her cheeks now was of embarrassment and not of pleasure like this morning. 

“It’s not… like that.” Sarah sputtered a little. (It was like that and she knew that.) Her best friend glanced at her before he pulled out into the street. Justin huffed, “You just said he’s not your boyfriend. And I know he’s not your husband because I would’ve heard about that long before now from my dad. So fuck buddies.” 

“Fine. But can we not refer to it like that? Please. It sounds so…raunchy and not in a good way..” 

“Friends with Benefits then. But you don’t seem like the type to do no strings attached.” She wasn’t.  Maybe that’s why she was having such a hard time with this…Robin’s sudden reappearance because despite her efforts, her heart was a string that was trying to attach itself to Connor. But he wasn’t hers to keep or get attached to.

“After Joey, I was so tired of dating. I just wanted some fun. Something easy and-” her phone buzzed twice in quick succession. A text from Connor. Sarah ignored it. If he and Robin were getting back together, she didn’t want to see the ‘Thanks for the last six months’ text right now. “He was fun.”

“He’s not anymore?” Justin asked. 

She sighed. Her best friend never pulled punches with her, “No he is. I just…I screwed up and developed feelings for him. And I think he’s going to get back together with his last ex.” 

“Okay I’m going to ask you a question and I don’t want to know the answer but I have a voice in my head asking the question. Are you being safe with him?” 

Sarah felt her mouth drop open. “Did you seriously just ask me that? When we are on the way to your son’s birthday party?”

 “That doesn’t answer my question, Sarah.” 

“You always choose the worst times to be an overprotective big brother.” 

“Sarah,”

“Not to mention I am turning twenty-eight years old in four months and-”

“Sarah!” Justin said loudly.

“Yes,” the brunette huffed exasperatedly with a shake of her head, “Besides the fact that I’m on birth control, we use a condom every time. And before you ask, yes. We’re both clean too.”

That was one of the very first conversations they had with each other after the third time it happened. They moved from how they both were clean and had only been with one past ex in the last six months before they had started sleeping together very quickly. Then she broached the subject of protection. That was also the first time he asked her to stay.

Connor's labored breath was in her ear for a moment and then it disappeared as he slipped out of her and fell on his back next to her. Sarah lay there, trying to catch her breath. Then after a minute or two, she got up and started to look for her discarded clothes, with a sheet wrapped around her frame. 

“So,” he drawled as watched her after he discarded the condom in the trash. The brunette looked up and caught his eyes dark and his pupils were still dilated with desire. Her cheeks flooded with heat. “Is there a reason why you start searching for your clothes immediately after and leave? I don’t bite…”

She raised an eyebrow at him, despite the heat in her cheeks. He grinned wolfishly at her before he amended, “Unless you ask me to.”

“I just figured you would want your bed to yourself…You actually want me to stay?”

“Unless you don’t want to.”

Sarah just blinked at him, her jeans hanging limply in her hands. So Connor reached out a hand to grab her wrist. He gave it a loose tug, in case she just didn’t want to stay, but something told him that wasn’t the case. “Come back to bed, Sarah.”

“You sure?”

He nodded, giving her wrist another loose tug. So Sarah folded her jeans and set them back on the floor. Then climbed back into Connor’s bed. His lips pressed to her forehead in a lingering kiss. “I’m going to clean myself up real quick. Do you want me to bring you back a wash rag to clean yourself up?” 

“Um, sure?” No one had ever offered her a wash rag before. He nodded, then he pecked her lips and stood up, and made his way to the bathroom. (This might have also been where her love affair with his back muscles first started)

“Can I ask you a question?” Sarah asked when he came back. He nodded, handing her the rag. But not before saying, “After what we just did thirty minutes ago, you don’t have to ask, to ask me a question.”

“Oh, okay...I just…You don’t complain about wearing a condom. And I guess I’m wondering why?”

“Am I supposed to? It’s something you asked me to do when we sleep together. And I want you to feel secure and comfortable when we’re together.” He shrugged and noticed she wasn’t using the rag, “Did I make it hot? Too cold?” 

“Other guys I’ve been with have had an issue with it.” She started to explain then glanced down at the rag, “Oh, um…no. I’m just…”

“Let me guess, these other guys that complain about wearing condoms, also don’t know the word aftercare?” He asked when she trailed off. 

Avoiding his eyes, she shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man she had just slept with shaking his head in…disgust? 

“The difference between boys and men,” he muttered more to himself than her. Then he moved his gaze to meet hers. “Do you mind if I do it?”

“Clean me up?” Sarah squeaked, cheeks reddening even though he had already seen all of her body. But somehow this felt more intimate. More vulnerable. “Connor, you really don’t have to.” 

“I know, but I want to. If you’ll let me.” his low raspy voice sent a thrill down her spine as he took the damp cloth from her, “Lay back for me baby. Let me take care of you.”

The term of endearment and that he used it to refer to her baffled her so much that she did as he asked. She lay back, curls spread across his pillow, and watched as he cleaned her up. Warmth unfurled in her stomach at his tender movements.

“More than I needed to know.” Justin’s voice broke her out of her thoughts of the past. The slight disgust in his voice made Sarah smirk.

“Well, that’s what you get for asking me a stupid question. ‘Are you being safe with him?’ Of course, I’m being safe!”

“I didn’t want to know and I never doubted you. But it was a voice in my head and Erin doesn’t know who this guy is. I didn’t even know there was a guy and neither did Olive. And I’m guessing my dad doesn’t know anything about this-”

“If he did he’d probably have me tailed just so he could run him through a background check and interrogate him on his intentions with me. Which is why you're not allowed to say anything to him about this.”

They pulled up to a stop sign and Justin turned to look at her. “With your track record in guys, maybe he should.” 

“Look who’s talking. Do we want to go through your list of winners before Olive?” Sarah retorted sarcastically as they took off again. 

“But really, is this guy at least decent to you?” Her pseudo-brother asked and the brunette thought about how Connor would measure up compared to her last three exes. How despite not being her boyfriend, he was the best one out of her exes. Then she told her best friend:

“Compared to Joey, Evan, and Parker, he’s a freaking Prince Charming.”

[boogleboot]

crikey. a year since I started writing Fateheart. Roughly. What a time that was.

and still is, actually. it's not like I've stopped. The third book, second sequel to The Starless Sea, is in the works. I took a break from it the past months because I have been quite unwell, but it is called The Lotus Flowers and it WILL get done it WILL it WILL it WILL.

I also have Fever Pitch to finish, which is an interrim story that was going to go along with the rest of the collection of stories in the extended canon, but is actually rapidly approaching another full-sized book. (I think Fateheart has warped my perspective slightly on what constitutes a full-length story hahah.)

@erinmorgenstern are you aware that Zachary Ezra Rawlins has moved permanently into my brain? He has truly set up his entire life and his gaming desk in here and refuses to get out.

I've spent more close and intentional creative time with these characters - with Zachary, Dorian, Kat, Madame Love Rawlins particularly - than any others ever in my life and by golly I'm having a great time.

Erin pls read Fateheart and then have an extremely detailed conversation with me about Zachary's backstory, I have so many questions and also I want to know what you think of Leander.

Kidding. Erin owes me nothing. Though I owe her so much creative fulfilment at this point I would hardly know where to begin.

I've always wanted to be a writer, and I've known forever that the way to be a writer is to write. Only in the last year have I fully and confidently begun to claim that I am, in fact, a writer. And that is thanks to The Starless Sea. Some of this fanfiction is the best stuff I have ever produced, and I am very, very proud of it.

(Shoutout Death in the Valley, my beloved.)

Currently editing the latest Zachary/Dorian story to go up on Ao3 later today. It's called 'The Man Named Sky' and it is, courtesy of Katrina Hawkins, another dumb contrived time-travel plot (she loves them). I like this one a lot. It was supposed to be short, and I still think it's short, but it also turned out to be around 27k words, which my friends assure me is not, in fact, a short fic.

Ever onward, ever upwards. Book 4 is already in the planning, and then who knows. My mother keeps telling me to apply my attention to original works but until I have thoroughly and entirely worked through all my many, MANY thoughts about Dorian, I simply shall not be able to, I think.

And I'm having too much fun.

Gonna try to work on Fever Pitch (Set 5 years after Fateheart, 6 - or 9, depending on how you count it - years after The Starless Sea) while I'm at home for two weeks. It's an Alice and Wonderland-themed Starless Sea story, so that's going to be fun.

I have several other little gems to bash out for the extended Fateheart canon collection, and Lotus Flowers rolls slowly ever onward in the background like a slow-cooker pot with a dull red light that fills the kitchen with a slowly growing scent of herbs.

I am a writer!!! I have so many things in progress and so many things I am excited to work on!! And literally all of them are from or about The Starless Sea!! Haha!! WHat!!!!

Anyway. Thank you, Zachary, for the matcha latte drink by my side right now. Thank you Erin Morgenstern for writing a very fun book I like very much. Thank you to my discord besties for being so madly supportive and lovely about everything I write. Thank you to the academy for this little golden statue. Thank you to Mhatma Ghandi for peace and love on planet earth. Thank you Jennifer Coolidge for empowering women everywhere what no what let me finish my speech le t me hELP--

[autisticgayngel]

Canonverse Castiel-centric/pining/loving Cas fics

some of these are Dean's POV and a lot are alternating POV, but all of them really delve into Cas's emotions and his love for Dean. All canonverse and all happy endings. Categorised by post-confession, pre-s15 curtain fic and other canon-era. Descending word count within each category. If anyone has any recs for things I should add lmk!

Post-Confession Fics

things happen (they do, they do, and they do) by sobsicles 28k rating E

Everyone has recced this, and for good reason, it's stunning. Cas gets back from the empty and Dean sort of lets him down gently and is very worried about breaking his heart. Despite this Cas is finally able to express to Dean how much he loves him and takes full advantage of this. He's earnest and sweet and so intense about it, but also incredibly hurt about the lack of reciprocation, though he tries to hide it. He does get the love he deserves in the end and it's so good!

closer (isn't close enough) by fleeceframe 18k rating E

Again, Dean's POV, but very much focused on how much Cas loves him. Has the gorgeous Cas line: “When you are hungry, you eat. When you are tired, you rest. When you are dirty, you bathe. But what are you supposed to do with love?”

My unintended by DeanaWinchester, Jeanne_de_Valois 10k rating E

Really good Cas POV, he’s obsessive and insecure but also deeply loving.

my heart a compass by lagaudiere 10k rating T

The empty torments Cas with visions of Dean and of the family he longs to have with Dean. Dean saves him.

I said show me something by ilovehowyouletmefall 7k rating E

Sparked by the debate about whether or not Dean thinks Cas can feel. Cas is hurt by Dean saying he thought he couldn't feel and vulcan mind melds to show him exactly how he feels about him. It's a really interesting exploration of both of their feelings and fears.

Gift by thisisapaige 2k rating G

Very sweet little fic of them trying to work things out once Cas returns from the empty.

Pre-s15 Curtain Fics

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden 95k rating E

Dean tries to retire with his family but finds himself alone as Sam and Jack take a road trip and Cas goes hunting in order to prove he's still useful as a human and to avoid thinking about his feelings for Dean. Really agonising and harrowing at the start as they both feel so rejected and miserable. Cas gets into situations where monsters use his feelings for Dean to attack him. Eventually, they're able to tentatively work out their feelings and settle down together and it's very sweet.

Morning Glory by edgarallanrose 26k rating E

Dean and Cas retire together. Cas becomes a beekeeper and Dean starts to use the honey he makes to bake goods, which they sell at the farmer's market. Cas is very much in love with Dean but it takes Dean a bit longer to work things out.

Other Canon-era

A Winter's Tale by NorthernSparrow 64k rating T

This one hurts a lot, so fair warning for that. Cas falls ill while human and homeless and is hospitalised. Dean finds the journal Cas kept as he struggled to survive in this time. Pre-Destiel but Cas does write a lot about his feelings for Dean. Sam and Dean shower Cas with love and kindess as he recovers. Also a destiel epilogue that is very sweet and fluffy.

In the Shadow of your Wings by Enochian Things (Salr323) 57k rating E

Cas confesses his love to Dean post s11 finale but the timing is terrible and Dean is very repressed about it all and breaks Cas's heart. Cas gets an Italian man of letters boyfriend in an attempt to get over it and Dean is insanely jealous (which Cas is oblivious to) but they all have to work together to try to save Sam from the BMOL. Dean eventually gets his shit together and treats Cas the way Cas has learnt to understand he deserves.

That Black Dog Ache by SaltyWords (agent4hire22) 28k rating E

This is very much Dean's POV but I'm putting it here anyway because it has a really intense love confession from Cas, which I'll include an excerpt of that drives me insane:

'“I listen to your music, and I close my eyes. I try to imagine I’m in the Impala, hunting with you. And, sometimes,” his throat jumped, “I lay on your bed. I think about what it would be like if I got to have a place on it beside you... If you ever let me get close enough.”'

Kelp!I Need Somebody by andimeantittosting (Saylee) 27k rating E

A really sweet fic in which Sam, Dean and Cas go to investigate a case on Jesse and Cesar's ranch. Switching POV with really good mutual pining as they tentatively begin to realise the other feels the same.

Being Dean Winchester by Anonymous 26k rating E

Set early s4, Cas has to possess Dean temporarily. While doing this, he has to work to hide his feelings from Dean. Cas is already obsessed with Dean and in love with him but is embarrassed by it and struggles to keep Dean from seeing all of this, especially when Dean wants to have sex with someone while Cas is possessing him.

Après by imogenbynight 24k rating E

Set after the angels fall in s8. Cas falls to earth in Paris and realises he's in love with Dean. Dean comes to get him and they find love together in Paris.

desiderium, lost by atlasian 20k rating T

Castiel confesses his love for Dean and Dean tells him to move on. Cas tries, fairly unsuccessfully, before Dean gets it together.

No Other Worthy Quest by MajorEnglishEsquire 15k rating E

Cas just loves Dean very much.

'“For fuck's sake,” his skin is heating. Cas can feel it. “Stop saying lovey-dovey shit.”

“I know,” Cas rolls his eyes. “It’s so mortifying for you when I want to tell you I love you. I’m using all my self-restraint, I promise not to embarrass you.”'

The Arrow by jscribbles 12k rating T

Valentine's day and Cas has been hit by a Cupid's arrow and is literally sick with love for Dean.

and all this devotion by dothraki_shieldmaiden 10k rating M

Dean gets hurt on a hunt and Cas takes care of him in a cabin. Very sweet, delightful Cas POV of him being very much in love.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits 10k rating E

Cas struggles to work out why Dean deems some things meaningful and some things worthless, and where he fits into this apparent dichotomy. Really gorgeous and agonising Cas POV that deals with their constant issue of Dean just wanting Cas to stay and Cas wanting Dean to want him to stay but they're both too afraid to express it.

Breathe by turningthepages 9k rating G

Dean and Cas platonically sleep together to help with Dean's sleep. Cas both likes the situation and longs for it to mean more.

First Date by aeli_kindara 9k rating T

Dean asks Cas on a date and they're both trying very hard to make it all work. The sequel is stunning too.

'Dean says, “We should do that. Go on a date.”

Something in Castiel’s chest fuzzes, like static on a TV, and stops.'

weights on my ankles by dothraki_shieldmaiden 9k rating M

After 15x3 The Rupture, Cas goes back to Rexford. While there, he thinks about how Dean hurt him all those years ago and how he hurt him more recently. Partly a 9x6 Heaven Can Wait fanfic-gap fic.

Let it Linger by OmniscientOranges 8k rating M

Cas starts sleeping with men out of jealousy when watching Dean pick up women at bars. The way the fic describes how in love he is and how hopeless he feels about it is both agonising and very sweet.

He Thought He Was Reckless by MajorEnglishEsquire 8k rating M

Cas plays up injuries so that Dean will coddle him. Self-woobification from the Angel of the Lord and it's so sweet!

Something to Protect by Sass_Master 6k rating G

Cas tries to work out how to make Dean feel less unsafe so that he no longer has to jolt awake. Sweet, tentative intimacy and Cas enjoying it so much.

lonely hearts. by outpastthemoat 5k rating G

Deals with Cas accompanying Sam and Dean on hunts and feeling incredibly lonely and longing to be with Dean. He finds solace in romance novels.

Some People Would Call This Romantic by almaasi 5k rating G

Human Cas goes to the beach and finds it rather overwhelming. Taking a romantic walk with Dean along the beach is also overwhelming.

The Tea is Decaf by mnwood 4k rating T

Really sweet! Cas and Eileen talk and gossip about Sam and Dean in the bunker at night over tea.

A Place to Rest by Inessencedivided 3k rating G

Dean and Cas talk through things after the Stuck in the Middle with You love confession. Cas cries some more.

White Noise by domesticadventures 2k rating G

Cas struggles with feelings of worthlessness in the aftermath of Lucifer's possession.

Receipts by surlybobbies 1k rating G

Cas writes little notes about how much he loves Dean on receipts from meals they share together. Dean finds them.

[gukyi]

into the wilderness | pjm

summary: alright, so last summer’s camp was... disastrous. from the murky green showers to the wasps nests, it was all-around a bad time. but none of those things could be quite as catastrophic as the end-of-camp counselor campfire, when you told park jimin that you were in love with him. and if telling him was terrible, then seeing him again this summer, one year after your fruitless confession, just might be the death of you.

{camp counselor!au, unrequited love!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: park jimin x female reader genre: angst, fluff, comedy word count: 27k warnings: unrequited love, camp shenanigans, awkwardness, secondhand embarrassment/hurt, ot7 cameos a/n: hello and welcome to the one thing that guyi has wanted to write for literal years now but never go around to! finally i can cross camp counselor au off my list. anyway, it’s been over a year since i wrote for jimin so i hope that this monster 27k fic can make up for that !!! i swear the ending is happy. i swear. i promise.

Something about last summer sucked. 

Maybe it was the record six wasps’ nests you found around the cabin, leaving you with more bee stings than mosquito bites by the end of camp. Maybe it was that weird murky green color of the water in the showers and the sinks that didn’t go away until three weeks in, when you were already positive you had contracted some sort of pond disease from brushing your teeth. Maybe it was the lack of Namjoon, who had an internship and couldn’t come, therefore removing all sense of order and leaving you and the rest of the counselors in a state of chaos.

Or maybe it was the fact that, on the very last night, at the very last counselor campfire, you told Jimin that you loved him. 

Truth be told, you weren’t sure how badly it would go. But telling him was so much easier than keeping it hidden, than letting it drag on and on, this boulder sitting on your chest for the rest of time. You had spent the whole eight weeks of camp rationalizing it to yourself, so much so that by the time the last counselor campfire rolled around, you were convinced that it wouldn’t be that disastrous. 

There was no part of you that thought Jimin would reciprocate your feelings. No part of you that secretly hoped that maybe he felt the same, and that you could end the summer with more money in your bank account and a boyfriend on your arm. You knew he didn’t. Jimin was sweet, and thoughtful, and gentle, which is exactly why you fell in love with him, but he was like that to everyone. You didn’t think that telling him would suddenly make him fall in love with you.

You told him because people like Jimin deserve to know that somebody loves them. 

You told him because you thought that nothing would change. 

What you didn’t really expect to happen was this:

Your marshmallow is burnt beyond recognition, poking off of the edge of a stick like a sad piece of coal rather than a sweet treat. At this point, it’s even darker than the chocolate sitting on the graham cracker in your lap, waiting to be smushed together into the sugar-fest known as a s’more, so eloquently named because you will apparently always want some more. 

“Uh, hello? Earth to Y/N?”

Taehyung’s hand waves furiously in front of your face as he leans forward to make eye contact with you.

“Huh?” You ask, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. Your mind has been awfully cloudy these days, overcast like the weather around here. It’s a wonder you’re able to make your way through. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, an eyebrow raised. “Your marshmallow looks like what happens when I try to make scrambled eggs.”

“Your scrambled eggs look like that?” Seokjin interrupts, pointing accusingly at your charred marshmallow. You’ve seen Taehyung in the kitchen. It’s not that bad, is it? “Next year you should sign up for some of Yoongi’s cooking classes. The six-year-olds can cook better than you.”

“You’d have to pay me way more than the shit they’re giving us to get me to teach Taehyung how to cook,” grumbles Yoongi. 

“I’m fine,” you promise Taehyung as Yoongi and Seokjin launch into a tirade about raising minimum wage. “I just—” You glance at your marshmallow. You don’t even think the fish monster at the bottom of the pond would eat it. And he apparently eats people whose hearts have turned to stone. Like Seokjin, who swears that it had eaten the tip of his pinky finger. “—like my marshmallows really cooked.”

Taehyung looks skeptical but drops the subject nonetheless, turning back around so he can find a different conversation to barge his way into. You’re willing to put money on him finding some way to annoy Jungkook. 

Insecure about your apparent lack of marshmallow-roasting skills, you pull your stick away from the campfire, blowing on it until you decide that you’re willing to risk burning the tips of your fingers. You pluck the marshmallow from the skewer, hissing to yourself as you quickly plop it onto the graham cracker, squishing the whole thing together. 

The marshmallow is so burnt that it barely gives underneath the press of your fingers, bouncing back up like rubber. You frown at your s’more, which clearly should be renamed to something else because nothing about the thing in your hands makes you want some more. 

Next to you, Jimin laughs at your pitiful attempt at a classic campfire treat. 

“You want mine?” He asks with a smile, holding out a flawless s’more, the kind that they make in movies to perpetuate the illusion of perfection. You look up at him and in the light of the fire he glows, like a spark from the flames had created him right then and there, like he had been born with light in his eyes, a halo surrounding his body. 

You wonder if Jimin knows how beautiful he is. How beautiful he has always been, radiating kindness and joy and laughter. He must know, right? It must be impossible for him to notice how everyone falls in love with him. You certainly aren’t an exception. 

He holds out the s’more in his hands, laughing as he looks at you because there must be something endearing about being a shitty s’more maker, and you think, what’s the worst that can happen?

“I’m in love with you.”

The s’more drops to the ground, hitting the grass with a thud. 

Jimin’s eyes meet yours, and for once, they are unreadable. This tragic sort of confusion, like he can’t believe the words you’re saying to him. Like his mind refuses to accept them as true. 

He opens his mouth, but you answer for him. 

“It’s okay,” you assure quickly, reaching a hand out to rest on his own. The touch makes him look away, like your fingers are the flames of the campfire, burning him where they touch his skin. “I—I know you don’t feel the same.”

It’s not a secret. Not to him, and not to you. Jimin purses his lips because he feels guilty for not loving you back. Because he is so good, so kind, that he feels as though he has wronged you because he doesn’t love you the way you love him. Like it’s his fault. 

“Y/N—” He starts, but he does not finish. 

“You…” you interrupt, looking down at your feet. You can’t look at Jimin because looking at him hurts, and you can’t look anywhere else because Jimin is all you think about. All you ever think about. “You don’t have to say anything.”

He speaks, and it’s as if the words don’t belong to him. Don’t belong to anyone. 

“What are we supposed to do?” He asks. 

You shrug, resigning yourself to this. You knew that he wouldn’t feel the same. You didn’t know how terrible he would feel because of it. “Nothing,” you tell him. “I just thought you should know.

He nods, because he knows, and he nods, because he can’t do anything else. 

The fire crackles beside you, s’mores forgotten on the ground as your friends laugh and cheer, distant sounds that echo in your head like white noise. Jimin is all you can think of and right now you’re thinking about what happens next.

“I’m sorry.”

Maybe telling him wasn’t such a good idea after all. 

“Me too.”

Your busted-up sedan revs angrily as you rally up the mountain, shaking your head in an attempt to rid the memories of the campfire from your mind. Unfortunately, the nasty thing about memories is that the more you try to forget them, the more you seem to remember.

You sigh. Something about last summer sucked. 

Nothing about this summer makes you feel like it’ll suck any less.

The good thing about being thirty minutes late is that you’re still thirty minutes earlier than Taehyung, who does not have a single punctual bone in his body. You can count on one hand the amount of instances where he’s actually been on time, all of which are because you and the other counselors conspire to tell him that events are an hour earlier than they actually are just to make sure he doesn’t stroll in an hour late and improperly dressed. 

The bad thing about being thirty minutes late is that everyone besides Taehyung is already here, waiting for you. 

Your sedan crawls to the clearing at the top of the mountain, fighting against gravity and itself as it chugs up the last few feet, coming to a rough stop in the dirt, sunken in from countless tires tracking across it. 

Through your windshield, you can make out two figures with two clipboards, only one of which has something genuinely useful on it. 

“Y/N!” Hoseok cries out excitedly, splaying his arms out as if to hug the entire front of your car only to reveal the near-blank clipboard in his hand. All that’s on it is a neon green Post-it note with a caricature drawing of who you assume to be Yoongi, if the grouchy expression and chef’s hat are anything to go by. There’s no signature or name, but Hoseok’s art skills are on par with those of the campers you work with and Jungkook has a fun and quirky habit of vandalizing all drawable surfaces with pencil sketches of the counselors, so you take a wild guess as to who the artist is. 

You pop the door of your car open and step out into the sticky weather, warm and muggy despite the clouds above. It’s the same as when you step into your bathroom after your two roommates have showered, using up all the hot water and leaving a layer of fog on the mirrors for you to all play hangman on. Only, this steam never goes away. 

“Hoseok!” You cheer, letting the man wrap you up in a sweltering hug, your hands gently patting the top of his back so as not to come in contact with the dampness soaking through his thin cotton t-shirt. You haven’t seen each other for nearly a year, though, so you give in more than you usually would and relax into his hold. “You look good, I like the hair,” you compliment, two fingers coming up to twirl at his bright red locks, deep and vibrant like the cherries you pick. 

“Dyed it just so I could tell the kids I’m a superhero!” Hoseok grins. He’s already heading over to the back of your car to pop the trunk and pull out your duffel bags so that he can park your car in the garage at the other end of the campsite.

“Then who’s the villain?” You call, tossing him your keys.

“I guess that would be me.”

You whip around to find a platinum-blonde Namjoon standing happily before you, looking at least a little bit resigned as he grins at you. His hair is longer this year, like growing it out would somehow compensate for frying it with layer after layer of bleach. And with his silver-white hair and the fact that he is the only counselor any of the kids are genuinely afraid of disobeying, you suppose he would be the antagonist after all. 

“Namjoon, nice to see you again.” You go in for a hug even though Namjoon clearly had no plans on instigating one himself, because someone as hardworking and patient as Namjoon deserves a little platonic affection every one in a while. What, with everyone else constantly conspiring with the campers to oust him every summer. 

The truth is that all of you know that without Namjoon, this camp would be nothing but chaos in its purest form, with the counselors unable to wrangle the kids and the kids using that knowledge to their fullest advantage. Take last year, where everything seemed to go wrong because Namjoon had his stupid internship with a business firm and spent the entire summer drilling finances into his head instead of losing brain cells watching kids eat sand.  

If you had any dignity left you’d blame your rotten confession to Jimin on Namjoon’s absence as well. 

“Nice to see you, too, Y/N,” Namjoon says when you part, checking your name off of the list on his clipboard. “I feel like it’s been ages since I was here.” You can see red marks all over the page, blank only where the name Taehyung is written. 

Some things never change, you suppose. 

“Well, we definitely missed you last year,” You say with a chuckle, trying not to immediately associate your personal misjudgements with the lack of Namjoon, who you can hopefully keep from ever finding out what happened at last year’s end-of-camp counselor campfire. The problem is that Namjoon picks up on social cues and body language like a sociologist, so your only hope is pretending that the campfire never even happened. “Camp was pretty much a mess without you.” In more ways than one.

“Namjoon!” Someone calls. You and him both jerk around to the source of the sound when you see a figure barreling towards the both of you, face obscured in shadow. 

You almost don’t recognize him, with his pitch black hair and thick voice, like he has somehow become a new person in the nine months you’ve gone without seeing him. But the moment he comes into view, you know, and you can’t even pretend to not know, not with the way your heart freezes in place, mid-beat, like the sight of him has turned you to stone. Not with the way that Namjoon is right beside you, and how you don’t think you can bear explaining to him why you and Jimin aren’t as close as you used to be. Not with the way that Jimin looks as beautiful as he always has and always will be, no matter how many summers pass, this timeless portrait, this piece of art that’s come to life. 

There’s a part of you that’s shocked still at seeing him, like you had almost thought that after last summer at least one of you would bail on this shitty summer job, filled with mosquitoes and mud and wifi that only works in the room that doubles as the gymnasium and the mess hall. It’s the same part of you that wants to go back to pretending that nothing ever happened last summer. 

But Jimin is here, in front of you, eyes wide and out of breath and gorgeous, and pretending that last summer never happened is the same as pretending that you never fell in love with him at all.

“The water in the boys’ cabins sinks is green,” he says with a tense smile, making Namjoon nearly smack his clipboard into his forehead. 

“Ugh, seriously?” He asks, and you can’t tell if you’re thankful or hurt that Jimin’s failed to acknowledge you. “Fine,” he scribbles something down on the clipboard, this handwriting scrawl that only he can read, “I’ll figure out what to do with that later. In the meantime, just don’t drink it.”

“Seokjin’s already made lemonade with it, though—”

“Great,” Namjoon says, exasperated as he takes off towards the main cabin, where Seokjin is sitting on the balcony with his feet up on the railing with a glass of suspiciously murky lemonade in his hand, one that he’s offering up to Yoongi with a devilish grin on his face. 

His disappearance leaves only you and Jimin left standing at the entrance, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet in the hopes that one of you will either leave or spare the other the torture of a conversation. 

“Hey,” Jimin says quietly, trying to meet your eyes. 

You look away, pretending to smack an imaginary mosquito on your arm while an actual one bites your leg. “Hey, yourself.”

“It’s been a while.” The last time we saw each other you told me you loved me. 

“Yeah, it has.” I know.

“How are you doing?” Do you still love me, or was the distance and time enough?

“I’m alright. Same old, same old.” I never stopped. “How are you?” What about you? Did you stop seeing us as just friends?

“Doing well, thanks.” No. You’ll always be just a friend to me. Jimin sighs, looking up at the overcast sky with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts, taking in the scenery before him. He exhales, long and heavy, before turning to you with a soft little smile, the kind of grin that almost makes you feel like forgetting might not be the best thing to do after all. “I just feel like this summer is a fresh start, you know? Like, I feel like there’s something different about being here this year.”

Maybe this summer, you can learn to move on from me, too. Because something’s gotta give. 

“I hope you’re right about that,” you tell him, because being around him hurts and being away from him makes you replay that night over and over, wondering what would have happened if you had just kept your stupid mouth shut. You open your mouth to say something, anything else, anything to break the ice that didn’t used to be there before, cut between the tension that has settled between the two of you, but your tongue is dry and your heart is sore just looking at him. 

Defeated, you walk over to where Hoseok’s left your duffel bags, hiking them onto your shoulders and heading towards the girls’ cabins, ready to end this conversation before it tears you in two. 

Jimin seems to flounder, standing awkwardly for a few moments as he watches you walk towards the cabins, skirting around him a few feet away because brushing by his side seemed too close for comfort. But then he says, “Hey, Y/N?” 

And it makes you stop dead in your tracks, unable to deny him an answer. 

You turn around to look at him, and he offers you a grin. 

“Are we good?”

Your love for me, will it affect our friendship?

You swallow.

It already has. It always has. From the very beginning, loving you was part of our friendship. I don’t know how to be friends with you without it. Even when you didn’t know it, I loved you. In a way, it was easier back then. Telling you was the one thing I shouldn’t have done. 

“Yeah, Jimin,” you tell him. “We’re good.”

The trek to your cabin from the main buildings of the camp is nothing if not familiar. Familiar in the way that the ground curves beneath your feet, leading you up to the top of a small hill where the building sits, looking out over the rest of the clearing. Familiar in how the scent of the woods that surround you fills up your senses, this fresh, airy feeling, like the very oxygen is smothering you. Familiar in how this place reeks of the memories of summers gone by, summers spent beneath the stars and by the campfire. 

Summer memories that make your heart burst with fondness and summer memories that… don’t. 

The fact is that it has always started and ended here. 

When you kick open the door to the cabin, there is only one other occupied bed. It belongs to Hazel, a counselor in her sophomore year in college who joined the crew last year and assumed that the Namjoon-less pandemonium that was camp last summer was just the norm. Hopefully she can take a much-needed break this year now that Namjoon’s back and she’s not the only one fruitlessly trying to cajole the campers into behaving. 

You beeline towards the bunk bed that has been your summer home for the past three years, the one shoved right up against the back right corner, giving you a perfect view of the entire cabin. The downside is that it’s the same corner that spiders seem to prefer as their location of choice for their webs, but better you, a stone-cold college student, than a terrified six-year-old. 

Plopping your duffel bags on top of the mattress, you let out another sigh. You wonder what it is about this summer that is so damn tiring, so exhausting that you can’t help but outwardly exhale every ten seconds, like merely being here is wearing you out, bit by bit. 

You’re looking forward to when the campers arrive tomorrow. Sleeping alone (well, nearly alone) in a cabin feels uncomfortably empty. Plus, you’re hoping that they’ll provide you with some sort of distraction so you don’t have any free time left to spend dwelling on the what-ifs and the should-have-dones. When there’s only a dozen of you, it’s much easier to run into him. 

The moment you collapse on your bed, a messy brown head of hair comes bounding out from the shared bathrooms in the center of the cabin. 

“Y/N!” Hazel cries out, launching herself across the room and into your arms for the tightest hug you’ve had in a long while. 

“Hey, Haze,” you greet in return, offering her a squeeze back. You didn’t often mix in your camp activities, with Hazel in charge of the nature walks and animal conservation activities while you hide in your air-conditioned arts and crafts room, but living together brought upon you a closeness you otherwise don’t share with anyone else. Plus, Hazel keeps a family-sized pack of Oreos and a gigantic jar of smooth peanut butter by her bunk at all times for emergencies. 

“I feel like it’s been so long!” She laments when she finally releases you, looking positively thrilled to be here right now. 

Not long enough, you think to yourself, though you don’t suppose any more time apart from Jimin would make seeing him again any easier. “Yeah, but the year goes by so quickly,” you agree half-heartedly. Too quickly. 

“I’m so excited for this year.” Hazel grins, clapping her hands together. “I have so much planned for all the nature walks and everything. I spent all of last week reading up on edible plants and berries found in this part of the country. I’m gonna teach all of the kids what they can eat in case they get stranded in the forest!”

“Fun,” you say with a hesitant nod. It’s not that you don’t trust Hazel to have done her research, it’s more that, knowing the campers and knowing the counselors, someone’s going to try and get lost in the woods around the camp, eating everything they can. Not to mention the fact that Hazel’s so innocent she’d probably reveal to someone like Seokjin or Jungkook which plants were poisonous without even realizing it. 

Camp last year was a mess, but at least nobody died. 

“Hey, aren’t you excited, too?” She asks, a hand on your shoulder as she notices your reluctance. “Apparently Namjoon’s a great leader so this year isn’t going to be as bad as last year.”

“Last year wasn’t bad just because Namjoon wasn’t here,” you comment vaguely. Hazel doesn’t need to know about all of the drama that goes down between the counselors. Hopefully she can get out of here without being dragged into something by one of you. 

“Well, this year is supposed to be better!” She cheers you on, determined to get you to feel as enthusiastic as she is. “No matter what did or did not happen last summer. Plus, you know that if anything bad happens I always have my secret stash, counselors only.” She winks. 

“Thanks, Haze,” you say, sighing again like it’s your job to be worn out by life. “I think I just need a bit of time to get back into the swing of things.”

“That’s the spirit!” She rallies. “I’m gonna head back to the main camp and see if there’s anything good to drink. I’m thirsty.”

“Stick to soda,” you advise, eyes wide at the thought of her downing anything that Seokjin’s had a sneaky hand in making. 

She doesn’t seem to notice your worry, already bounding towards the door, light on her feet. “I was feeling a Fanta anyway. See you at the camp counselor meeting if I don’t see you around beforehand!” She pulls open the heavy wooden door, half outside when she stops to turn back at you, wagging a finger in the air. “Remember, Y/N, leaves of three, let them be!” 

The door slams shut behind her, creating a cloud of dust in its wake. You watch helplessly as the particles dissipate into the air, as the silence that was once so comforting begins to terrorize you once more. 

You collapse back onto your bunk. If only last summer’s murky green water had poisoned you. Then maybe you’d finally have a good enough excuse for your utter lapse in judgement, and you wouldn’t be sighing so much.

There were no camp counselor meetings last year. There were only haphazard caucuses, irregular get-togethers where no one knew quite what was going on and there were no real announcements to be said, no real orders to be given. You had almost forgotten what it was like to have someone with genuine leadership skills working here. 

The problem last year was not getting everyone into the same room for thirty minutes. It was keeping everyone focused in that same room for thirty minutes, which was essentially impossible because, at your age, submitting to someone of authority is the very last thing you want to do. Especially when the consequences pretty much only amount to having to drink Seokjin’s murky green lemonade.

But like with everything else, Namjoon has, somehow, made the impossible possible. 

“Guys, guys, can we stop drawing on the board, please? I need that,” Namjoon begs as he walks into the room to find Jungkook and Taehyung with chalk in their hands and a chalkboard at their disposal. What they’ve accomplished so far is an expert drawing of Spongebob and Patrick with their faces missing, waiting to be filled in by one of the unlucky people in this room. 

“Okay, so who’s Patrick?” Taehyung asks the audience. 

“Hoseok!” shouts Seokjin.

“You!” shouts Hoseok. 

“Seokjin!” shouts Hazel, too, just because she likes being involved in things. 

Jungkook lets out a cackle at that. “Are you kidding?” He asks. “If anything…” He does a quick sketch on the board, hand flying across it so quickly you’re actually a little bit impressed, “Seokjin would be Plankton.” 

He steps away from the board to reveal a scarily-realistic drawing of Seokjin’s angry face on Plankton’s tiny, antennaed body, making everyone—even Namjoon, who usually tries to keep the roasting between counselors to a minimum—laugh. 

Seokjin scowls, and normally you would feel bad for him always being the butt of Jungkook’s endless jokes, but you can see a half-empty glass of green lemonade by Jungkook’s side, and you decide that he can hold his own just fine. 

“I think you guys would be Spongebob and Patrick,” Jimin pipes up from the back. You freeze, turning your head slightly just to see him sitting on the table pushed up against the wall. You hadn’t even noticed him. Or maybe you had, and your brain just decided to pretend that you hadn’t. 

Nevertheless, hearing his voice doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“Jimin’s right,” Jungkook agrees, already beginning to fill in the blank space where Spongebob’s face would normally go with a caricature of his own. “I’d be Spongebob because I have a wider face than you, Tae.”

Taehyung doesn’t object, instead moving his hand to an empty spot on the board. “Yeah. Oh, and Namjoon’s Mr. Krabs, obviously,” Taehyung says, adding his own drawing of Mr. Krabs with Namjoon’s camp get-up on—cargo shorts, a short-sleeved flannel shirt, a baseball cap, and high-tops.

“I would not be—hey, give me that!” Namjoon shouts, indignant, before ripping the chalk from Jungkook’s hands as he cackles wickedly, clearly pleased with himself. Namjoon shoos the both of them away from the board before wiping it with the eraser, which has very obviously not been cleaned since last year, leaving a trail of pale yellow dust in its wake wherever Namjoon drags it across the chalkboard. “Chalkboard for official matters only.” He glares at Jungkook and Taehyung, who high-five each other. 

The chatter soon subsides as Namjoon writes down the meeting to-do list on the board in his same old scratchy handwriting. Namjoon’s one of those people that writes exclusively in capital letters, simply enlarging any letters that actually need to be capitalized. You’re almost one-hundred percent positive it’s to establish written dominance over the rest of the counselors. 

“Okay, first order of business,” Namjoon begins after coughing to get everyone’s attention. “It’s come to my attention that the entire cabin water system is green.”

“Hasn’t it always been—?” Hazel asks, innocent eyes wide in confusion. 

“I called the utilities people and they’re coming tomorrow to fix it, so in the meantime, do not drink the water. Showering and using the bathroom is fine. I would use water bottles for brushing your teeth, though,” Namjoon says, crossing off something on his clipboard as the rest of the counselors murmur in approval. 

“See, this is what happens when Namjoon’s here,” deadpans Yoongi, motioning up to him where he stands at the front of the room. “Shit gets done.”

“Okay, secondly, no swearing in front of the kids,” Namjoon says, adding that onto the board as a final reminder. “The fact that I have to tell you guys this multiple times every year is ridiculous.”

“Fuck you, I can do what I want!” Taehyung shouts, earning a chorus of fuck yeah’s. 

“You guys do know that I have the power to fire you, right?” Namjoon says pointedly, making Taehyung shut his trap. “Okay, moving on. Everyone’s been assigned to the same things that they were assigned to do last year, and if you weren’t here last year, then the year before that.” Namjoon receives some cheers and some groans in response to this, the former mostly from people who work indoors, and the latter mostly from people who don’t. 

“Seriously?” Seokjin whines. “I don’t think Yoongi has stepped foot out of the kitchens in literal years.”

“And I would like to keep it that way, thank you very much!” Yoongi counters. 

“Oh, shut up, at least you get to spend some time indoors teaching all of the kids how to play Hot Cross Buns on their guitars,” Taehyung counters. “I got more mosquito bites than freckles last summer.”

“My students have long advanced from Hot Cross Buns,” Seokjin says proudly and a little bit devilishly. “We’re working on something more technical now.”

“Like what?” Jungkook challenges.

“Okay, continuing…” Namjoon says loudly, eyeing Seokjin suspiciously. “If you’re new, you should have already received notification as to what activities you’re in charge of, but if you’re not sure, come and talk to me.”

“Oh, so Jimin’s still on first aid, then?” Taehyung asks, wiggling his eyebrows. “What do you think Y/N’s gonna do to get herself sent down to his tent? Glue her fingers together? Burn herself with a glue gun?”

“Shut up,” You mumble tensely, embarrassed that somehow you and Jimin’s relationship has turned into a counselor affair. 

Last summer, you had accidentally given yourself a palm full of splinters from the birdhouses that you had the campers paint to bring home with them, and the first aid tent is the only place that has bandages. Jimin was there, as he always is, and the two of you spent the evening plucking out all of the pieces of wood from your hand and patching it up with Band-aids that had Spiderman and Moana on them. Contrary to apparently popular belief, it was not on purpose, even though the hour of hand-holding was rather nice. 

“Or Jimin can just find some excuse to visit Y/N in the arts and crafts room,” Seokjin tacks on unhelpfully. “You know, last summer I don’t think I saw them eat lunch in the counselor room at all. They were always finding secret places in the woods.”

“Maybe we were just busy during lunch?” Jimin suggests, clearly equally uncomfortable. 

“Busy fucking, probably,” Taehyung mutters. 

“It’s none of your business,” you snap, because the last thing you want to be talking about right now is how wonderful your relationship with Jimin used to be, when all that’s left this summer are the burned remnants of it, the ashes of something that could have been. You don’t need a reminder of why you thought that you and Jimin would be alright, of why you thought that telling him wouldn’t be that bad. It was terrible, and now all you can do is pick up the pieces, patch together a friendship whose thread has come loose. 

“Alright, let’s keep going,” Namjoon says, picking up the weirdly tense atmosphere and doing his best to bring the attention back to him and the meeting at hand. “You guys should know that this year, Hoseok is thinking of adding in a counselor dance to the end-of-camp show…”

You look over at Jimin, who immediately turns away when he spots your gaze, making to pick at the rips in his jeans, doing anything and everything he can to avoid eye contact with you, and your shoulders sink. 

Jimin had asked you, “Are we good?”

And you had responded, “Yeah, Jimin, we are.”

And the two of you must have both known that was a lie. 

You turn back to face the front, focusing on how Hazel is rubbing your forearm and not asking questions, and you try to feel a little bit better. 

After the meeting, you and Hazel decide to spend the night holed up in your cabin eating from her Oreo stash instead of eating dinner with everyone else, half because it’s only the first day and already being around all of the other counselors is tiring, and half because you don’t think you can handle seeing Jimin any more today, but not before Namjoon stops you on the way out of the door. 

“Y/N,” he says, making you pause in your tracks. “Can we talk?”

“What about?” You ask, hoping to God that it’s not about everyone thinking you purposely injure yourself just so you can see Jimin at the first aid tent. 

“Just quickly, you and me,” Namjoon says casually, pulling you to the corner of the room, away from any windows so no one can see you two talking. “Did today’s meeting make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you lie like a liar. “What are you talking about?”

Namjoon’s too observant for his own good, you decide, when he frowns at you, clearly not buying whatever it is you’re trying to sell him. “You don’t have to tell me everything,” he says quietly. “But I know that something happened between you and Jimin.”

You open your mouth to object and tell him that you and Jimin are fine, but Namjoon raises his eyebrows at you, like he’s challenging you to tell him another lie. 

“Well…” you begin, resigning yourself to the truth. “Yeah. Last summer.”

Namjoon purses his lips, nodding in understanding. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“You’re not my mom, Namjoon,” you say with a smile, even though maybe telling someone about it might not be a half-bad idea after all. Plus, Namjoon’s your friend and the only one around here who’s any good at keeping secrets, so getting the words off of your chest could be good.

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to,” he reminds you, because he’s wonderful like that. 

“No, it’s alright…” you sigh. “I guess someone else has to know.” You close your eyes, willing the words to come up from your throat, willing them to not hurt you as they leave your lips. “Last summer at the campfire I told Jimin that I loved him.”

Namjoon doesn’t say a word. 

“And he doesn’t love me back, which is not the problem because he shouldn’t change how he feels about me just to make me feel better. It’s not his fault, and I’m not angry at him or anything. I knew that he didn’t love me back when I told him,” the words come up like bile, slowly and carefully before spilling out in front of you. “But I was an idiot, and I thought telling him would make me feel better, or something. And it didn’t, because now Jimin and I don’t know how to act around each other anymore, and everything sucks.”

Namjoon offers you a careful, hesitant smile. 

“So yeah. That’s what happened.”

“Sounds like you and Jimin should talk about it,” Namjoon suggests, and maybe he’s smart, and a good leader, and attends a prestigious college along the coast, and studies business and sociology, but that is the worst idea he has ever had. 

“No,” you immediately say, shaking your head. “It’s no big deal. Jimin and I are still friends.”

“Are you, though?” Namjoon asks. 

You sigh, reaching up to rub at your forehead. “Yeah, we are,” you insist, perhaps more to yourself than to Namjoon. He looks skeptical, but doesn’t ask any questions. “It doesn’t even matter. I made a mistake and now I��m gonna deal with the consequences.”

“I can try to get the rest of the boys to stop teasing you and Jimin. I know it must be weird for you both right now,” Namjoon offers, always wanting to help. You scoff. Weird would be the biggest understatement of the century. 

“Jimin and I can handle it,” you say, not wanting to disrupt the rest of the counselor dynamic just because you and Jimin are dealing with things right now. Besides, the teasing has always been in good fun, and you know the boys well enough to know that they aren’t doing it out of malicious intent. “But I appreciate your concern.”

“Just doing my job,” Namjoon says proudly. You stand there in silence for a few more seconds until he coughs awkwardly to fill up the space. “You can go now, by the way, Y/N. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright.”

“I’m fine,” you promise, silently hoping that one day, when you talk to Namjoon, you won’t have to lie to him anymore. “Thanks for checking in.”

“I’ll always be here for you,” he says in that comforting way, that warm way that wraps around you like a mug of hot cocoa on a cold winter night. 

You crack open the door to find Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook tossing around a frisbee on the open lawn as Seokjin and Yoongi watch from a picnic bench, soda cans sitting next to them. Someone must have mentioned the green lemonade. Jungkook purposely tosses the frisbee too high for Jimin to reach, making him jump wildly in a fruitless attempt to grab it. He falls backwards onto the soft grass, laughing alongside Taehyung and Jungkook as Taehyung pulls him back up to his feet. 

You smile to yourself, the longing and the pain and the love settling deep within your heart, finding a home amongst the wishes and the dreams. Seeing him there, the widest smile on his face as he tosses around a frisbee with some of his best friends, letting the rays from the setting sun fill him up with joy, it reminds you why you fell in love with him. It reminds you why you’re still in love with him.

Something seizes up at your heart, clenching it between its fingers. That used to be you, the thing whispers. You used to make him laugh like that. 

You did. From the moment you met him, you let his laughter fill your senses, burned the sound of it into your brain. You used to be so close. You used to think that maybe, just maybe, Jimin might love you back. 

You should have never told him, it murmurs, grip growing tighter. Look at where it got you.

If I could turn back time and redo that night, I would, you fight back. 

But you can’t.

The wicked thing releases your heart, lets it drop to the floor. You don’t pick it up. 

Every year, you and the other counselors keep a scorecard on the chalkboard in the meeting room to see how quickly someone gets sent to the first aid tent, whether it be from stumbling over a twig or contracting poison ivy or drinking the green water. Last year, it took two hours and thirteen minutes. 

This summer, it happens barely an hour after all of the campers have arrived. 

You make a mental note to write down the time on the scorecard as you run over to help the poor boy off of the ground after slamming into a spruce tree while playing an early game of tag with his friends. The side of his cheek is imprinted with the texture of the tree bark, and he has some scrapes on his hands and knees from the fall. 

“Whoa, hey, you alright?” You ask, leaning down to help him up. “You gotta watch where you’re looking, okay? Don’t want you to get hurt.” 

The beauty about young children is that very little actually causes them great pain. If it weren’t for all of the overprotective counselors, the kids would probably run themselves into the cabin walls and trees for the entire duration of camp.

“I’m not hurt,” the young boy says, standing up proudly. “I’m fine. My mom says I have thick skin.”

“What’s your name?”

“Eli,” the boy tells you matter-of-factly. “That’s my cabin.” He points to the one to the west of the camp that Taehyung and Jungkook are in charge of. Why Namjoon continuously assigns them to the same cabin year after year is beyond you. Once, they convinced everybody in their cabin that Seokjin and Yoongi’s cabin was haunted, and the only solution was to out-scare the ghosts by yelling and screaming right outside. 

“Is this your first year at camp?”

“Yup,” Eli says, rocking back and forth on his feet. He is not at all fazed by the blood and broken skin on his hands and knees, nor the pieces of wood and bark sticking out of the side of his face. 

“Alright, Eli, even though you have thick skin, I have to take you to the first aid tent. Really quickly, okay? Just to make sure you aren’t gonna get an infection. Then you can go and tell all of your friends how thick your skin,” you say, already beginning to usher Eli towards the first aid tent.  

“I think I have the thickest skin out of everyone here,” Eli says, as if goading you on. 

“You know what? I have to agree with you,” you say. “I get hurt really easily. My mom always says that I need to be extra careful here.”

“I’m sick of listening to my mom,” Eli pouts, stomping on the ground as you lead him towards the first-aid tent. 

“Me too,” you agree. No point in telling him that he needs to yield to his parents when he probably won’t even remember this conversation by the time he wakes up tomorrow. Besides, it’s never too early to begin teaching kids about rebelling against authority figures. “But you won’t have to listen to everything I say, okay? We’re just gonna be really good friends.”

“Like with my babysitter,” Eli says. 

“Exactly,” you say, stopping right outside of the first-aid tent. You’re not even positive that anyone’s inside, especially since it’s barely been an hour since camp officially started. Hopefully, Jimin’s somewhere else so you can just patch Eli up yourself. 

The first aid tent is not so much a tent as it is a shed with a fabric entrance, two curtains attached to a rod above the entryway to provide some semblance of privacy since nobody in the camp is handy enough to actually install a working door. But calling it the first aid tent is better than calling it the first aid shack, which, in the wise words of Yoongi, makes it sound like “a hospital where people go to die.”

When you push open the curtain, the first thing you notice is Jungkook and Seokjin in the far left corner, each with ice packs and suspiciously identical markings on them. They’re both making desperate attempts to patch each other up, fighting with the gauze and bandages that are laid out on the table beside them, as if in a competition to see who can better take care of the other. 

Besides that, Jimin is lounging along the wall, leaning back against it as he gazes into nothing, deeply lost in thought. His eyes trace the lines of the shed, foot tapping to an imaginary beat, brows furrowed. You wonder what the hell it is that Jimin could possibly be thinking about so intently, what it is that is making him not even pay attention to the two overgrown children in the corner of his tent, attacking each other with first-aid materials. 

Watching him, you almost don’t want to disturb him. Almost want to grab one of the kits on the shelf by the doorway and pull Eli outside, partly because you don’t think Jimin absolutely needs to be present for you to clean Eli’s wounds and give him some Spiderman Band-aids, and partly because you don’t think you can bear having to say hello to him. 

Eventually, and only because Eli would start thinking it was weird you weren’t talking to each other (and not because a part of you just wants to hear his voice again), you take another step forward, coughing. 

“Wha— oh, hi,” Jimin says, the sound of your arrival breaking him out of his trance. He rubs at the nape of his neck, clearly trying to brush off any awkwardness. “How can I help you guys?” His voice is unrecognizable. 

“Eli here crashed into a tree while playing tag,” you say tensely, doing your best to look around the room, anywhere else, literally anywhere else, just so you don’t have to look at him. “I just brought him here to make sure he’s alright.”

“I’m fine,” Eli insists. 

“Well, Eli, we just have to double check that,” Jimin says comfortingly, reaching down to bring Eli over to one of the benches. He sits him down and kneels so that he can be at eye-level with him, and says, “Sometimes our bodies say that they’re alright even when they really aren’t.” Out of the corner of his eye, Jimin meets your gaze, looking at you like there’s nothing left that you can do, looking at you like there is so much that he wants to say but no way to tell you. 

You open your mouth, willing for the words to come out, but your throat is dry and your heart is pounding in your ears, a painful thud with every breath that you take. He must have known that what you said was a lie. He must have known what you were going to say when he asked, but he asked anyway, not to get the truth but to see where your relationship stands. 

As it seems, your relationship doesn’t seem to be standing at all. 

It lies in front of you, shattered into a million pieces like a broken mirror, cursed but still doing its job, still showing you this fragmented reflection of yourself. Mixed together like this, you can’t see where your friendship ends and your love began. Mixed together like this, it is impossible to repair. 

“Y/N—” Jimin begins. 

“I should go,” you say at the same time, making the two of you stop in your tracks once again. “Thanks for, uh, patching Eli up. Just make sure he gets to the mess hall in time for dinner.”

“I will,” Jimin says with a nod. There is so much that he wants to say but you don’t think you can bear listening to another word come out of his mouth, to another apology for not loving you back when it wasn’t even his fault to begin with. 

You ruined your friendship but Jimin seems to think that he is the one to blame. 

“I’ll see you at dinner?” Jimin asks. 

You look back at him, wanting so desperately to say yes, to pretend that everything is back to normal, to act like this is the beginning of last summer instead of this one, where you loved him and he didn’t know and everything was alright. But you can’t, because it’s not last summer. It’s this one, and you still love him but he knows now. He fucking knows and just thinking about it makes your heart shake in its cage, holding itself together but unable to stop itself from cracking from within.

Jimin must have known you wouldn’t have agreed. Why did he ask?

“Wait, Y/N, hold up!” 

You’re already halfway out of the makeshift door when you turn around to see Jungkook barrelling after you, leaving Seokjin in the dust as he joins you outside, pulling you away from the entrance instinctively. No one has ever been particularly good at keeping secrets here. 

“Can I help you, Jungkook?” You ask, blinking at him, trying to act as normal as possible. 

“Are you alright?” He leans in close, looking into your eyes, concern washed over his features. 

“Everybody seems to be asking me this,” you say, acting like you don’t know why. “I’m fine.”

Jungkook, for all of his wide-eyed innocence, for the way that he views the world as perfectly imperfect, doesn’t buy it. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” he says. “I don’t know what went down between you and Jimin.”

“Nothing happened,” you say, forcing a laugh just so you don’t sound miserable. 

“Whatever it is, I just want you to know that it doesn’t always have to be like this,” he says, reaching out to take your hand in his own, his calloused thumb rubbing soothingly against your skin. “But you should be honest with your feelings, don’t you think?”

“You and Namjoon both think that I don’t have a handle on this, when I do.” You don’t. And being honest with your feelings is what got you into this mess in the first place. 

“Come on, Y/N, you don’t think we haven’t noticed, have you?” He asks, soft and sad and desperate to get through to you. 

“It’s no big deal,” you insist. “Jimin and I are alright. We’ve always been alright.”

“If you say so…” says Jungkook, no less skeptical than he was when he initiated this conversation. 

“Are we done here?” You ask, already pulling your hand from his grasp so you can go back to your cabin and pretend that the rest of the world doesn’t exist. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, resigned as he lets you go. “But you know I’ll always be here for you, right?”

“I know, Jungkook,” you promise, because he always has and he always will be. “Thanks for looking out for me.” You begin to scurry away from the first aid tent, praying that Jimin didn’t hear you and Jungkook and wishing that everything was the way that it used to be.

“Be honest!” Jungkook shouts when you’re a hundred feet away, rushing back towards your cabin. 

Jungkook wants you to be honest?

Telling Jimin that you love him ruined your life. It ruined camp, it ruined your friendship, and it ruined your future. Seeing him now makes your heart ache and your brain dizzy. Every night you replay that conversation in your head, over and over, wondering if there was something that you could have done differently, something that you could have changed so you wouldn’t have ended up like this. Jimin wants to be friends again but you don’t know how to do that without him feeling guilty for not loving you back. 

You want to be honest?

Jimin makes you feel like there is a fire beneath your skin that you can’t extinguish, the flames creeping towards your heart. 

The only solution, it seems, is to smother them. 

The worst part about being in love with Jimin is that he’s impossible to avoid. 

You peer into the mess hall to see if lunch that day is any good and you see him laughing at a table surrounded by elementary schoolers munching on hot dogs and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. You go hunting in the storage shed for some extra packs of popsicle sticks and find him cleaning out the old flower pots to use in the greenhouse. You lead your group of campers from the arts room to the lake and see him and Taehyung setting up the net for some friendly water polo, laughing as they try to tie each other up in the rope. 

It feels like you’re watching a movie unfold in real time, one where he is the star and you are nothing but a background character, the desperate loser who confessed to him in the beginning of the film just to develop his character arc, make him seem personable and relatable, then forgotten about until the end when you spot each other on the street and nod silently to each other, as if to say you’ve both inexplicably reached a peace between the two of you. 

Is that what the future holds for you? A wordless camp, an empty conversation? Will you simply go the rest of the summer without speaking, then nod to each other right before you leave? Will this be the last time you ever see each other?

The worst part about being in love with Jimin is knowing that just because you want things to be different doesn’t mean they will be. Just because you want Jimin to love you back doesn’t mean he will. Just because you want everything to go back to normal doesn’t mean they will. 

As it turns out, love confessions don’t always end in fireworks.

Park Jimin is impossible to avoid not only because he’s everywhere but also because he is everybody’s best friend, the campers’ favorite counselor and the counselors’ favorite companion. He is kind and thoughtful and electric. He is magnetic. He makes others laugh without even trying, he names the plants in the greenhouse after the people he loves, he stays behind after activities to clean up when no one else will. 

Falling in love with Jimin wasn’t you picking out your favorite traits of his, wasn’t you seeing him do one selfless thing and deciding that he could do no wrong. It was submerging yourself in the lake, little by little before you dive in headfirst. It was catching glimpses of his goodness until you were consumed by it. It was knowing that you prefer yourself when you’re around him.

Falling in love with Jimin was like the heat in summer—endless. 

If only falling out of love with him would be just as easy. 

The weather has been unusually nice today. There isn’t a cloud in the sky as the sun beats down on you, rays peeking through the tall branches and leaves of the spruce and oak trees that surround you, casting hazy shadows on the grass beneath your feet. It isn’t too muggy, isn’t too sticky and sweaty, this perfect medium between warm and hot, between dry and humid. It’s the sort of day that you romanticize every day of summer being, only to realize that summer actually consists of sweating through three different t-shirts and needing to eat your ice cream in ten seconds before it melts into a puddle on the concrete. 

Nonetheless, camp policy has always been that when it’s a beautiful day, the campers are going to spend every hour they’re awake outside, going on nature walks and playing capture the flag and eating watermelon on the splinter-y picnic benches. It’s nice, because it gives you a break from having to tell the kids not to touch the tips of the glue guns, but it also stinks, because it forces you to leave your sweet, air-conditioned paradise in favor of a mosquito-infested summer hell. 

Luckily, the kids have been washing off the summer heat in the cool water of the lake with the counselors that actually prefer being outside, playing volleyball in the shallows or canoeing out where it’s deeper. Sometimes, you wonder why Namjoon will let so few counselors supervise so many campers, and sometimes, you decide that it’s better them than you. 

You take a seat on the picnic bench by Yoongi, who is drinking notably clearer lemonade than in days past, so you assume that Namjoon got the water problem fixed like he promised. The two of you have never been outdoorsy people. Why you’ve been working at a summer camp for the last three years escapes you both. You and him lean back against the edge of the built-in table. From here, you have a perfect view of the lake, clear and blue and filled to the brim with rambunctious children, keeping at least somewhat of a watch over them so that Namjoon can’t shout at either of you for slacking off. 

“You know that Seokjin gave you murky water lemonade earlier, right?” You ask, just to make conversation. 

“I know,” Yoongi says, wholly unfazed. He takes another sip and sighs, feeling refreshed. Without batting an eyelash, he deadpans, “You know that you and Jimin aren’t going to get any better if you don’t talk to each other, right?”

“What are you talking about?” You scoff, playing dumb. 

“Just because all of those other idiots didn’t hear what went down between you and Jimin last summer doesn’t mean I didn’t,” Yoongi mutters monotonously. 

You jerk up, stick straight at his words, eyes wide as you glare at him. He heard you?

Yoongi laughs at your reaction, reclining back impossibly farther. “Relax, I haven’t told anyone. You know it’s none of my business.”

“Well,” you sputter out, “if it’s none of your business then why are you talking to me about it?”

Yoongi frowns. “Because you’re my friend, Y/N. And I hate seeing you like this,” he says, that soft lilt to his voice peeking through the rigid words spilling from his lips. “I feel like I don’t even know who you are anymore. A lot of the other counselors do.”

You purse your lips together, guilty. 

“Especially Jimin.”

“I just need time,” you say, trying to be honest for once in your life. Loving Jimin was never going to go away without a fight. 

“You need to talk to each other,” corrects Yoongi. 

“Talking is what got us into this mess,” you huff out, dejected. Yoongi heard it himself—your confession sent you and Jimin’s relationship down the garbage chute. 

“And talking is what’s going to get you out of it,” Yoongi tells you pointedly, truthfully, in that horrible way where you know that he’s right but refuse to accept it. “Promise me you’ll try?” He reaches out to place a hand atop yours, looking into your eyes with hopeful promise. “We want you back.”

“I’ll try,” you sigh out, because it’s never been worth fighting with Yoongi. Not when he cares so deeply. 

“Try what?”

You and Yoongi whip your heads around to find Jimin standing on the opposite side of the picnic bench, helping himself to a piece of sliced watermelon. 

“Try enjoying the outdoors more,” Yoongi covers for you instantly, making you breathe out a little sigh of relief. “We both hate when Namjoon makes it an outside day.”

“It’s not that bad,” Jimin says with a smile. The only reason Jimin doesn’t mind it is because he gets the best of both worlds—half the day spent inside the first-aid tent, the other spent inside the greenhouse by the woods. “There’s beauty in everything.”

Yoongi scrunches up his nose. “Like that?”

In the distance, you spot three things: Jungkook and Taehyung, laughing evilly as they run down along the rocky beach. The clothes clutched in their hands, crumpled up in their grasps while they hoot and holler. And Seokjin, hair sopping wet and half-naked, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and ugly lime green water shoes on, chasing after them. 

“I’m out,” Yoongi says without missing a beat, grabbing his lemonade and dashing off to safety. Yoongi’s exit leaves you and Jimin standing there, stranded, frozen in place, as Jungkook and Taehyung rush by you, each grabbing a piece of watermelon on their way. Something falls from Jungkook’s hold as they pass you, and Jimin reaches down to pick it up. It’s one of Seokjin’s socks. 

“Give that back, Park Jimin!” Seokjin’s banshee screech rings in your ears. 

“Run,” Jimin says, and you don’t get another say in the matter before Jimin is grabbing your wrist and pulling you along with him, Seokjin’s angry caws echoing throughout the clearing. 

Even though Jimin didn’t even actually steal his clothes from the locker room by the lake, Seokjin has determined that anyone who runs from him is automatically guilty, thus lumping both you and him into a wild goose chase alongside Jungkook and Taehyung, who are almost always the guilty parties when it comes to practical jokes like this. For a few moments, it’s the four of you running across the open field with Seokjin hot on all of your heels, desperate to catch up to at least one of you despite being severely out-matched, both in athletic ability and footwear, and then suddenly Jimin is pulling you behind the shed as Jungkook and Taehyung make a sharp right, headed in the opposite direction. 

Crouched behind the shed, you and Jimin stop for a minute to catch your breath, chests heaving after doing more exercise in the last thirty seconds than you have in the last week alone. You’re pressed up against the back siding, and only after your heart rates finally slow down do you become faintly aware of Jimin’s hand still gripping your wrist, like he’s simply forgotten to let go. 

“You think we lost them?” He asks with a wicked grin, and it’s impossible to avoid his gaze when he’s so close like this, when there’s barely a foot of space between your bodies, when his fingertips still press against your skin. 

“I think so,” you heave out in response. 

“Better stay here for a bit longer just in case,” Jimin says, and it’s the flirty sort of thing that he would say if it were last year, the flirty sort of thing that he would say if you two were friends like you used to be, but you aren’t anymore, and now it feels like Jimin is trying too hard and you aren��t trying hard enough. 

“I… I mean,” you say, pulling your wrist out of his grasp, rubbing at where your skin sizzles from his touch. “We’re probably fine.”

“Are we?” He asks, and this is exactly why you shouldn’t try to talk to him, exactly why talking won’t erase the tension that has settled between you two, repair the cracks in what you are. You’re not fine, because everything changed when you told Jimin that you loved him, and you’ve never been good at adjusting. You’re not fine, because for the first time in your years-long relationship, loving him is getting in the way. 

“I hope we are,” you admit, more to yourself than anyone else. Oh, how you so desperately wish that things were back to normal. Oh, how it would be so easy if only things were just a little bit different. 

“Me too,” Jimin says, and he smiles and, oh, how it makes you feel real and true and whole. He stands back up and reaches an arm out to help you do the same. For once, it doesn’t feel like a Band-aid on top of a stab wound. It feels like a lifeline. 

You let Jimin help you back to your feet, and for some reason your heart feels just a little bit lighter. 

“You think we’re alright?” Jimin asks. 

“Yeah,” You respond with a nod. “I think we will be.”

One thing that Namjoon is big on is interdisciplinary recreation. This is half due to the fact that he attends a private liberal arts school on the east coast and half due to the fact that he doesn’t always trust some of the counselors when it comes to chaperoning a whole group of kids on their own. You aren’t going to name names, but they’re the same people that steal clothes for fun. 

He’s got a list up on one of those massive sheets of lined paper filled with suggestions for all sorts of things that combine two or more of the basic activities the camp offers, ranging from making handmade bird seed treats in the kitchen to put out on nature walks to dodgeball in canoes. Some of Namjoon’s ideas are a lot more feasible than others. 

Namjoon’s never been a pushy person. He’s repeatedly said that he purposely avoids telling people what to do within their activity sectors because he doesn’t want the counselors to think that he’s stepping all over them or doesn’t trust them to come up with their own entertainment. The list in the counselor meeting room is titled: ACTIVITY SUGGESTIONS, bolded and circled, just so everyone knows that he isn’t forcing you to do anything (if you’re being honest, the emphasis on suggestions somewhat works against his whole niche). But sometimes, especially for someone whose greatest fear is stripping away others’ creative freedom, he can be rather insistent. 

Take, for example, the two stacks of plain flower pots left anonymously inside the arts and crafts room when you walk in to set up the activity for the day. You were originally going to have the younger kids color in their own guitars to hang up in the music room—an activity that was not on the activity suggestions list—and give the older ones some clay and let them go to town, but you suppose that decorating flower pots will be just as entertaining. At least you didn’t have to go hunting for the materials. 

The only problem with decorating flower pots is that, once the campers have painted streaks and polka dots and glued charms all over them, the flower pots have a rather specific place to go. A place that is part of a notable Park Jimin’s domain. 

A sneaky little feeling beneath your skin suspects that someone may have let it slip to Namjoon that you and Jimin could do with a bit of relationship repair. And Namjoon and Yoongi have been bunking in the same cabin for as long as you can remember. 

Sighing to yourself as you begin to set up the flowerpots on old newspapers spread out on the wooden tables, you decide that spending an hour with Jimin in the greenhouse (maybe even less if you can find an excuse to get yourself out of there!) couldn’t be any worse than being crouched down behind that cobwebbed old shed with his hand on your wrist and his eyes gazing into yours. At least you’ll have thirty campers to maintain the distance between the two of you. 

You suppose that you do have the easier of the two jobs. Arts and crafts is a rather simple activity to oversee, barring the occasional papercut or glue gun burn. Luckily, painting flower pots means that you will really only have to worry about the campers mod-podging their fingers together, and even then, the bathroom is just down the hall. Jimin, with his having to wrangle the kids to garden neatly and not hit each other with the trowels, is going to have it much harder. 

There’s a part of you that knows you’ll stick around. Not just to lessen the load of campers for him, but just so you can spend a little more time in the same room, breathing the same air, pretending that things are the way that they used to be. 

When you leave the arts and crafts room to hike the ten minutes to the greenhouse, followed by all of the campers dutifully carrying their brand new flowerpots in their hands, you feel like a young bird leaving the nest. Taught to fly little by little, but one day forced to face the real world and exist without the safety net you’ve called home for so long. The arts and crafts room hasn’t always been your favorite place in the camp, but this year it’s felt like you’ve been holding on particularly tight.

Jimin is already waiting happily in the greenhouse for your arrival, this stupid old gardening apron tied around his waist with a faded picture of a cartoon cactus on the front that says free hugs. He watches fondly as all of the kids shuffle into the greenhouse, the whole room just barely big enough to fit all of you, wide eyes peeking out from behind seed packets and green leaves. 

You stay in the back corner as Jimin gets to work, having all of the campers place their pots on the tables in front of them, bright plastic buckets of soil at the ends of their tables, flower seeds waiting to be planted. 

As much as Jimin is fantastic at patching kids up inside the first aid tent, the greenhouse is where he really belongs. The harsh rays of the sun are softened by the glass walls as they beam down on him, surrounding him with this warm yellow halo, painting him into the scenery behind him. Here, amongst the lush vegetables and flowers and ferns, Jimin doesn’t look like an underpaid camp counselor carrying the weight of thirty children on his back. He looks like this fairy in the woods, this forest sprite that has grown up amongst the trees and the moss and the wildflowers, who has learned to tend to the world’s greatest garden. He looks like someone whose mere presence makes the plants smile a little wider. 

Jimin’s like that with everyone. It should come as no surprise to you that the plants feel better when they’re around him, too. 

Jimin has always been so good with kids. More so than any of the other counselors, really, though they all try their best to be fun and friendly and gentle and stern all at once. But there’s something in Jimin’s nature that just makes him the best at it, something about the way he cares for them so deeply, something about the soft lines of his face that earns him their trust the fastest. He’s good with everything that camp throws at him, from frisbees to murky water to lake monsters, but nothing has ever seemed quite as right for him as his connection with the campers. 

The children don’t know how lucky they are to know someone like Jimin. Someone who believes wholeheartedly in the goodness of others, someone who will stop at nothing to fix what has been broken. 

You think about how lucky you are to love someone like Jimin every day of your life.

“Mr. Jimin?” A squeaky little voice pipes up. It’s a young girl named Zoe, whose flower pot is decorated with a painting of her entire family, a group of four stick figures with red shirts and purple dresses holding hands together, loopy smiles drawn onto their faces. 

“Just Jimin, alright?” Jimin corrects. 

“Are you sure these seeds are going to turn into flowers?” Zoe asks, looking skeptically at the packets in front of her. 

Jimin laughs, and it is as warm as the rays of the sun that stream through the glass walls. “I can’t promise that they will, Zoe.”

“Then why are we doing this?” She pouts. 

“Because,” Jimin says, pointing to the packets in front of the campers, “the only way that I can promise that these seeds will turn into flowers is if you guys can promise to love them. Because no matter how much sun they get, no matter how much you water them, they will only bloom if you really, really love them.”

“How do they know?” Another girl pipes up. 

“Flowers are just like us,” Jimin tells her gently. “They can feel when they’re loved, and they love us back by blooming for us.” He shuffles around the back of the greenhouse where he stands, fishing through the shelves lining the walls until he emerges with a rather large pot in his hands, placing it down on the table beside him with a thud. “Take this hydrangea, for example.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the blue flowers flashing before your eyes. 

You planted those together. Last summer. You and Jimin snuck out to the greenhouse while everyone else was eating potato salad for lunch and spent the hour listening to pop songs from the eighties and planting a baby hydrangea. 

They will bloom every year, Jimin said. 

So they’ll always remind us of us, you responded. 

It’s the first time that you and Jimin have looked at each other since you entered the greenhouse. He catches you off-guard, eyes wide as you stare back at him, suddenly feeling this gut-wrenching ache from deep within your belly. And Jimin—

God, Jimin looks like he’s tried everything under the sun and moon to keep that damn hydrangea from wilting. 

“They were planted early last summer. And they bloomed, right? But they look so sad,” Jimin explains, rallying himself and turning his gaze away from you. “And I gave them new soil and watered them regularly, but I’m still missing something.”

“Love!” Zoe shouts. 

“Right,” Jimin says with a tense nod, eyes flickering to yours once more. Your shoulders slump. “But I have a lot of love to give, so hopefully they’ll be alright soon. You guys just have to remember that love is the most important thing that you can give to your flowers. Just like you and me, the flowers need to know that there is someone who loves them.”

But you do know, you want to shout out to him. You’ve known this whole summer and you knew back at the campfire and you probably knew even before that. You’ve known for so long and still the flowers that we planted together are fucking wilting. Like they can’t even bear that this is what we’ve come to. What do you mean, they need to know that there is someone who loves them? You do. And I love you. You must know that, don’t you?

You feel the vines of a thorny rose wrap around your heart, clenching it tight. It’s been in bloom for a year now, thick red petals filling up the empty spaces between your bones, nectar swimming within your veins. And when you picked it, cut it off at its stem to place in Jimin’s hand, it grew only stronger, bloomed only harder.

Oh, if only that hydrangea knew how much you loved him. 

Afterwards, you stay back to help clean up. There’s soil all over the floor, buckets knocked over in the campers’ frenzy to go play games in the gym with Jungkook, discarded paper seed packets and trowels left littered across the tables. 

Jimin doesn’t put on any eighties music. Instead, you stand there in silence, brushing the leftover soil into dust pans and buckets, placing the gardening tools on the rack by the entrance. 

Even though you know flowers don’t wilt that fast, it feels like with every second that passes, the hydrangea is a moment closer to death. The color seems to fade every time you look at them, going from its vibrant pale blue to a sallow green, no longer able to tolerate being in the same room as the two of you. 

Your love doesn’t seem like it’s going to fix it this time. 

“I didn’t know that it was doing so badly,” you say, and the words don’t even feel like they belong to you when you hear them back, making Jimin stop dead where he stands. 

“What?” He asks. 

“The hydrangea.”

Jimin looks over at the pot on the table, and he sighs, helpless. “I’ve tried everything. It just doesn’t seem to be working with me this year.”

It’s no secret to the both of you why. 

“Hopefully you can figure something out,” you offer alongside a half smile. “I would hate to see them die after only a year in bloom.”

“Me too,” Jimin sighs. 

“How have you been?” You ask him, because you never really did get a real answer when you asked him that very first day. And because no matter what you do, you’ll always be curious about him. 

“Alright,” Jimin says, and it’s not a lie. “I’m looking forward to graduating next year.”

“Yeah, me too,” you say, even though you’re only looking forward to the not-being-in-college part of graduating. Not so much the being-chucked-into-the-real-world part. “How’s the major coming along?”

“Well, physics never gets any easier,” Jimin jokes, and even though it’s a little bit forced it makes the two of you both laugh, desperate to get back to the way that things used to be, step by step. “What about you? Still going for English?”

“With a side of business so that I don’t end up a broke poet,” you remind him. “But yeah.”

“Maybe you can write me into one of your stories,” Jimin suggests. 

Oh, but doesn’t he know already? He’s the main character in every single one. All of your poems are about him. He is your inspiration and your muse. He fills up each blank page all on his own. Doesn’t he know? 

“Maybe,” you agree, even though there has never been a ‘maybe’ when it comes to him.

You nearly drop the plastic bucket of soil on your toe when you hear his next question. 

“Have you, uh, been seeing anyone lately?” Jimin scratches at the nape of his neck, clearly nervous. Your heart sinks. Out of all of the possible questions he could ask you to keep this relatively casual conversation going, he chooses that one? 

You look up at him, wondering why on earth he’s asking you this when your love has already been laid out bare in front of him, every corner unfolded so he can read across the lines like a map, memorize the splotches of color. You look up at him and you are helpless, desperate for him to realize that even with thousands of miles and hundreds of days between you, for you, it has always been him.

You wonder if the only reason he’s asking is to see if you were starting to move on. 

“No,” you mutter lifelessly. “I haven’t.” And then, like a devilish whisper in your ear, “Have you?”

You almost expect him to say yes. You almost expect to hear him recount all of the fantastic dates he’s been on, all of the loving relationships he’s been in, but instead, he says, “Me neither.”

And that? That makes your heart stop dead in its tracks. 

“I tried to, you know,” Jimin says, and each word is a puncture wound inside of you. “But I just couldn’t. Nothing really stuck.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you tell him, because you are. Because Jimin deserves to love someone who will love him back. Someone that isn’t you, someone who hasn’t been hopelessly pining after him for a year. 

“No, it’s alright.” Jimin shrugs. “I’m kind of glad that nothing stuck.”

And if hearing the words “me neither,” leave his lips made your heart freeze up, then hearing these words set it aflame. You don’t respond, instead choosing to let the words etch themselves into your memory, carve themselves into your heart, give you hope, if only a droplet of it. Any is enough to have your heart beating a little faster.

“I miss this,” Jimin breathes out, and if you closed your eyes and pretended that you were somewhere else it would almost sound like a confession. You glance up at him, and he is so empty, clinging hopelessly onto the remnants of things past just like you, and you realize that being honest is really the only option you have left. “I miss doing stuff like this.” 

The with you goes unspoken, but it rings loud and clear in your ears anyway. 

“I miss it too,” you say, because Jimin must know already, doesn’t he? How if you could choose to go on loving him without him ever knowing, then you would do it in an instant? How loving him silently was painful but loving him like this, unbearable. “I feel like it’s been a long time.”

A long time since you both really spoke to each other. A long time since you were friends the way you used to be. A long time since you first began to love him.

“Can’t we go back?” Jimin asks, a foolish question. He should know better than to ask for something he already knows he can’t get. 

“You know we can’t,” you tell him. You’ve already tried.

“Then can we begin again?” He proposes, the two of you meeting in the middle of the greenhouse, right in front of the hydrangea. You hadn’t even realized you were barely three feet away from him until you were already there. “Please? I miss us, Y/N. Don’t you miss us, too?”

Gazing at Jimin, you feel your heart tremble. One thing that hasn’t changed is how weak you are to his touch, to his eyes, to the way that they make every part of you feel like jelly, feel like you’ll collapse without him to hold you up. You’ve never been able to say no to him. It’s one of the things you don’t think you’ll ever outgrow. 

“We can try,” you say, because being honest may be hard, and talking even harder, but now you would rather try to piece yourselves back together than spend the rest of the summer wondering what to do with the shattered remains on the floor, stepping around them instead of cleaning them up, repairing what has been broken. 

It’s like the words are music to Jimin’s ears, the way he lights up, grinning wide and real and true. He inhales and it feels like a breath of fresh air, like a brand new season has come to rest upon the two of you. It feels like relief. It feels like hope. It feels like new.

You hadn’t realized it before, but you’ve been dying to make him smile. 

Next to you, the hydrangea seems just a little bit brighter. 

It’s getting easier. 

No longer are you turning in the opposite direction whenever you see him hanging around the center of camp, praying that he hasn’t spotted you from where you stand. Nor are you making excuses about having to go help Namjoon with something or run back to your cabin whenever he shows up to spend time with you and the other counselors. 

And even though it’s still a little tense when you accidentally look up at the same time and meet eyes, even though it still feels like you two aren’t quite the same, it’s getting easier. 

You’ve even begun to eat lunch together again. 

It’s not exactly like it was before, not like when you would scurry off to the greenhouse or the shed or some other hidden place, spread out a picnic blanket and bask in each other’s company, laughing about anything and everything, but it’s better. It’s better than how it used to be, when you would always bring your lunch back to your cabin to eat in silence, drown yourself in your comforter and your thoughts, letting them pile on top of you, one by one. It’s better than how you used to pretend that you didn’t even know each other. 

Slowly, step by step, things have almost started to feel normal again. 

“You guys seem happier lately,” Taehyung commends mindlessly as he sits down across from you and Jimin, three pieces of meat lover’s pizza on the paper plate he sets on the tabletop. 

You and Jimin smile at each other. You suppose that you have been.

“Three, Tae?” The moment gone too soon, Jimin’s focus is immediately redirected to the behemoth meal in front of Taehyung. “Seriously? Aren’t you lactose intolerant?”

“The meat balances it out,” Taehyung says matter-of-factly, even though it definitely doesn’t. He takes an enormous bite out of one of the slices, eating nearly half the pizza in a single chomp. “But seriously, I mean it. You guys look a lot happier. Yoongi!”

Yoongi freezes in his tracks from where he’s walking by your table, spilling his open soda can all over his plate of pizza at Taehyung’s shout of his name. 

“Don’t you think that Jimin and Y/N seem happier?” Taehyung asks, motioning to the both of you. 

“I don’t know,” Yoongi says with a shrug, aloof as always. You chuckle to yourself, knowing fully well that it was him who got Namjoon to leave two stacks of flower pots in the arts and crafts room to give you an extra push towards talking with Jimin. Taehyung huffs, disappointed but not surprised that Yoongi contributed so little to the conversation, but he doesn’t notice how Yoongi gives you a smile and a thumbs up as he heads over to where Namjoon and Hoseok are sitting. 

“Well, I think you guys do,” Taehyung says pointedly. 

“Did we seem… unhappy to you?” Jimin asks, an eyebrow raised. 

“No,” says Taehyung. “I don’t know, you guys just seemed different. You know, I was talking with Jin and he and I were convinced that the two of you were dating last year and then broke up sometime before this summer because you guys were acting so weird earlier.”

“Really?” You ask, cracking an awkward smile just to keep the mood light because god, Taehyung really is a lot more observant than you give him credit for. “That’s so funny, honestly.” It’s not. “You know that we’re just friends, Tae.”

Next to you, Jimin is staring down his lunch like it’s insulted his family. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as he opens his mouth to say something, anything, goddamnit, anything that will make you feel like you’re not the only one who wants you two to be friends again. Anything that will remind you that being friends is all you have left because he will never love you back. 

“You could have fooled me,” Taehyung acknowledges. “Seokjin was pretty convinced, too. We even had a bet going to see which one of you would admit it first.”

“You guys bet on us?” Jimin asks, a little horrified and a lot of something else, something that you can’t quite place. 

“Not with money!” Taehyung defends. “Marshmallows for the end-of-camp counselor campfire. But neither of you ever said anything so we ended up just dropping it and ate as many marshmallows as we wanted.”

Oh, if only Taehyung knew. Oh, if only he had heard you that night, heard you pour your heart out in front of that fire. Oh, if only he had noticed, noticed the warm yellow glow that made Jimin look like he had been bathed in candlelight, noticed those roasted marshmallows over the heat, noticed the words that replay in your head like a broken record. 

There’s a part of you that wants to know who Taehyung was betting on. A part of you that is wondering why on earth would either of them ever assume that Jimin would be the one to confess first when he has only ever seen you as a friend and you have always seen him as something more. Seen him as this dream come to life, seen him as the answer to all of your prayers. 

Jimin never would have confessed first. That hasn’t changed. 

“Thinking back, it was kind of stupid of us to bet on you guys when you hadn’t even confirmed anything,” Taehyung says with a sigh, pursing his lips together tightly. “I don’t know. I guess that Seokjin and I both really, really wanted you guys to get together.” He chuckles, but it isn’t funny anymore.

Believe me, Tae, you think to yourself. You guys weren’t the only ones.

“Eh,” Taehyung hums, shrugging to himself. He clearly isn’t as caught up about it as you and Jimin, who wonder every day how different things would be if you had just kept your damn mouth shut that night, if you had never loved him in the first place. “I guess I’m just glad to see you both smiling again.”

“Thanks, Tae,” you say, because even if Taehyung doesn’t know the whole story he’s still hit the nail on the head, and even if he can’t pick up the way that Jimin’s body has tensed up beside you, even if he doesn’t notice how normal feels like the furthest thing to describe the two of you right now, he has always wanted the both of you to be content.

“Makes me kinda sad to know you guys are just friends, even though I’m obviously not going to force you into anything.” Taehyung takes another bite of his pizza, the words just conversational to him even if they clearly aren’t to either of you.

Slowly, Jimin looks back up from his lunch, like he’s finally made up his mind. You meet Jimin’s eyes when he does, and for once you don’t dare jump into the swirling sea of his irises, for once you can hardly tell if the waves are calm or rough. For once, it feels like Jimin is looking at you the way you look at him—helplessly.

Taehyung smiles, looking fondly at the both of you. “You guys would have been cute together,” he says it because he means it. “You make each other so happy.”

He means that part, too.

The end-of-camp show is a longstanding tradition where all of the kids, divided by age group, celebrate the best part about summer and going to a sleepaway camp: being away from their parents. There are dance performances choreographed by the counselors (namely Hoseok, who has the most free time because his other job mainly consists of making sure Namjoon doesn’t lose his head), a guitar performance organized by Seokjin (who has promised not to rickroll everyone this year), and an art show setup by you to display all of the treasures that the campers have created. But your favorite part of the show is how, no matter how much time time is spent practicing and rehearsing, the performance will always end in chaos. The only predictable thing about it is its unpredictability. 

This year, as suggested by Hoseok and immediately implemented by Namjoon, the counselors are being roped into a performance of their own, one that is bound to be even more disastrous because even though you can all listen to directions, you are all also just as capable of purposely disobeying them. 

Part of you suspects that the only reason Hoseok even recommended that you all do this is because he enjoys watching the camp counselor collective crash and burn. Like there’s something cathartic about watching you go up in flames.

Nevertheless, you do it, because if not for yourselves then for Hoseok, and if not for him then for Namjoon, both of whom tirelessly to make sure that camp is a place where you and the other counselors can do the dumbest things without repercussions. If it weren’t for the two of them, camp would be a lot less fun.

Hoseok also just absolutely relishes in being in charge of something, something that involves dancing and singing and performing, which are his favorite things to do, and it would be cruel of all of you to deny Hoseok this opportunity, if only for a silly little camp performance. 

Hoseok manages to wrangle a time and space for rehearsal thanks to one of those magic scientists that perform cool things with chemicals, one that Namjoon has arranged to visit camp to give you and the other counselors a much-needed break from the endless excitement of children. 

And so, you all trickle into the empty counselor meeting room at three in the afternoon exactly, waiting to see what the hell Hoseok has come up with now. 

All of the tables, chairs, and other miscellaneous furniture has been pushed up against the walls, leaving just enough room for all of you to fit relatively comfortably, with Hoseok standing smack in the middle of the room, looking proud. 

“I’m scared,” Hazel admits to you as you pass by Hoseok to stand where the rest of the counselors have gathered. You sneak a peek at the clipboard in Hoseok’s hand, which isn’t empty this time, and is instead filled with sheets of paper that look like they belong in the hands of a sports coach, X’s and O’s and arrows littering the pages. 

“Don’t be,” you say, though the tremble of your voice is probably doing very little to calm her nerves. You end up grouped together with Jimin and Yoongi, who are both standing in silence, waiting for something to pull them out of their thoughts. “Hey,” you say softly, giving Jimin a nudge. 

“Hey,” Jimin responds, face lifting a little when he sees you. From behind him, Yoongi is eyeing the both of you, but he doesn’t seem very worried. Jimin laughs tensely. “I’m nervous about what Hoseok has in mind for us.”

You glance over to Hoseok as he talks animatedly with Namjoon, who looks a little bit in over his head. Namjoon must have known that Hoseok would spare no expense when it came to a counselor performance. 

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” you assure him with a squeeze to his wrist, making him smile weakly at you. 

“First Namjoon makes us sit outside, and then he makes us do exercise?” Yoongi huffs. “When will it end?”

“High time he got you out of the damn kitchens,” Jungkook mutters to himself, making all of the other counselors within earshot laugh. Yoongi turns around to give Jungkook half of a noogie before Hoseok claps to get everyone’s attention. 

“Alright, hi everyone!” Hoseok cheers. “Glad you all could make it.”

“Did we have a choice?” Seokjin asks. 

“Nope!” Hoseok grins. “Anyway, as you know, this year Namjoon and I have been thinking of doing a counselor performance at the end-of-camp show to show unity and entertain the kids, since they’re the ones who have been doing all of the work thus far to make the camp show a reality. And I, as your assistant head counselor and dance choreographer, get to set it up!”

“Oh, God,” Taehyung says. 

“It’s not going to be a super serious thing because this is camp and we’re literally performing for prepubescent children, so don’t worry!” He says, doing nothing to ease people’s worries. He turns around to face the chalkboard, and begins to magnet the pieces of paper from his clipboard onto it, page by page, as the rest of you stare on in horror. “But I have come up with a bit of a dance for us to perform…”

“Oh, God,” Seokjin repeats dramatically. 

“Anyway,” Hoseok says, clapping his hands together once more to redirect everyone’s attention from the mess on the board back to him. “It’ll be a bit of a partner dance for the first half, and then everyone gets about five seconds worth of a solo in the middle where you can do whatever you want—” when Hoseok spots Jungkook, Taehyung, and Seokjin already beginning to scheme, wicked smiles widening, he quickly adds, “—within reason, and then a big old group thing to finish it up. Does that sound good?”

“Whoop,” Yoongi deadpans.

“Great!” Hoseok says, fumbling for another piece of paper in the stack that he still has left on his clipboard. 

“God, a partner dance?” You ask awkwardly, feeling noticeably more worried than before. It’s not that you’re dreading having to dance, or even having to perform in front of a bunch of kids, it’s the idea of having to dance with someone else, a specific someone else in particular, that has your stomach doing flips. “Why did Hobi think that was a good idea?”

“It might be fun, don’t you think?” Jimin says, trying to keep the mood light. It’s clear he has no worries about the potential for being paired up with you, which might have been able to fly last year but this summer, you’re not so sure. You and Jimin just managed to start eating lunch together again without wanting to curl into a ball and hide. What’s going to happen if you have to dance with each other?

“I’m not a very good dancer,” you admit, a weak excuse for your real fear. 

“Then I’ll teach you,” Jimin says, and the words are hopeful and filled with light as he works so desperately to remind you that not all has been lost. That you can begin again. 

“Okay, partners,” Hoseok says, looking at his list. “Namjoon and Yoongi, Jungkook and Seokjin, Taehyung and Hazel, Maria and Ruby, Jia-yi and Quinn, and Jimin and Y/N.”

Shit. 

Yoongi, noticing your alarm, immediately interrupts, “Uh, is it possible for us to switch partners?”

“Why?” Hoseok asks innocently. 

And in that split second, that moment of pause, you look from the wide-eyed Yoongi to Jimin, who is gazing back at you like he’s finally got it right, like he’s finally been given an opportunity to fix what you had broken, to repair your relationship, brick by brick, if only for a stupid counselor performance. Jimin, who is smiling and smiling and smiling because you are finally eating lunch together and you are finally watering that damn hydrangea and you finally get to dance together, and everything in the world is slowly beginning to feel right, the dust is beginning to settle after a month’s worth of storms. 

You inhale, then you exhale, and you say, “I’m fine with my partner. I don’t think we need to switch, do we?”

And you swear, your heart feels lighter already. 

Jimin pops into the arts and crafts room more often these days. Sometimes he actually does it because he needs to drop something off, because a camper left something in the greenhouse or because Namjoon is making him, but most times, he does it just to say hi, just to charm all of the campers as they make collages out of old magazines or glue together fabric for no-sew pillows. 

And every time he does it, every time there is that familiar knock on the door, you nearly tumble over yourself from excitement. The best part about it is how normal it’s all beginning to feel, how familiar it is. You are almost back to where you used to be. 

Almost back to when you loved him, and he didn’t know, and everything was alright. 

Today, the kids are making cards for you to mail back home before the summer is done, before camp comes to a close and they return to their lives and you return to yours. Normally, you’d automatically send the letters back to the parents, but this time, you offer up an alternative. 

“These cards are going to be mailed back home to the people that you love,” you say, holding up your own as an example. It’s a basic one, yellow cardstock with daisies made out of construction paper glued onto it, but it serves as a good guideline for whatever the campers want to do with their own. “You just need to provide their address so that we can make sure it gets to the right person.”

“It doesn’t have to be our parents?” One boy asks.

“Nope,” you say with a smile, shaking your head. “You can send it to anyone you love. It’s just to let them know how you are, and that you miss them.”

“Who are you sending yours to?” A different girl, Rose, asks. 

“I’m not sure yet,” you say, because you don’t really need to let your parents know how you are when you text each other constantly, and all of your friends from back home can see all of the shenanigans you get up to on your social media, but a letter is no fun if only one person ever gets to read it. 

“You should send it to Jimin,” Rose suggests matter-of-factly, making you sputter out the water you were taking a sip of all over the table in front of you. 

“Jimin?” You repeat, forcing a smile. “I see Jimin all the time.”

“But you really like him, don’t you?” She asks, even though she obviously already knows the answer. Goddamn, kids pick up on everything. “I can tell.”

“Is that so?” You return, eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah, me too!” The boy chirps up. “You always look so nervous whenever he comes to say hello. Like you don’t know what to say. That’s what my mom looks like whenever she comes home from a new date with a boy she really likes.”

You do? That is news to you. 

“It’s okay, though,” Rose interrupts. “I think that he really likes you too. Otherwise he wouldn’t just be popping in every other day to say hello!”

“Maybe he really likes seeing you guys, instead!” You offer, feeling your cheeks heating up at the thought that you and Jimin have laid yourselves out bare like a board book for everyone to read. 

“I don’t think so. He looks too happy when he sees you.” The girl shakes her head. “You should send your card to him, so he knows that you love him.”

Oh, he knows, that’s for sure, you think to yourself. There’s no way that Jimin hasn’t already realized that you still love him. That you have always loved him. Even the campers have it figured out, and they’re still in elementary school. But you think that the worst part of this, the worst part of all of these freakishly observant children verbally beating you up with reminders of your relationship with Jimin, is how they seem to think that Jimin likes you back. That Jimin sees you as something more. 

Because he didn’t, last year. And he didn’t, earlier this summer. And there is no way things have changed that much. 

“You guys should keep working on your cards,” you say, desperate for the subject to drop, desperate to talk about anything, literally anything, besides Jimin. “We want to send them by the end of the week so that the people you love will get them before camp’s over.”

“So you do like him!” The boy exclaims. 

“Cards, Oliver!” You reprimand him, earning a chorus of giggles, though there is no mistaking the way your body has tensed, the way your words are shaking. No mistaking how your heart trembles at the thought of Jimin, sweet, wonderful, beautiful Jimin, actually liking you back. 

It can’t be. 

You and Jimin have always just been friends. That’s all you’ll ever be. You swear. 

You swear.

“The hydrangea looks better,” you comment as you enter the greenhouse, eyes immediately darting towards the pot on the table at the front. In it, the hydrangea has blossomed fully, its petals a vibrant sky blue, basking in the faint glow of the sun as it streams into the greenhouse, peeking between the misty gray clouds, painting everything with a hazy yellow warmth. 

“It does, doesn’t it?” Jimin asks from where he’s wrestling with an enormous packet of soil, pausing his battle to turn and look at the blossom, smiling to himself. “I think we must have worked some sort of magic.”

“Or maybe it’s just your expert gardening skills,” you tease, hauling in some plants by the door that Jimin has been meaning to bring inside the greenhouse for days now. “I’m not in here enough to make any sort of noticeable difference.”

Jimin scoffs disbelievingly. “You’re in here almost as much as I am nowadays.”

“Just to help out,” you defend weakly, pouting to yourself. It’s not like you’ve completely abandoned your air-conditioned arts and crafts room to fool around in the balmy greenhouse, soil underneath your fingernails and seeds stuck to your clothes. You just prefer to spend your free time here. Nothing criminal about that.

Plus, Jimin sure doesn’t seem to mind. 

“And for that, I thank you,” says Jimin with a grin, the bag of soil finally beginning to cooperate with him. He hauls it over his shoulder to bring into the back room, where he keeps all of the bigger tools and plants that are too advanced for the campers, and you pretend not to ogle the way his biceps bulge as he carries the soil away, the bag easily fifty pounds or more. 

What? You didn’t fall in love with Jimin just because of his electric personality. 

“Besides, you come into the arts room so often that all the kids are starting to think you work there instead of here,” you remind him pointedly. He laughs, and the sound bounces off of the glass walls, filling up the room. 

Jimin comes out of the back room, a little bit of soil smudged onto his cheek from his gloves, and he’s smiling. “Maybe I just like seeing you.”

“Next time we do a craft I’ll make sure to prepare an extra one so you can do it with us,” you joke, ignoring the way his words warm you from the inside out, convincing yourself that this is what it was like last year, too, so Jimin doesn’t mean anything by it. 

Convincing yourself that Jimin has never loved you the way that you love him. 

“Am I going to be allowed to sit next to you?” He asks as he walks up to where you’re working, that same flirty lilt to his voice, that teasing tone that he always used to use on you, especially whenever it came down to spending time together. 

“Only if you’re good,” you chide in response, leaning over to pick up a flower pot just so you don’t have to see his damn face, so you don’t have to see the way his eyes glint in the sun as he toys with you, as he presses all of your buttons with ease.

Obviously, you had seriously miscalculated how far away he was, because by the time you’re standing up straight he’s right behind you, playfully pinching at your waist, the sensation sending an electric jolt through your veins. You jump and gasp at the feeling, nearly dropping the goddamn flower pot, body suddenly turning to jelly. Behind you, Jimin is in stitches. 

“I could have dropped this!” You scold him as he doubles over in laughter, giggling and giggling and giggling, so much so that you can’t even pretend to be angry at him, too endeared by his happiness, by his pure joy, to shout at him any more. 

“You’ve always been so ticklish, Y/N,” Jimin says between puffs of air, trying to catch his breath.

“I am not! You just surprised me!” You defend, even though Jimin’s right and he knows it. Your outrage leaves him in hysterics still, amused by the way you so easily fall right into his trap.

“Whatever you say,” he singsongs, helping you haul in the last of the flowerpots. “I think that’s the last of them.”

“Next time I show up, a whole different part of the greenhouse will need work,” you say with a sigh, because no matter how much you do, no matter how much you clean and reorganize, there will always be something left. 

“The work is never done,” Jimin says with a smile, having already resigned himself to this fate. “But I think it looks pretty good.”

And looking at the greenhouse, looking at the vibrant hues that fill the room, from the rich golden marigolds to the bright pink lilies, from the rich green leaves to the soft blue hydrangea, you have to agree. It’s no wonder why Jimin loves this place so much, spends so much time in it despite its severe lack of circulation and the absence of reliable shade. It’s because everything in here he has had a hand in making. Everything in here is here because of him. 

This place will never not remind you of him. 

“It’s getting late,” Jimin says, checking his watch. “You think they have dinner ready for us?”

“God, I hope so,” you say with a sigh. “I’m starving.”

“Then shall we feast?” He asks, holding his arm out for you to take. 

You wrap your arm around his own, and you grin. “We shall.”

Then the thunder cracks, and the sky begins to sob. 

You’re barely three feet out the door before you feel the wet splotches on your shoulders, cold drops on your skin, made thicker by the leaves above your head, forcing you to retreat back into the greenhouse. Thanks to the glass, the raindrops that hit the rooftop ring like mallets on a drum, booming and loud, echoing throughout the room. 

“Damn,” Jimin says, staring out at the once sunny clearing, now shrouded in a grey haze. “It was sunny two minutes ago.”

“It’s just a summer storm,” you assure, arm still wrapped up tight in his own. “They never last long.”

“Think we should wait it out?” He asks. 

“Whatever you want to do.”

Jimin grins, squeezing you tight. “How about this? Five minutes, and if it doesn’t stop, we make a run for it?”

You nod. “Five minutes.”

Five minutes pass and the rain has no intention of letting up, seemingly getting heavier as you count down the seconds, the light grey fog that has blanketed the clearing turning to an angry deep blue, thick and endless. The alarm on Jimin’s watch goes off, signifying your wait’s end, and you open your mouth to suggest that maybe you should wait here a little longer, but barely get the first letter out before Jimin is flinging open the door to the greenhouse and pulling you out into the rain. 

You shriek as the drops hit you, little pellets of water striking you like beads, soaking your clothes and your skin everything in between. Jimin looks back from where he’s running in front of you, one hand still wrapped around your wrist, and his hair is in strands and his shirt is sticking to his torso, and you don’t think that, in your three years of knowing him, you’ve ever seen him happier. He pulls you out into the rain and he looks like a shot from a movie scene, looks like the hero in a coming-of-age film, letting the rain wash away his worries and his insecurities, letting himself be reborn beneath the crying sky. 

And he stops, and you stop, and you stand there in the pouring rain just looking at each other, picturesque frames, moments in time, letting the water soak into your skin, letting it trickle down your cheeks, decorating your eyelashes. You feel his hand sink down to your own, feel your fingers intertwine. And he is smiling, God, he is smiling so fucking wide, smiling at you like there is no place he would rather be, smiling at you like you smile at him when you think he isn’t looking, like you are the reason he is filled with light. Jimin stands there in the rain with his hand on your wrist and droplets of rain dotting his skin, and he is brand new. And you watch him, watch the way it rains down upon him, and you wonder what the hell he is thinking. 

You wonder what on earth he sees when he looks at you. 

(Is it the same as what you see when you look at him?)

“Aren’t you cold?” You ask him, feeling like your voice is a distant melody, feeling like it’s coming from somewhere else. 

He shakes his head, and you can see the rain spraying from the ends of his hair, soaked strands framing his face. “Isn’t this wonderful?” He asks up to the sky, tilting his head up to let it rain down upon him, let the droplets drizzle down his cheeks. “Don’t you love it?”

“It’s nice,” you admit, because there’s something refreshing about being here, about being caught in the midst of a summer storm, washing away the dirt and sweat and worries. 

“It’s perfect,” Jimin corrects, voice trampled by the rain, thick and heavy. “I feel like this is just what I needed.”

“Needed for what?”

He looks back at you, looks at the way your bodies are still connected, at the way you’re standing barely a foot apart in the pouring rain, and he grins and says, “Just what I needed to know.”

You don’t have time to ask him what he needs to know, what he has been so desperate to learn, before he’s pulling you back into him and up onto the deck, wet footsteps on the wooden porch as you heave yourselves out of the rain and into the counselor meeting room, drenched from head to toe. 

“Oh my God, what the hell happened to you guys?” Seokjin asks, shocked when he spots the two of you, still holding hands. 

“Got caught in the rain,” you say sheepishly, still feeling out of breath. 

“In the rain?” Taehyung asks. “For how long?”

“Long enough,” Jimin answers this time, finally letting you go to run towards the back of the room. You watch helplessly as he does, your hand clenching around nothing, missing his touch. When he returns, he’s got a dry windbreaker in his hand, crumpled up from being in his backpack for so long. “Here, use this,” he says, placing it over your shoulders, pulling the collar tight at your front. 

“Thanks,” you say breathlessly, wondering what the hell Jimin is going to use to dry himself off, clothing so soaked not even a day in the sun could dry it. 

“That was fun,” Jimin says, fixing the windbreaker over your shoulders to make sure it’s covering as much of you as possible. “Who knew, right?”

“Right,” your voice trails off, too focused on the way his brows are furrowed as he tries to dry you off with a jacket made of fabric meant to repel water rather than absorb it, mouth pressed into a pout as he shuffles it around, drying off whatever he can. 

“Maybe we can do it again sometime,” he says when he’s satisfied, gazing into your eyes, trying to get you to gaze back into his own. When you falter, he chuckles, this little huff of air dispelled from his lungs. “I’m gonna go bother Hoseok for something dry. Don’t stay in those clothes too long, or you’ll catch something.”

With that, he disappears into the other room, soggy footsteps leaving prints in his wake. You’re so busy watching his back disappear from view that you don’t even notice Namjoon coming up to you, a sage expression written all over his face. 

“What?” You challenge, not liking the way he looks so suspicious. 

“Nothing,” he says with a laugh and a shake of his head. “I just… don’t know if you really do have anything to worry about when it comes to him.” He nods his head in the direction of Jimin before vanishing, called over by Seokjin and Jungkook to complain to him about something, leaving you floundering in the doorway to the counselor’s room. 

Does Namjoon know something you don’t?

Are you missing something here?

Because as far as you’re concerned, you and Jimin are finally getting back to where you used to be. As far as you’re concerned, you and Jimin did these same things last year, worked in the greenhouse together, planted flowers together, ate lunch together (okay, maybe you didn’t stand in the pouring rain together), and you are positive Jimin didn’t love you back then. As far as you’re concerned, this isn’t different. This is normal. 

Outside, the rain has stopped, a rainbow hidden behind the trees the only reminder that it was ever there in the first place. 

Despite the fact that you will literally only be performing for a bunch of children, Jimin is insistent on teaching you how to dance. 

At least, that’s it looks like, when he asks you to meet him in the counselor’s room one day half an hour before the mandated practice that Hoseok’s arranged for the whole group of you while the all the campers are off on a nature hike with some of the local rangers from the reserve nearby. You don’t know why this couldn’t wait until during practice, when Hoseok puts on some upbeat dance music and lets everybody do what they want, which usually ends up in someone getting twirled (usually Seokjin), but you don’t really mind. Your other option was to lie around in your cabin waiting for the next social event. 

Jimin’s already inside by the time you arrive, this smooth, soft jazz playing from the little speaker that he brought with him, set up on a table at the front of the room. The furniture hasn’t been moved back to their original spots since the first practice, so anytime Namjoon calls a meeting everyone ends up sitting on the floor like a kindergarten class, but at least it makes dance practice easier. 

Even though he’s not really dancing, his body is still moving, absorbed in the music as it echoes around the room, hips swaying and head bobbing. He loses himself in the melody so easily, letting each and every note pluck along to the strings of his heart, this deep, mellow sound that fills him up like a wine glass, dulcet and sweet. 

“Hey,” you say softly from where you stand, watching him from the doorframe. 

Jimin jumps a little bit at the sound of your voice, almost embarrassed that he hadn’t spotted you sooner. “Hey,” he says in return, coming to a halt. “I didn’t, uh, see you there.”

“That was kind of the point,” you joke, walking into the room and joining him where he stands in the center. “Why did you want me down here?”

“You mean I need a reason to see you now?” Jimin teases in return, a little smirk playing along his lips. You frown, narrowing your eyes at him, unimpressed. He gives. “Alright, you got me. I promised you a dance lesson, didn’t I?”

“This isn’t the kind of music that Hoseok puts on, though,” you point out, even as Jimin intertwines his hand in your own and pulls you in close to him, the two of you stepping in time to the beat, not too slow but not too fast, either, this even, steady swing, the sort of thing an old bar would play during the evening rush. Jimin doesn’t pay your comment any attention, instead focusing on his hand on your side, your fingers laced together between your bodies. 

You have, admittedly, never been much of a musical person. You never go out to clubs because sweaty, drunk people just aren’t your style, you don’t ever dance, and you can barely keep a beat when you sing in the shower. Your body has always been stiff as stone despite your (and your friends’) best attempts to achieve otherwise, and as such, you had long resigned yourself to the fact that you do better with your mouth than with your feet. 

But still, Jimin rallies on, because you’re here, goddamnit, and even if you never dance again after this, at least you can say that you have. He moves you around the room in time with the honeyed melody, even daring to pull some advanced tactics like spinning you beneath his touch, hand held above your head as you twirl in place. And you try to let loose, try to lose yourself in the music like he does, but it’s hard when you have always been more of a wordsmith than a dancer.

What’s also not helping is how every bone in your body always seems to freeze up at his touch. 

“Relax, alright?” He says, guiding you across the old wooden floor, boards creaking beneath your feet. “It’s just me.”

That’s the problem, your brain supplies unhelpfully. 

“I told you that I wasn’t a very good dancer,” you say bashfully, unable to look Jimin in the eye when he is so close, when his body is practically pressed up against yours, when his fingertips leave burn marks where they press against his skin, sparks flying. 

It’s different than when it was raining, because when it was raining, even though you were close, there were other things for Jimin to look at besides you. He gazed up at the sky and thanked it for its tears, gazed around the clearing and surrounded himself in the navy blue haze, closed his eyes and felt the drops on his skin, felt them wash away his nightmares and replace them with dreams. 

It’s different now, because there is nothing impressive about the counselor room. Because the janky old tables and dirty windows aren’t something to be gazed at. Because Jimin’s focus is on you and only you, and it makes you feel like he’s staring right through you, like he’s gawking at your heart where it sits in its cage, trembling beneath his eyes. Jimin makes you want to board yourself up, wall yourself in, and reveal yourself bare all at once, like there is so much that he already knows but so much more that he could, if only things were just a little bit different. 

“You’re doing just fine,” Jimin promises, voice as soft as his steps, padding on the hardwood. You’ve lost track of the number of times you’ve circled the room, Jimin guiding you without reason or rhyme, just rhythm. He makes sure you’re always looking at him, reaches a hand out to tilt your chin back up if you dare glance away, keeping his steely gaze trained on you, determined to have you do the same. “Isn’t this nice?” He murmurs. 

“It is,” you agree. You don’t even have to think about your response, letting the words fall off your tongue, because even if you do feel tense, even if your bones are stiff, there is something about this that sets you at ease. 

And you stay like that, wrapped up in each other, swaying to the beat of this song, a beat that is strikingly similar to the drums of your hearts, and the moment feels as though it’s freezing. Feels as though the rest of the world is fading away, leaving only the two of you and the warm, rich tune that floats through the air, slowing down as time seems to come to a halt. 

“Do you still miss us?” You breathe, and you can see the words as they leave your lips, see them written out in puffs of smoke between you before they fade into nothingness. 

“No,” Jimin responds, equally as speechless. The word disappears quickly in front of you, replaced by his next ones, “because this is what I had been waiting for.”

The words stare down at you angrily, your eyes raking over them, line by line, letter by letter, hoping to imprint them into your skin and your brain and your heart, hoping to keep them locked up besides your love for you to replay, over and over, one of many memories that keep you up at night, that you flicker back to watch like an old film, reminiscing of who you used to be, what you used to do. 

They disappear far too quickly, and suddenly time begins again, and you get dizzy just from how much the rest of the world needs to catch up, whizzing by you in fast forward. Or maybe you’re just dizzy because Jimin has always made you feel this way, always left you gasping for air, weak in the knees, heart pounding. 

God, he makes your heart pound. He makes it drum in your ears like the Nutcracker, like thunder during a summer storm. 

“Don’t you want…” he asks, trailing off, eyes hazy and deep, absolutely unreadable. 

“Want what?” You respond, and you swear you aren’t doing it on purpose but you feel yourself leaning forward, closing the gap between you, inch by inch—

“Want to see me lift Seokjin up in the air?” Jungkook’s voice rings out into the room. “I can, you know, he weighs like two pou—whoa, alright.”

A hoard of people stop behind Jungkook as he stands in the doorway like a floundering fish, blinking at you and Jimin. His arrival does not give you enough time to part without things looking suspicious, without all of the damn counselors already making their assumptions, leaving the two of you separating awkwardly, smiling tensely. 

“What were you guys doing?” Taehyung asks, breaking the silence that has blanketed the room. 

“Practicing,” you say quickly, looking as far away from Jimin as possible. Not even you are buying into your excuse. 

“Sure thing,” Taehyung responds, eyebrows raised in understanding, already having formulated his own, likely more realistic answer. 

“Alright,” Hoseok says, appearing from behind the crowd with a clap of his hands. “I guess that means that Y/N and Jimin don’t need to be joining us today, off you guys go.” He gestures for the two of you to leave, but the only exit doubles as the entrance, which means the two of you are left to shuffle past a crowd of counselors, all of whom are staring at you as you pass them by. Jimin doesn’t reach out his hand, and you don’t make any attempts at changing that. 

You nearly suffocate on the way out, overwhelmed by the tension that has filled the atmosphere, leaving everyone helpless to it. 

Jimin goes in one direction and you go in the other, the both of you clearly too stupefied to say anything meaningful to each other, determined to spend the rest of the night apart in an effort to dispel the dozen rumors that you know have already begun to circle the camp. 

On your way back to your cabin, alone and lost in thought, you finish your conversation. 

“Do you want…” Jimin asks, voice trailing off. 

“Yes,” you say. “I want it all. I want you.”

You wonder if Jimin feels the same. 

There is something eerie about the camp late at night, when the only lights that shine are the dim yellow wall sconces outside of the cabin doors, when everyone is sound asleep in their bunks, when there is only the moon and its stars to keep you company, watch over you from their place in the universe. There’s something eerie about the quiet, not because you have a reason to feel unsettled but because you’re so used to camp being this lively, bustling place, filled with things to do and people to see. 

When you see it like this, empty and silent, it almost makes you think you aren’t even in the same place anymore. 

The one and only place that you go when you cannot sleep is the pier, extending out over the lake, the cool, clear lake, looking out into the midnight horizon, a perfect view of the stars and their reflections, cast over the water, twinkling endlessly. You take a seat on the edge, legs dangling over the water, and you stare out into the world, a cool breeze tickling your skin. 

You wonder what it is that’s keeping you awake tonight. What it is that is holding sleep just out of your grasp, your dreams suspended above your head. Camp ends in three days and for once you finally feel satisfied, feel as though you have done what you wanted and accomplished what you had hoped. The last few days of this summer are a far cry from those of last summer, where you were wearing yourself thin thinking about your confession, thinking about what you would say and when you would say it, and what you would do based on the fifteen thousand different things that Jimin could say in response, so hung up on telling him that you barely focused on anything else. 

But this summer, you and Jimin are finally starting to be alright again. And even though you don’t think you will ever move on from loving him, you have moved on from the fact that he will probably never love you back, moved on from your failed confession, and you are learning to be okay with what you have, even if it’s not what you want. 

The truth is that you and Jimin have never felt closer. Driven by your mutual desperation to be friends again, to return to the way that things were when you were together, when you were inseparable, you have been pulled together like moths to each other’s flames, like the thunder and the lightning. You can’t think of anything from this summer that you have wanted more than to be by his side again. But things are different from last summer, different because you and Jimin are not only friends but friends who have had to reckon with love, with its disastrous effects. 

So maybe that’s why you’re awake tonight. Because this summer feels inexplicably stranger than last summer, and you feel like you’re missing something. 

“I thought I’d be the only one still awake.”

You whip your head around at the voice to find Jimin standing at the other end of the pier, ink black hair hanging over his eyes, stars swimming in his irises. You can barely make out his face this late at night, when there is nothing to cast upon him a glow besides the moon and its lonely companions, but you will never mistake his soft, honeyed voice, never mistake the way his eyes sparkle and shine. He is grinning at you, warm and kind, as he slowly makes his way towards you, footsteps tapping along the worn wooden planks, until he sits down next to you, feet hovering above the water. 

“You and me both, I guess,” you feel yourself whisper, not daring to speak a decibel louder. 

“Lots on your mind?” He asks, looking out into the horizon. You sigh, too tired to respond. He understands anyway, just like he always does. “Mine too.”

You let the silence wash over you like a wave that bathes the shoreline, gazing out into a world that carries on no matter the time of day, no matter who watches over it. Like this, you and Jimin don’t need to explain yourselves to each other. Don’t need to force a conversation just for the sake of filling up the quiet night. Like this, your presence is enough, the knowledge that he is here beside you, staring out into the same sky, into the same moon and stars, is all that you need. 

Something has long gone unspoken between the two of you. Something that you can’t quite place. Jimin has had something to say for a long time but he lets his body do the talking, lets you fill in the gaps. But this time, it feels like the more you try to read between the lines the less you understand, and goddamnit you wish that he would just tell you, would just say it so you don’t have to keep wondering and wondering and wondering—

“I never did tell you,” Jimin says, breaking you out of your reverie.

“Tell me what?”

“Tell you what I was thinking, that night.”

He doesn’t need to elaborate any further for you to know what night he’s talking about. You stare down at the lake, at the way it seems to move into itself even though there is nothing to disturb it. 

“I guess I was just so shocked that you, you know, liked me like that, that I didn’t really focus on anything else. Didn’t think about why, or how, or when, or what to do. It existed separately from all of that,” he admits, breaths heavy. 

“You didn’t need to focus on that stuff,” you assure him softly. “It was my burden to hold. I was the one who chose to tell you. It wasn’t your fault.”

Does he know? Does he know that you never hated him for not loving you back? That you didn’t expect him to do anything about it? 

“I just felt so bad,” he says, and you hear the way the words prick at his tongue, leave burn marks along his lips. “Because I didn’t know what to do after that. I wanted to love you back so badly but I just couldn’t.”

And even though you already knew this, even though you were already well aware that Jimin has always only seen you as a friend, for some reason hearing him say it aloud still hurts, still pierces your heart, wounds that your love for him alone cannot fix. 

“It’s not your fault,” you promise him, because throughout all of this, no matter what, you have never, ever blamed him for not loving you back. “I didn’t expect anything. At all. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Don’t I, though?” Jimin asks, and God, he sounds so helpless, sounds like he’s tried everything under the sun to figure things out and still, nothing has felt right. “We had always been so close. I wondered why I couldn’t fall in love with you and the things that we did together when you could. I thought that I was doing something wrong. You deserved someone who would love you back, and I so desperately wanted to be that person.”

“You owed me nothing,” you declare. “You still don’t owe me a damn thing. All I wanted was for you to know.” And look where that got you.

“Knowing didn’t feel like enough,” Jimin divulges. “I wanted to do more for you than just acknowledge it. I replayed that night in my head, over and over, wondering what more I could have said to you.” He sighs, deep and slow and filled with weight, filled with a year’s worth of thoughts he never told anyone else. “You told me you loved me and it was all I could think about. Then and now.”

“You still think about it?” You wonder aloud, sad because Jimin doesn’t deserve to have this weight on his conscience when you are the one at fault, and hopeful because maybe, just maybe, your confession meant just as much to him as it did to you. 

“I can’t stop,” he confesses. And then he turns to you, turns to you in the glow of the moon, his eyes drowning in starlight, and he says, “Every time I look at you I think about how you love me.”

You don’t know what to say. You are too absorbed in the swirling sea of his irises, letting the warmth wash over you in waves, filling you up before emptying out again, shocks of cold before the heat races through you. Jimin is right there, right here, and he is gazing at you and you wonder. 

You wonder, what if. 

You wonder, what if he loved me back?

“Even when I was away from you I thought about it,” he chuckles to himself, amused at his own obsession. “I thought about you, that night, at the campfire. You were wearing this neon pink camp t-shirt and your marshmallow looked like coal and you had this warm orange glow on you, and I swear to God, that image is imprinted in my brain. I see it every time I close my eyes.”

You didn’t know that. 

“When I went on dates, I saw you instead. I would be sitting in a booth with some girl and she would be trying to talk to me about the menu and all I would see is you.” Jimin exhales, filling the pauses that he leaves between his sentences, eyes raking you up and down as if he’s trying to commit this scene to memory, as if this night on the pier is something worth remembering. “They knew, too. All of them told me that I should get over my ex before going on a brand new date.” 

Get over you? What about you was there to get over? Your love has always been one-sided. You have never known a world where it hasn’t.

“And I wouldn’t even try to explain to them that I didn’t have an ex to get over, and that you were the one who confessed to me, and that I didn’t love you like that,” he forces another laugh, like he doesn’t even believe the words he’s saying himself. “Then this summer rolled around, and I saw you arrive and I just can’t tell you in words how happy I was to see you. How looking at you just lifted my spirits.”

“I hardly recognized you at first,” you admit shyly. 

“I dyed my hair,” Jimin reminds you. That’s right. He had brown hair last summer. “And I wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t know how to without bringing up all the shit that happened last year, and things were awkward between us, and I guess…” he trails off, thinking for a moment. “I guess I just really, really wanted us to get back to the way things were, but I didn’t know how to. And I didn’t know what had changed.”

“Nothing changed,” you say, even though everything did. But loving Jimin has always been a constant in your life, a truth, and this summer was no different. “I wanted to go back to being friends with you, too.”

“I thought I wanted that, too.”

This time, you are the one who turns to look at him. What could he possibly mean by that? 

(Can it be?)

“At first, that’s all I wanted,” Jimin begins. “I wanted us to go back to being friends, I wanted us to eat lunch together and have it not be weird, I wanted us to spend time in the greenhouse and the arts and crafts room together, I wanted us to hang around the rest of the counselors without them noticing how different we were. But then I noticed that the hydrangea was wilting no matter what the fuck I did to keep it alive, and I realized that wanting our friendship back wasn’t enough for me anymore.”

You are frozen in place. You are locked into his gaze, body turning to stone, unable to even utter a single word. To breathe a single breath. And you look into his eyes, Jimin’s beautiful, ocean eyes, Jimin’s sparkling, ink eyes, and you pray. 

“And then Hobi partnered us up for the stupid camp counselor performance, and we got caught in the rain, and then we danced in the counselor meeting room and I just—” His chest heaves, words flounder. As if he has so much to say, as if the words are practically spilling off of his tongue, and yet they are still not enough. He closes his eyes. Pauses. Catches his breath. And then he asks, “If I asked you if you still loved me, would you say yes?”

“Yes,” you breathe out. 

“If I asked you if you wanted me to love you back, would you say yes?”

“Yes,” you whisper again. 

Jimin blinks.

“If I asked you if you wanted me to kiss you, would you say yes?”

You barely get out the first letter before Jimin is pulling you into him and pressing his fiery lips upon yours. His hand cradles your cheek, the other one splayed out on the wooden pier to keep his balance, dragging you into a messy, desperate kiss, one that sends sparks ricocheting throughout your body, turning your blood into liquid flames, that fills you up from the inside out. The feeling of his lips pressed upon yours makes your heart shake so wildly in its cage that it frees itself, growing a thousand times wider. The rose inside of you vanishes, finds itself replaced by a blooming, bright blue hydrangea, one that settles deeply within your soul. 

Your legs dangle off the pier as your arms wrap around Jimin’s body, curling around his torso in a futile effort to bring him closer than he already is, to feel the warmth of him press against you, sending jolts down your spine, into your bones. You feel yourself getting dizzy just at the feeling alone, kiss drunk, the rest of the world spinning like a goddamn teacup ride, but you cling onto him and you know that he will always be there to catch you if you fall. You know that he will always be there to steady you when you feel the world slipping out from beneath your feet. 

You have him, you have him, you have him. You have him, and he is right here, and he loves you like the sun loves the moon, and you love him like the waves love the shore.

When you part, you almost lose your balance and fall right off the damn pier. Jimin reaches out to grab you just in time, saving you from a watery grave (or just major embarrassment), and the two of you laugh, letting your voices fill the moonlit air, heads light, bodies blissed out. 

“Honestly, I was a little nervous you were going to say no,” he admits with a laugh. 

“Impossible,” you chide. “You know I’ve always loved you.”

No matter what, that will never change. 

“And now,” he says, pressing another kiss to your forehead, this one gentle and plush, “you know that I will always love you, too.”

It doesn’t feel like something long overdue. It doesn’t feel like something that you have been waiting and waiting and waiting for, something you have expected from the moment you told him. 

No. This feels like something new. 

This feels like your heart is in bloom. 

The end-of-camp show, no matter how much time and effort Namjoon puts into making it go smoothly, is a train wreck. But it is a train wreck in that wonderful way, in that way where you would be suspicious if things actually went according to plan, in that way where chaos and disarray reign supreme. Quite frankly, when it comes to the end-of-camp show, you never expect anything less. 

The truth is that the majority of the end-of-camp show performances are just for the counselor’s entertainment, an afternoon of fun to wrap up the end of camp, topped off by a fun meal (usually pizza) and a night around a bonfire, letting the heat warm your bodies from the inside out. Unless Jungkook and Taehyung pull some extremely ridiculous prank, the last official day of camp is usually everyone’s favorite, filled with snacks and music and laughter.

The performances by the campers go about as well as any performance by a bunch of elementary schoolers can go—that is to say, the kids remember the first five seconds of the choreography before they devolve into pandemonium, dancing as many weird, trendy dances as they can, and some you don’t even think have been invented yet. Nonetheless, Hoseok is proud, and beams at all of the campers as they scurry away from the center of the gymnasium once their dance is done, grabbing little snacks on the tables by the windows before settling in to watch the next stage. Hoseok does a good job of keeping the music current and upbeat so that nobody falls asleep, and gives the campers enough creative liberty so that it doesn’t feel too practiced. 

Lightly rehearsed, Hoseok likes to say. 

Absolute madness, Yoongi usually corrects.

After the dances, Seokjin and his hoard of campers with guitars the size of an overgrown ukelele make their way to center stage, and you and the other counselors bet on what stupid song he’s taught them all. He starts it off with everyone’s favorite and the most timeless of all tunes—Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star—before the musical highlight. 

(“It’s gonna be Fireflies,” Taehyung insists, so confident in his choice that he even wagers two of the homemade Rice Krispie Treats that Yoongi got all of the campers to make for today’s celebration. 

“It’s been too long since he rickrolled us,” Jungkook says, eyes narrowing suspiciously to Seokjin at the front of the room. “I’m just waiting for it.”

“Wonderwall, obviously,” Hoseok contributes, even though Seokjin got all of the campers from last year to play that. 

You and Jimin are both almost positive Seokjin has chosen to perform Let it Go, a song that will never truly escape you, but you keep your comments to yourselves. 

“I’m thinking Photograph,” Namjoon comments mindlessly, late to the conversation.

“The Nickelback song?” Yoongi says with a scoff. “Dude, we’re the only ones old enough to even know that song. No no, I think it’ll be Despacito.”

“If I have to hear Despacito one more time, I’m going to jump out of the f—” Taehyung stumbles on the syllable as Namjoon turns to glare at him, making Taehyung sputter for a replacement. “F… -reaking window. Watch me.”)

In the end, none of you guess correctly, because Seokjin has chosen to teach all of the campers how to play Country Road, Take Me Home, and honestly, none of you can even be mad about it because by the thirty second mark, you’re all singing along. There’s just something about that song that forces you to belt out the lyrics, something magical and irresistible. 

Afterwards, it is finally time for the counselor’s performance, which, if the camper’s excited screams are anything to go by, is apparently the peak of the afternoon. Hoseok puts on the same upbeat dance music and all of you go to town, following his choreography without any hitches before jumping into the solo section. Namjoon and Yoongi both attempt a trendy Internet dance and fail miserably, Taehyung and Hazel do a little tango that involves no accidents, and then it’s you and Jimin’s turn. 

The music isn’t really appropriate for the slow dance that Jimin taught you in the counselor meeting room, but he makes it work and you follow along, tracing his footsteps and laughing at the prickly sensation his hand on your waist sends shooting through you. You really have always been ticklish there. Hoseok only gives everyone thirty seconds before they’re booted off to the sideline, but thirty seconds is just enough time for Jimin to spin you once before pulling you into a kiss in front of dozens of campers and all of the counselors, whose hollers and hoots fill the gymnasium, bouncing off of the walls and ricocheting into your ears, when they watch you. It has your cheeks heating up something fierce, all embarrassed by Jimin’s big reveal, but the great big smile on his face makes it all worth it. He looks so happy to be here with you. He looks so goddamn happy to have you. 

It makes you feel like you can do anything. 

Ultimately, Jungkook and Seokjin get the greatest applause, because Jungkook lifts Seokjin into the air figure-skating style before Seokjin comes crashing down on him, and they land in a puddle on the gymnasium floor to the screams of all of the campers and counselors, who have never seen anything quite as artistically dramatic in their lives. 

Afterwards, you and Jimin retire to the snack tables alongside the rest of the counselors as the campers are free to roam the building, check out the art on display and eat as many ants on a log and homemade Rice Krispie Treats as they can get their grubby hands on. 

“Congrats, you guys,” Namjoon says, raising his dixie cup filled with lemonade. “It worked out after all.”

“I’m proud of you,” Yoongi murmurs to you, a soft smile gracing his features. 

“Love always prevails,” Jungkook declares, sighing happily, always a hopeless romantic at heart. You sure hope that one day, Jungkook will fall in love with someone who loves him back unconditionally, because he deserves it. 

“Which one of you confessed first?” Seokjin says, Taehyung nodding furiously behind you. You see that the bet is still on. 

“Me,” you say. 

“Me,” Jimin says. 

You both look at each other, eyebrows furrowed, clearly on separate wavelengths. 

Seokjin narrows his eyes. “Alright… which one of you said ‘I love you’ first?”

“That would be me,” you admit sheepishly, having a year’s headstart on Jimin when it comes to love confession. 

“I fucking knew it,” Seokjin says, palm out. Taehyung begrudgingly smacks five dollars into Seokjin’s hand, muttering to himself about how he was convinced that Jimin would tell you first. It makes you wonder, just a little bit, how long Jimin had known.

You open your mouth to defend yourself and your weak, weak heart, when you feel a tap on your side. Behind you is the same girl from the day that you were making cards to send back home to people you love, the one who absolutely grilled you about your feelings for Jimin. 

“Yes, Rose?” You ask happily. 

“So did you send it to him?” She questions. 

“Send what?”

“Your card. Did you send it to Mr. Jimin?” She elaborates, eyes wide in curiosity. You make a mental note to remind her to never stop being inquisitive. It will take her far. 

“No, I didn’t,” you say with a laugh, shaking your head. You look back at Jimin, where he’s laughing with Seokjin and Taehyung about their stupid bet on you, and you grin. He is so beautiful. It’s still hard to believe he’s yours. “Jimin doesn’t need a card to know that I love him.”

Not when he’s right here, and not when you know he loves you back. 

The counselor campfire is held on the day very last night that you spend together, after all of the campers have left the mountain, returning home, and you finally have the place to yourselves. Namjoon and Yoongi light it because everyone else has been banned from doing so after the Great Flame Incident two years ago, and then you all sit on the logs around the fire pit, reminiscing of the summer gone by, musing aloud about what the future holds. 

You and Jimin snuggle up together, and this night faintly reminds you of the one from last year in the way that Jimin still glows, warm and yellow, in the light of the fire, in the way he seems to make perfect s’mores no matter what, in the way that he laughs at everything that you say. But even with all of the similarities, nothing, literally nothing, could top how you feel right now, dancing on cloud nine with Jimin by your side. 

Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you’d have him. Never in your wildest dreams did you think your confession would amount to anything more.

“You’re burning your marshmallow again,” Taehyung points out crudely, the side of your marshmallow already turning an ashy coal color. 

“Ah, fuck,” you mutter to yourself, yanking it away from the fire as you blow on it. 

“You’re never gonna learn, are you?” Jimin teases. He plucks his off of his stick, perfectly toasted, and holds it out for you. “Here, have mine.” You open wide and he pops it onto your tongue, the crisp, sweet flavor melting in your mouth as all of the other counselors groan, clearly wishing that they were somewhere other than here. Jimin’s fingers reach up to your chin, tilting your face towards him, before a thumb comes out to wipe away at the smudge on the side of your lip, a sticky white crumb that he pops into his mouth, earning another round of whines.

“Gross,” Seokjin says, nose scrunched up. “Just because you guys are in love now doesn’t mean you have to keep showing us. We get it.”

“Oh, just leave them alone,” Yoongi chides. “They’ve been pining after each other for so long, let them have this.”

“Thanks,” you murmur to Yoongi. You have a lot to thank him for. He has always been on your side, even when you weren’t. 

“Anytime,” he promises. 

“If they’re gonna be like this next year, then I don’t know how long I’m going to last,” Taehyung admits with a fond sigh, because no matter how much he pretends to be annoyed, you know that he’s happy for you. 

Namjoon sucks in a breath. “Uh, yeah, about next year…” he says, wringing his hands together. “I’m not going to be coming back.” You fall into silence, the only sounds the crackle of the fire, the rustle of the wildlife in the woods. “I have another internship at a firm, and then I’m going to be going into the job market, so I don’t, uh, I don’t really see myself coming back here.”

“Me too,” Yoongi chirps up, earning a surprised look from everyone else. “I’ve just been given an offer to produce music for this small record company, but they’re located across the country, so I’ll be moving soon. I guess—well, I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you all.”

“Congrats,” you tell him, sad to hear he won’t be back but thrilled to know he’ll be doing something he truly loves instead. “Seriously, Yoongi. That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, man, that’s sick,” Jungkook pipes up. “When you’ve won your Grammy you have to remember to mention us.”

Yoongi chuckles to himself, small and quiet, but even in this orange light you can see the way his cheeks are turning cherry red, relishing in the praise. “I’ll miss you all,” he says. 

And slowly, one by one, you all begin to admit that even though you love it here, being a camp counselor had always been temporary, and it just wouldn’t be the same without everyone else here with you too. You and Jimin will be graduating this coming school year. So will Taehyung. Seokjin has a Master’s degree in acting that he wants to pursue. Even Jungkook, who is younger than all of you besides Hazel, has said that he plans to travel with his college lacrosse team next summer. 

“Damn,” Taehyung says when everyone is finished, as you all begin to count how many of you there will be left for next summer. “Who’s gonna do Namjoon’s job?”

“I already asked,” Namjoon says with a proud grin, “and Hazel said she is happy to take on the responsibility.”

“Oh, fuck yeah!” Seokjin shouts, giving Hazel a massive hug, nearly crushing her in two. “Hell yeah, Haze! You are going to be kick ass at that. I’m proud of you!”

The rest of the counselors soon follow suit, congratulating Hazel and cheering for her future. It almost makes you want to come back, but you know that Hazel will be fine without you. As long as she still has her secret stash. 

“Nice work, Haze,” you tell her, earning a shy smile from her in response. “You’ve always been a leader.”

“I’m just nervous I won’t be as good as Namjoon,” she admits timidly, clearly a little overwhelmed at such an enthusiastic response. 

“You have nothing to worry about,” Namjoon assures her. “I know you’ll be fine. Plus, you won’t have all of these losers to worry about, so your workload will be much lighter.”

“Hey!” Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jungkook all shout at once. 

“Don’t get me started on the two of you,” Namjoon chides, eyes narrowed. “You’ve caused me more stress than my senior thesis.”

“Out of love,” Seokjin swears, Jungkook and Taehyung nodding enthusiastically next to him. Namjoon rolls his eyes, even though you know that he secretly loves the extra work that they give him. It keeps him young, in that old-timey kind of way. 

“Then I guess this is it, isn’t it?” Hazel asks, standing up and holding out a finished s’more, already taking on her newly-bestowed head counselor duties. “I suppose I’ll do the honors. Congrats to Y/N and Jimin for finally figuring their relationship out, congrats to Yoongi for getting into that record company, congrats to Namjoon for getting his internship, and congrats to everyone else for doing what they love, and for not letting their dreams be dreams. This summer feels sort of like the end of an era, in a way, don’t you think? I mean, lots of us are moving on to bigger and better things, celebrating the past and aspiring to become people that we hope will be admired in the future. And I guess that I just want you all to know that no matter who you become, no matter what you do, I’ll always be someone who admires you.”

If you were a little drunk or just a little more sentimental, Hazel’s words would almost bring tears to your eyes, but instead you just join everyone in cheers, standing up and clinking your s’mores together.

And in a way, it really does feel like the end of an era. No more summers on the mountain, no more late-night camp pranks, no more hydrangeas in the greenhouse. You’re moving on, not only from this part of your life but from your almost-fruitless quest for love, from the place that led you to fall so deeply for Jimin, the place that has housed every memory you have ever saved of him. You’re moving on to a world where Jimin is with you every step of the way, where you know that he will always be there for you, where you no longer have to fight yourself to keep from loving him, where you have to do everything you can to preserve an already-fragile friendship. 

No. Now, you can take your first step forward with Jimin by your side. 

“Cheers!” Everyone shouts. 

“Cheers,” Jimin says to you, pulling you in for a quick little kiss, and no matter how hot the campfire burns Jimin’s lips upon yours will always be what warms you from within. “Cheers to us.”

You grin against his lips, pressing back because you can never get enough, and you murmur, “Cheers to us.”

“Hey! Jungkook!” Seokjin shouts right as Jungkook hops into his car. “When we text you in the group chat you better fucking respond!”

“I will, I will!” Jungkook screams back, voice so loud you can hear it despite the fact that all of his windows are rolled up. 

“No, he won’t,” Yoongi deadpans as he passes you by, duffel bags hanging from his shoulders. “You know he won’t.”

“He never does,” you agree. Getting a text from him is almost as impossible as winning the lottery. “I’ll call you, alright? I know you don’t really like texting, either.”

“Talking is just easier,” he says with a nod. “I’m looking forward to it. Call me whenever you need me.”

“I will,” you promise, watching as Yoongi bids you one final goodbye before heading to his own ride. He plops his bags into the trunk of Namjoon’s car before getting into the passenger seat. Namjoon pushes his head out of the window to wave, smiling wildly at you as he starts the car. You grin, waving back, and watch him, Yoongi, and Jungkook, disappear down the mountain. 

“You’re next, right?” 

You whip around to find Jimin standing behind you, a frisbee in one hand and a suitcase in the other. He won’t be leaving for another couple of hours, when Taehyung’s finally ready to go. They live close to each other so they figured they’d save money by splitting an Uber, which will be waiting for them at the bottom of the mountain.

“Yeah, gotta get back before college starts,” you say, dropping your bags at your feet. “But we’ll see each other before then, right?”

Jimin and you attend universities on opposite sides of the country. Loving each other is the easy part. Staying in love is what will challenge you. 

“Of course,” he promises. “I’ll visit whenever I can. And I’ll come see you on all my breaks during the semester, too. You and Jungkook.”

“Good, you better,” you say, and you pull him in for a bruising hug because you know that this will be the last time for a while. Not a long while, but a while, and even if you have committed every slope of his figure, every inch of his face to memory, you still have to remember how warm he is when you hold him, how soft his lips are when they touch yours. Those things… those are new. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he assures you. “But I’ll miss you too.”

Several feet away, Hoseok honks the horn of your car to let you know that you’re all ready to go.

“I’ll call you when I’m home, okay?” You promise, pulling him in for another hug, one last time, feeling this strange desperation rush through you, like you won’t see him for weeks and this is all you’ll have left. “Isn’t it weird? You’re right here and I miss you already.”

“We’ll see each other again before you know it,” he says, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet, quick kiss. No matter how many times he does it still sends sparks shooting through your veins, but you suppose that that’s just another thing you’ll have to remember. When you part, he notices your worry, eyes softening at the sight. “Hey,” he says, lifting your chin up so you look at him. “I love you.”

You crack a smile. “I love you, too.” 

It’s not a goodbye. 

It’s an until I see you again.

You grab your duffel bags and hike them over your shoulder, footsteps heavy and weighted as you slowly make your way towards your car. Every four steps or so, you turn back just to make sure that Jimin’s still there, and sure enough, he’s watching you, this lopsided, love-drunk smile lacing his features. 

You place your bags in the backseat of your car before heading to the driver’s side, hand on the handle as you look up one final time. 

There Jimin stands in the middle of the clearing, the warm afternoon sun bathing him in a halo. There he stands, beautiful, and kind, and lovely, and in love. And you are so in love. You wave. He waves back.

And you know that you two will be alright. 

You jump into your car and tug the door shut behind you, keys in the ignition, engine revving, and you sigh, content and feeling confident in life. You peer into the rearview mirror to see Taehyung running up to Jimin, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and waving goodbye to you. You lift your hand up in response, watch as they bid you farewell as you creep towards the slope down the mountain. 

As you drive down the mountain, you take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh summer air, and you smile. 

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[cupofteaguk]

on the road (to you)

summary: as a young adult, one of the strangest revelations is the discovery that peers of yours from past fragile college years are getting married. so imagine your shock and excitement upon receiving a wedding invitation. there are, however, two problems: (1) you are a poor early-20s recently employed adult just beginning to adjust to your 401k plan, and (2) the only available ride to the wedding comes in the form of Jeon Jungkook—friend of a friend, attendee to that aforementioned wedding, and your old college crush. 

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: roadtrip au, strangers to lovers au | fluff/angst 

warnings: recreational alcoholic consumption, definitely not an accurate representation of how a road trip might actually be, mentions of anxiety + insecurities, very minor book reference to: The Night Circus, equally minor movie references to: Mission Impossible and The Princess Bride because I have a problem, light makeout sessions, talks of DTR (define the relationship), some angst but this is me so there’s a happy ending. 

word count: 27k 

a/n: a birthday present for the one and only Jeon Jungkook, whom I love and respect so much and only wish the bestest of days for. Partly inspired by Taylor Swift’s song “invisible string” +  a love letter of sorts to my own old high school crush for whom my memory of him helped build Jungkook’s character. This also turned out way longer than I ever wanted it to be lol oops! 

update: i was actually able to do a writer’s audio tag on this fic!!! check it out if you want to hear about the behind the scenes process that went into writing this fic <3 

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When you land a job in the months following your college graduation, you feel as if you are on top of the world. How could you not? After all, the norm that follows post-college is one of disappointment and constant hunts online to find job openings for any position that could suit your background and previous work experiences. It’s a fear that plagues lots of your friends, both those in college and out. It’s the same paranoia you had in the months leading up to graduation and the few months after graduation—in which your days were measured by the boxes you packed to move out of your tiny college apartment and into an equally tiny new apartment you currently share with an old roommate of yours, as well as the days you spent hunched over your computer and scrolling through job postings. 

You had gone through more than a handful of cover letters, resume submissions, and in person interviews before finally landing the job you currently have and have been working under for a month now. 

Throughout the course of the recent month, you’ve continued to secure certain moments that solidify the confidence that you’re finally becoming an adult. Sure, a barely functioning adult who mostly still uses the microwave to heat up your frozen Mac and Cheese—but an adult nonetheless. From learning how to pay your bills online, to realizing that grocery shopping was something you needed to make a conscious effort to do, along with going to and from your nine to five job with your coffee order in hand. 

All of those things have helped you feel like you were, perhaps, finally getting your life together. 

And then you receive the invitation in the mailbox. 

It happens when you unlock your box on a bright March morning, taking out the usual round of bills and fashion magazines until your fingers lock around an envelope bigger than the normal letter size. It’s much sturdier too. 

You don’t know what to think of the letter, until you bring the damn thing back into your apartment and rip the opening. The mere sight of the content inside makes you feel like the hand of life has just taken your figurine and moved you back a good twenty squares. 

The post in your hand reads: 

WITH GREAT JOY, IRENE AND SEOKJIN REQUEST THE HONOR OF YOUR PRESENCE FOR THEIR WEDDING CELEBRATION ON THE DAY OF MAY 25TH. COCKTAILS, DINNER, AND DANCING TO FOLLOW. 

There’s a date at the bottom of the invitation. As you line the date up with your calendar, you realize that you have a week to RSVP to the event. 

You toss the envelope onto the counter in the kitchen just to glare at the cardstock, maybe to convince yourself this is a dream or at least convince yourself that it’s normal for your friend from college to be getting married even when you have yet to land a successful relationship of your own. 

You aren’t as close with Irene as you used to be, but the memory of your friendship is still at the forefront of your mind. The pair of you met during your final year of university, when you were assigned to work together for one of your many senior projects and immediately clicked. The months you spent in her apartment and vice versa pulling out all-nighters in desperate attempts to finish your project definitely earns you an invitation. At the very least, you are happy to see that Irene: bright and smart and funny, is getting married. 

Not only that, but getting married to Seokjin. He’s a year older than you and Irene, but those two met when he was still enrolled and have been inseparable ever since. You don’t know relationships that well, but you know them enough to recognize that Seokjin and Irene were what everyone called the ‘endgame’. In truth, it was only a matter of time before you were to receive one of these from them. 

But did she really have to one-up you like this? Not that it’s a competition. However, it does leave a funny feeling to see someone the same age as you display a much more put together handle on life. You groan at the thought.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Karly asks. 

You turn to your roommate. She’s seated at the kitchen table, books out and everywhere as she looks over at you. Karly: fellow alumni, graduated from her undergrad program early to go straight into pursuing her master’s degree. She’s a busy bee. You wave the envelope. “Irene is getting married.” 

Her eyes widen. “Ah shit, no way?” She takes the paper that you offer to her and looks over the invitation. “Damn, I knew it was only a matter of time before we started getting this stuff, but to actually see it happening…” 

You groan. “I know right!” You take the cardstock back from your friend. “It’s only been six months since we graduated, how could she be getting married already?” 

“Well, Irene did have a job lined up for her right after graduation,” Karly points out thoughtfully. She sees the look of bewilderment you give her. “What? It was on her Instagram.” 

You pout. “Of course Irene would have a job lined up like that.” You run a hand through your hair. “I mean, that’s good for her. Really good, actually…” 

Karly jerks her chin towards the envelope still in your hand. “So, are you planning to go?” 

“I don’t know, do you have plans that day?” You wave the paper. “I’m allowed a plus one.” 

Your roommate cracks a smile. “Are you asking me out? A little forward of you, we’ve been friends for so long…” 

You whine, shaking the paper and little more frantically. “Karly, this is important! I don’t want to go alone, I won’t know anyone!” 

She laughs. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. What was the date again?” 

You provide the date to her. You approach Karly’s place at the kitchen table and watch as she opens the calendar on her laptop. Immediately, you are overwhelmed by all the deadlines she’s got under practicality every date on the screen. Yet, a “wow” is the only thing you can say at the sight. 

Karly smiles, sparing you a glance over her shoulder. “One of the joys of being a grad student slash T.A. slash research assistant.” She scrolls down into May, and narrows her eyes upon May 25th. Underneath the date is an event—color coated to bright orange and typed out in all caps. CONFERENCE WITH PROFESSOR WONG. “Oh crap, I have a conference that day.” 

“No…” You whine some more, trailing off as you grab Karly by the shoulders and begin shaking. “Karly! You’ve left me out for the bears! What am I supposed to do?” 

Karly laughs as she lets herself be manhandled in this way. “I don’t know! Go and deepen your social life or something.” 

You stop shaking her and glare instead. “Is that a joke?” 

“What do you expect me to say?” She retorts, appalled by your answer. “Then don’t go.” 

You whine again. “But this is Irene, and I’ll feel bad for not going and congratulating her!” 

“Then go!” 

“But I don’t have a plus one!” 

Karly places her hands at her temples. “Oh my god, this is like the circle of stupidity with you. Then find a plus one! Or just don’t go!” She whirls around to face you. “I will help you find a dress if you decide to go. I will also sit with you on the couch and eat popcorn with you if you decide not to go.” 

You continue to pout, knowing that you deserve that gentle attempt at a lecture but still not liking the reason why you needed such a talking to. 

“Fine,” You eventually decide to say, sliding into the seat next to Karly and leaning forward to plant your entire upper body on the table. 

Karly laughs at your defeated posture. “Well, you have the rest of the week to make your decision.” 

She has a point. That doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

.

For the rest of the week the decision of whether or not you should attend the wedding becomes a weight in your mind. You spend the next few days pondering it, thinking over the pros and the cons. 

As overdramatic as it is, you think about it during work, when you’re partaking in your home workout routines, and even when you’re about to fall asleep. You do want to go, you really do. It’ll be the first time you attend a wedding that didn’t involve a relative, which feels like a big deal in your adult agenda mindset. And Irene is someone you wouldn’t mind spending an evening with to catch up. 

However, you wouldn’t get to spend the evening with Irene—after all, a wedding implies that she would likely be mingling with all of her guests and you would just be another attendee forced to find other means of entertainment. That’s where the plus one comes in handy. Except you don’t have a plus one. A slight problem. 

You sigh. Work is a little slow today, as you are also experiencing the afternoon slump in which your mind drifts away more often than usual. You find yourself with a small laundry list of tasks (such as emailing companies, working on drafts for releases, and trying to set up different appointments) but without the motivation to do those things right away. Because of that, your afternoon slump takes the form of opening airline services to find information and prices about flying to Irene’s wedding. It’s in her hometown, about a five hour flight time from here to there. 

You click on the various boxes that require information, finally allowing a search. As the search goes through, your eyes take in all the prices—both the amount to get there and to get back—and your lips part slightly at the totaling numbers. 

“Five hundred dollars?” You mutter to yourself. You’re not sure how this would work with budgeting, but you’re still trying to figure out how to balance the cost of AC, the internet, and how to eat appropriate meals at least once a day. You don’t have five hundred dollars to spend on an airplane ticket. A slightly bigger problem. 

You sigh again, resting your elbow on the desk and your chin in the palm as your eyes continue to scroll through the website. 

Behind you, fingers curl around the top of your cubicle. There is a silence between the two of you: him, merely observing, and you, completely oblivious, until he clears his throat. 

You jump, having not expected to be interrupted like this. A squeak leaves the back of your throat as you whirl around to see who is visiting you. “Jimin!” You exclaim, taking in the boy now perched along the wall of your cubicle. This is before you narrow your eyes. “Asshole, you scared me!” 

If you just started working here and learned that you’d be cursing out Park Jimin for startling you, that past version of yourself might have turned red, shocked, and nervous at the thought. A month ago, Jimin was that coworker—as friendly as friendly people come by. With his pretty eyes, perfectly soft pink lips, and freshly dyed brown hair, you had been immediately taken by his charm and helpful nature. 

Then the month went by, and you realized there were no romantic intentions on either end. Jimin then became your first friend in your new job. Albeit, he’s a nosy friend who enjoys asking questions and dragging you out to nearby bars and coming over occasionally with take-out, but a friend nonetheless. 

“Sorry!” Jimin says back, then he glares at you. “What are you doing over here anyways?” 

You shake your head. “What do you mean?” 

“What do you mean what do I mean? You’ve been sighing all afternoon.” Jimin pulls out a slip of paper from behind his back. “Fifty times in the last hour, I swear to god.” 

You straighten out of your seat to get a better look at the paper, unamused to find fifty tally marks across the surface. “You’re lying, there’s no way that I sighed fifty times in an hour.” 

“Of course you wouldn’t know, you’re the one doing all the sighing!” Jimin retorts, lowering his hand with the paper. “Is something up with you? Did something happen?” His eyes flicker to the monitor screen behind you and he frowns. “What the fuck? Are you moving away already?” 

You blink. “What?” 

He jerks his chin towards the computer. “You’re looking at flight prices.” 

“Huh?” You turn around, having completely forgotten about your previous predicament in light of discovering that Jimin counts your sighs. “Oh! No…” 

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “No, you’re not looking at flight prices?” 

You slide back into your chair, a silent invitation for Jimin to step further into your cubicle. You sigh again, and he holds the paper back up. Taking a pencil out of his pocket, he makes another mark. You look over at him upon hearing the pencil scratch and scowl. “Give me that!” You grab the paper from his hand. “I’m dealing with a crisis right now, don’t count my sighs!”

“Alright! Alright!” Jimin slides behind you and leans forward to get a better look at your computer screen. “So where are you moving to this time?” 

You press your lips together. “I’m not moving away. A friend of mine from college is getting married. I’m just trying to see how expensive it would be to fly over there.” 

He whistles at the five hundred dollar price in your cart. “That’s pretty expensive.” 

“I know!” You groan, throwing yourself further back into your chair. “I wouldn’t mind going, but I don’t have a plus one. And as you can see, flying there would be a challenge on my wallet.” 

Jimin hums at that. “Well, regarding your plus one problem, I wouldn’t mind going with you.” 

You turn to look at him. “Really? You’d go across the country and endure an entire evening with your coworker and her old college classmates?” 

He shrugs. “If you’re desperate, I’ll keep my offer around.” He actually pouts this time. “Are you implying that you see me more as a coworker than a friend? After all the times we’ve hung out outside of work!” 

Your eyes widen slightly, having not thought of that. “No, no, Jimin, I mean—yes, I do see you as a friend now but we met as coworkers so I just think of you as a coworker first—!” You’re rambling. 

Jimin interrupts by patting your shoulder, the corner of his lips quirked up into a smile. “I’m just messing with you.” 

You shake your head again. “Asshole,” You grumble, returning your attention back to your computer. 

Jimin is still mid-laughter behind you. “Anyways, yeah, like I said. If you’re desperate to go, I wouldn’t mind going with you. But deciding how to get there is a different question entirely.” 

You turn to glare at your friend for a moment. “I’ll let you know.” 

He nods, before his lips part and he’s snapping his fingers. “Oh yeah! I wanted to ask you something.” 

He backs up, allowing you enough space to turn around fully and face him. “Okay, what’s up?” 

Jimin grins, lifting his leg up to nudge your chair slightly. “I’m going out tonight—you should come with.” 

You don’t even give this a second thought. Your lips turn into a downwards curl as you shake your head. “Nope.” 

Jimin looks appalled. “Why not? Didn’t you have fun the last time we went out?” 

“If ‘fun’ to you is trying to drag your drunk ass home and staying the night to make sure you wouldn’t choke on your vomit…” You grumble, trying not to shudder at the memory. It has only been a few days since that ‘fun’ time. 

“I told you that sometimes I overestimate my abilities, and I already apologized for that,” Jimin points out, although he does have the decency to look guilty for that mess. He perks up again. “But this’ll be different, I promise. I’m meeting up with some friends and we’re just gonna catch up. It’s at one of the quieter bars uptown: no loud DJ, no bright lights, no bottomless rum and coke. Promise. It’ll just be a lot of socializing.” He watches you hesitantly. Socializing has never been your strong suit. “And finger food.” 

The mention of food does make you look up towards him—your first sign of interest towards something. However, another thought weighs you down. “Are you sure you even want me to go?” You ask after a moment. “I mean, this is a catch up with friends. Wouldn’t I be intruding?” 

“Not at all!” Jimin brushes off, waving away your concern with his hand. “I told you, it’s a socializing thing. Besides, my friends are always bringing someone along. They were asking me when I’d have a friend tag along, so I thought you’d be a good selection.” He notices you still frowning. “C’mon! It’ll be fun. When I’m not vomiting over your shoes, I’m good company. And I promise I won’t be vomiting this time.” 

You stare at Jimin for a moment longer, contemplating his words. This is very true. Jimin is an ideal friend to have during social gatherings—he’s good at keeping a conversation going so you don’t have to shoulder the weight alone, he’s good at reading when you’re in a good mood and when you’re ready to go home, and he’s excellent at keeping unwanted attention away. You know this. Jimin knows that you know this. 

It takes one curl of your lips for Jimin to grin, knowing that he has convinced you. “Okay!” He says, finalizing the decision without having to hear the actual answer from you. He pats your knee. “We’ll take the subway after work, it’s just a few stops down.” 

If your mind conjures up any second thoughts, Jimin leaves before you are able to express them. 

.

True to Jimin’s word, the pair of you step into a subway heading westbound as soon as you’re finished with work. It’s much later in the day now, the afternoon sun has changed into a night sky with a chill spring breeze to match. The carts are filled with the evening crowd of adults, all done with another day of work and finding enjoyment for the rest of today by returning home or seeing friends. It’s a rarity that you would fall under that latter category, but the thought makes you excited nonetheless. 

“Alright, so you wanna tell me a little bit about these friends that I’m seeing tonight?” You ask, gripping the handlebar above you but leaning towards Jimin so he can hear what you’re saying over the noise of the subway speeding down the tracks. 

Jimin grins. “They’re just some friends I grew up with. We like to get together once a month to catch up and hang out, since everyone is so busy with their own lives.” 

You smile back. “That’s actually really sweet of you guys, to plan hangouts once a month.” 

He lightly flicks your forehead. “Hey, are you saying I’m normally not very sweet?” 

“Well, not right now!” You protest, hand over your forehead. “That hurt.” 

“You’re being a baby!” Jimin retorts back. 

The pair of you continue to bicker like this until your stop is announced over the intercom. Jimin halts the further insults being thrown at each other as he gestures towards the approaching station, as seen through the window of the subway. 

“This is our stop,” Jimin says to you, allowing you to step out onto the platform first. He joins behind you right after, leading the way as the subway’s three chimes signal the closing of the doors. There’s a breeze that follows, running through your hair and clothes as the subway zooms away to its next stop. The station itself is crowded, filled with groups of friends and individuals carrying on with the rest of their evening, overall looking so lively and you can feel yourself feeding off their energy. 

With a gesture pointing up the stairs that’ll take the pair of you to ground level, Jimin leads the way. You make your way through people, following Jimin’s guide until you’re both exiting the station and entering the world of your new stop. It’s another area of the city you work in, so the change in scenery isn’t too dramatic—but it’s a place more catered towards restaurants, shopping areas, and hang-out sections. The bright neon signs protrude out from the building, flashing the various products or services the specific building offered: from manicure care to corner ramen shops. 

“C’mon, let’s hurry!” Jimin calls back to you, picking his pace up slightly. He’s not running, but his long legs make it harder for you to keep up. “Everyone is already there.” 

The pair of you continue to pace down the sidewalk, past the crowds of people waiting to eat, people lingering outside of clothing stores. Finally, Jimin slows down near a restaurant. He looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still behind him, before entering the establishment. He mentions something about knowing where their seats are, before continuing deeper into the restaurant. 

As you look around, the place does look like a restaurant slash bar—not as crazy as some of the bars Jimin takes you with the intention of actually getting drunk, but there’s still a bar here and there’s still alcohol being shared heavily. It’s the same demographic of early 20s, young adults with friends, but there are actual tables and chairs and booths set up like a restaurant. So you suppose Jimin hadn’t been lying to you about this. 

“There they are!” Jimin says to you, as you look up and follow Jimin’s finger to the table in the far corner that is completely filled with the exception of two seats. You vaguely make out the back of some heads, most belonging to boys, before your eyes land on one of the boys facing you and Jimin. He’s sitting at the far end of the table, currently laughing brightly at something one of the boys at the table has said. For all intents and purposes, the boy is cute. Extremely cute. When he laughs, his eyes and nose crinkle and his lips spread into a wild smile—and brings out the dimple on his cheek. He looks like the embodiment of all your ideal types mashed into a singular being. 

All of those things. Yet, that is not the reason why you are staring. None of those things come close to why you stop dead in your tracks, why your heart drops in your chest, why your eyes widen. Even with the shitty lighting in this restaurant, you are one hundred percent positive. “Jimin!” You manage to choke out, having enough well power to grab onto his hand seconds before he is able to make himself and yourself known to his friends. 

He whirls around, wide-eyed and curious and worried. “What? Is everything okay?” 

You shake your head. The room feels too small. “I think there’s something I should tell you—!” 

“Hey, is that Jimin? Jimin!” Your voice is very easily drowned out by the sound of another, much louder voice that seems to boom through the restaurant. 

Jimin turns back around in time to face one of the boys from the table who has gotten out of his seat. You are able to see him from over Jimin’s shoulder—a tall boy with messy unkempt hair and a boxy smile. Jimin greets him with a “Taehyung!” before the boys embrace. “Taehyungie,” Jimin continues afterwards, turning around so both are able to face you. “This is Y/N, she’s a coworker of mine.” 

Taehyung grins, a friendly gesture that makes you relax. But only slightly. “Y/N! It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a bit about you from Jimin. All good things, I promise.” 

“W-Well, that’s good to hear,” You manage shakily, eyes nervously darting to the boy at the end of the table, who has stopped his conversation and is now looking at you and Jimin. 

“Let me introduce you,” Jimin says, breaking your concentration as he rests a hand on your shoulder. He points right at the boy at the end of the table, who is still staring at you. His eyebrows are furrowed together. You want to bury yourself alive. “That one over there is—!” 

A lightbulb seems to go off in the boy’s head. His face breaks out into a smile as he points at you. “Hey, Y/N!” 

Jimin looks taken aback at the fact you are being recognized by someone at the table. His hand lowers as he looks over at you. 

You, however, cannot focus on Jimin. You can only focus on the boy at the end of the table, the boy currently smiling over at you with all the light in his eyes, the boy who makes the memories flash through your mind. From that, the best you can manage is a tiny smile. “Jungkook!” 

Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Where do you even begin with him? 

You met Jungkook during your second year of university. He had been an arts major (you were not) and yet, your paths crossed multiple times throughout the quarter as a result of sharing many general education classes together. You even were forced to pair up on a project for one of those aforementioned G.E. classes. Neither of you ran in the same social circle, but that didn’t change how sweet, funny, charming, endearing, easy-going, friendly, smart, and nice Jungkook was. It was very easy for him to make friends, very easy for him to go out of his way to say hi to you in the library or in class or in the cafeteria, and very easy for him to strike up a basic conversation with you. 

Because of that, it was very easy for you to fall for him—to develop a deep-rooted crush that went on for the rest of your university experience. You would use the term ‘friends’ very loosely when describing what your relationship with Jungkook had been. You had never hung out with him outside the context of school, never went out to eat with him, and never saw him again after graduation. Until now. 

Actually, ‘acquaintances’ would probably be a much more fitting term. 

“Hey, I haven’t seen you since graduation!” Jungkook is saying as he stands up from his chair and approaches you. As if on autopilot, you return the one armed hug he gives you. His smile, while still pleasant, holds a surprising tinge of shyness to it. 

“Woah, hold on a second,” Jimin interrupts, immediately pointing between Jungkook and you. “You guys know each other?” 

“Y/N and I went to university together!” Jungkook provides. 

Jimin looks like his eyes are about to fall out of his sockets. 

“We’ve known each other since second year,” Jungkook continues. He looks over at you. “I didn’t know you know Jimin.” 

“Uh…” You forget how to speak. You’re too busy looking at Jungkook as if you haven’t seen him for years. In a way, it feels like that. Seeing people from college outside of college after a graduation ceremony is like meeting them again for the first time—most of them develop a more independent look. Some look like their life is seconds from falling apart. Some look much happier without the institutional pressure to secure classes and grades and internships. Sadly for you, Jungkook falls under the latter category. Did he always have that twinkle of starlight in his eyes? 

“Y/N and I work together,” Jimin provides, seeming to realize that you weren’t going to answer Jungkook’s question. “She started working about a month ago.” 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Jungkook replies, still looking at you. It is then he seems to notice that the three of you are standing in the middle of the restaurant. Although you are not distracting any patrons, the workers probably don’t appreciate it. “How about we sit down? We’ll be able to catch up more!” 

Jimin seems to regain control of the situation quicker than you do, because he nods at Jungkook. “Let me introduce her to everyone, then we’ll join you.” You look over to where Jungkook had been sitting and immediately notice the previously empty two chairs right across from him—like fate, or something terrible like that. 

So you watch as Jungkook makes his way back to his seat, and Jimin starts to guide you around the table. He only drops a name. Surprisingly, he doesn’t linger, he merely takes you to the next person. It only takes you a second to figure out why. 

“You didn’t tell me you know Jungkook,” Jimin hisses in between the time it takes to travel in between people. 

“I didn’t know you knew Jungkook!” You hiss back. You smile and nod politely at the person Jimin introduces as Yoongi. “Seriously, you never mentioned him once!” 

Jimin only keeps his frustration for a moment before he’s introducing you to someone named Hoseok, a boy with a bright smile, the one who was making Jungkook laugh earlier. “Okay, fine,” He relents, the pair of you finally move to take your seats. “But what was that earlier?” 

“What was what?” 

“You were just staring at him! What, did you have a huge crush on him or something—?” Jimin accuses, but he stops. Just as the pair of you are about to sit down, Jimin parts his lips in realization. “Oh.” Then, he sends you an absolutely wicked grin. “Oh, okay.” 

Your eyes widen at him, murder in your eyes. “Jimin!” 

“So, Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice cuts through your little biting banter with Jimin. 

You whirl around to face Jungkook, eyes completely devoid of murder and voice several pitches higher. “Hi, Jungkook!” 

He smiles, such a wonderful little thing that makes your heart flutter in your chest. “Hi.” 

Jimin ducks his head to hide the fact that he wants nothing more than to burst into fits of laughter. 

“So how have you been?” Jungkook starts up. “I haven’t seen you since graduation. Since you landed a job, you seem to be doing well.” 

“I am!” You manage, only continuing to try and keep a handle on your heart and managing well enough this time. “There were a few months of just scrolling through job postings and writing cover letter after cover letter though.” 

Jungkook laughs, another beautiful gesture that makes you mirror his smile. “I definitely feel that.” 

“Well, what about you? What have you been up to?” You ask. “I think I saw on your Instagram and you were traveling around for a little?” 

His eyes light up at that. “Oh yeah! I don’t know if you remember Kim Mingyu from school?” You do. “Well, he and a friend of his got into some freelancing and had to do some traveling around to work on some filming. He asked me to come along because I actually have some photography experience. So that was a thing I did for a few months.” 

You nod, smiling. “No way! That’s so cool.” 

You do relax after a few conversational exchanges with Jungkook. He’s just as relaxed and mellow, yet friendly and polite as ever, and it’s easy to make conversation with him as it always has been. Eventually, you join in on the larger conversations with the whole table—touching on topics from your university experiences to tales from your new job. A lot of your role, however, falls to listening. Jimin’s friends are rowdy, funny, and out-going. They invite you in like you have been in this group for years—and are able to provide context on older memories they are revisiting. 

Most of your evening, however, is engaging in conversation with Jungkook. Occasionally, Jimin will join in, but he does spend most of his time laughing along to something his other friends are saying. Since you and Jungkook have always been friendly with each other, long conversations aren’t out of the ordinary. You just never considered how well you and Jungkook got along, how easy it would be to transition from topic to topic. 

“I am really glad that Jimin invited you along,” Jungkook explains brightly after the pair of you are done laughing following Jungkook’s tale of another fuck-ups with Kim Mingyu. “Makes you realize how small the world is.” 

“Oh, you should have seen her moping around earlier today,” Jimin interjects, choosing now of all times to insert himself back into your conversation with Jungkook. “She was sighing all afternoon—so maybe we should thank her misery that I decided to invite her along tonight.” 

Jungkook turns to you, a sympathetic look across his face. “Did you have a bad day today?” 

You try for a laugh, waving away Jimin’s words. “Jimin’s just overreacting. Actually, I found out a friend of mine from college is getting married, so I was trying to figure out my plan…” You start, trailing off as you look at Jungkook. “Wait, you didn’t know Irene, did you?” 

“I did.” His eyes widen as his lips part in realization. “Oh my god, you were invited to Irene’s wedding too?” 

“I was!” You exclaim, unsure whether you should be excited or even more nervous at the prospect of potentially seeing Jungkook at the wedding event. “Holy shit, this makes it an even smaller world. How did you know Irene?” 

Jungkook is still mid-giggle at the pure coincidence of everything. “We both knew Mingyu! This is so crazy. Are you planning to go?” 

You shrug. Jimin chooses to interject once more. “That’s what Y/N over here was sighing all afternoon over.” 

You whine as you look at Jimin. “No need to sell me out! Listen, Jungkook.” You turn back to the boy opposite of you, who is still gazing at you. “I’m sure you understand my current predicament.” 

“Sure.” 

“You know how expensive flights can be.” 

“Of course.” 

You fold your arms over each other and rest them on the table. “So, are you planning to go to the wedding?” 

He nods. “Most likely, yeah. I actually knew that the wedding was going to be happening soon, since Mingyu told me about it as soon as Irene got the ring. I ran into the flight problem pretty quickly too, so I decided to just drive to the event.” 

Jimin whistles. “Drive across the country, huh, JK? That must be a four day trip, or something.” 

“It was coming out to be,” Jungkook acknowledges with a nod. “But it’s okay.” He’s grinning, looking excited at the prospect. “I’ve never done a cross country drive before, so it was actually kind of exciting to plan the route. There are a few places I want to stop by and visit. I’m sure it’ll be fun.” Then, Jungkook turns back to you. “If you decide that flying would be too expensive, then you’re more than welcome to come along. It’ll be nice to have some company and not spend four days by myself.” 

Entirely on instinct, you start to laugh. You think he’s joking—how could you not? This is probably one of the longest conversations you’ve ever had with Jungkook. Like you’ve mentioned before, you wouldn’t consider him a friend. Why would he seriously try to invite you on a road trip?  “Yeah, I’m not too sure—I’ve never done a cross country trip before…” 

The conversation shifts pretty quickly as soon as you reply back to Jungkook. Hoseok asks you a question that drags your attention away, simultaneously allowing you to forget about Jungkook’s request. 

The end of the dinner happens soon after, when the bill has been paid and you suspect the long line of people outside waiting for a table are waiting for your party to be done. So venmo exchanges and money debts go around until each member of the table starts standing up one by one to make their move to exit the restaurant. 

You and Jimin are one of the first to leave. Goodbyes are exchanged along with the polite ‘it was nice to meet you’ phrase thrown around. Jungkook is mid-conversation with Yoongi, but he still gives you a quick hug of parting before you and Jimin exit the restaurant. 

The pair of you only make it out a few steps before there is a familiar voice calling your name. “Hey, Y/N! Y/N, wait up!” You stop and turn around, surprised to see Jungkook dashing out of the restaurant. He rests himself for a moment before he’s straightening back up to look at you. 

You try for a smile. “Hey Jungkook, what’s up?” 

He takes in a few more deep breaths to calm himself—either from the dashing he just did or to steel himself for the next question, you don’t know. “It’s about me inviting you to drive up to Irene’s wedding—I just thought I’d let you know it was a serious invitation. Having the company would be nice, and you wouldn’t be a burden to me, seriously. Besides, it’ll be fun to spend some time together.” 

“O-Oh,” You stammer, wringing your hands together. “I’m not too sure… I still have to think about it.” 

“Of course, of course,” Jungkook dismisses good naturedly. “Just thought I’d let you know, so you know that you do have options.” 

Although the offer makes you nervous, you cannot dismiss Jungkook’s thoughtfulness. You give him a more relaxed smile. “I really appreciate that Jungkook, thank you.” 

He smiles at your smile. “No problem! Actually…” He digs around for the wallet in his pocket and produces a little card. “Here’s my business card—my cell phone number is on here so just text or call if you decide to join me. Or,” He presses his lips into a more bashful smile. “You can just text me whenever for whatever reason. I just thought I’d let you know that it was good to see you again.” 

You take the card slowly, unable to look away from Jungkook’s face. He looks so genuine and shy that it doesn’t help your own racing heart. “It was good to see you too, Jungkook…” You return, albeit a little breathlessly. 

He smiles again, dimples pressing in his cheek (and your heart). He turns to Jimin “Oh yeah, nice seeing you too Park.” 

“Hey.” Jimin hits him on the shoulder. “I’m your hyung, you should show me more respect!” 

“My bad, my bad.” Jungkook doesn’t apologize though. His gaze flickers to yours one more time, gaze looking strangely hopeful. “I’ll see you guys around.” He walks backwards a few paces before turning around and returning to the restaurant. Maybe to see his other friends. 

Either way, it doesn’t matter. You are still screaming internally regardless—as shown through your red cheeks, widened eyes, and singing heart. Jimin will certainly never let you live this moment down. 

. 

Now, you are screaming externally. You don’t even give a thought or an explanation. You simply walk into your apartment, nosedive for the couch, and start yelling into one of the throw pillows. 

There’s a rapid movement of footsteps coming from down the hallway almost immediately, one that grows gradually louder until the owner of the steps starts speaking. “Who the fuck is out there? I’ve played softball my entire life and therefore will not hesitate to drive this bat so far up your ass—oh, Y/N.” The voice lowers significantly, as does the threat level it emits into the air. “It’s just you.” 

You lift your face from the throw pillow, and immediately brush away at the hair that falls in your face. “What the fuck!” You croak, pushing yourself into a sitting position and pointing at the bat in Karly’s hands. “What are you doing threatening me with a bat? You’ve never played a game of softball in your life!” 

“Oh, this isn’t mine. It’s Soonyoung’s.” Soonyoung is Karly’s boyfriend from high school, who used to play baseball on the high school team. How Karly has her boyfriend’s baseball bat is a mystery, but it’s something you think you are better off not asking about. She places the bat down on the carpet next to the coffee table. “But I should be asking you the questions, you bitch! You scared the shit out of me!” 

You sigh, throwing your head to rest on the back of the couch. “Sorry, sorry. Had a crazy day.” 

Karly ponders this as she moves to take a seat next to you. “You seemed fine when you texted me about you getting drinks with Jimin. Did something happen during the dinner?” 

You straighten up again and grip Karly by the arm. “Okay, don’t scream.” 

“You mean like you did?” Karly retorts dryly. 

You shake her. “I’m serious!” When Karly doesn’t say anything, you take it as a sign to continue with your story. “I saw Jungkook.” 

Karly blinks, then grabs your arm right back. “Wait, Jeon Jungkook, as in the guy you’ve been crushing on since second year?” 

“Yes!” You whine, throwing yourself onto the couch all over again. 

“The one you had to work together on a project with and nearly cried even though you guys just had to submit a paper?” 

“Yes!” 

“The one who said hi to you in the library that one time and you tried to put your elbow on the table afterwards but you missed and hit your head instead?” 

You pause, scowling. “Okay, now you’re just being mean. Are you done?” 

Karly is laughing. “Oh my god. What are the chances of you seeing him now?” 

“There’s more,” You groan out. 

“Really? Honestly that yell could have been just for seeing him again and that would have made sense—!” 

You ignore her. “He’s friends with Jimin. He’s friends with Irene, too. He was invited to her wedding.” 

“Wait, Jimin is friends with Irene or Jungkook is friends with Irene—?” 

“He won’t pay for the flight though. It’s too expensive. I can attest to that.” 

Karly holds a finger up, trying to connect the dots. “When did you look up flight prices—?” 

“So he invited me on a cross country road trip to Irene’s wedding.” 

Karly frowns. 

You sigh. “Jungkook invited me on a cross country road trip to Irene’s wedding.” 

“Oh! Oh!” Karly’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, that’s huge. Are you gonna go?” 

“I don’t know!” You whine. “Jungkook mentioned it would be a four day drive to get there. I don’t know if I can survive four days in a car with him! We’ve never been that close, what if it gets awkward?” 

Karly ponders this. “I really don’t think it’s in Jungkook’s nature to be awkward with someone—especially someone he’s had a history with.” She sees the look of disbelief you give her. “Well, even if that history was really limited. What makes you think it’ll be awkward? Was it awful seeing him tonight?” 

“No!” You cry, straightening into a sitting position so your legs drape over the side of the couch. You force yourself to calm down. “It… it was pretty good actually.” 

Karly raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Really now.” 

“Yeah…” You reply, trailing off. “We sat across from each other during the dinner and we talked most of the night, surprisingly. I guess because we were sort of acquaintances we’ve always known about each other, so it wasn’t like we didn’t know how to ask questions to each other. And Jungkook… he’s easy to talk to as he’s always been and he’s so nice and positive and he has a dimple on his cheek when he smiles…” You finish slowly, noticing your racing heart that has come up as a result of this conversation and of your memory. You realize the predicament you’re in, further emphasized by Karly’s growing grin. You groan. “Shut up.” 

Karly looks like a Cheshire cat. “I didn’t say anything.” 

You grab onto one of the throw pillows and properly hit her in the face. “You’re saying many things right now, you bitch!” 

Karly takes the pillow from you and proceeds to whack you in the shoulder. “Not outloud!” 

“So you admit it!” You accuse, pointing at her. 

Karly yells. “Just admit you still have a crush on him!” 

Your groan turns into a cry. “Don’t say it outloud! Now I have to deal with it!” 

Your roommate sighs. “Bitch, I can tell you exactly how to deal with this. You’re gonna go on this road trip with Jungkook and see if you guys vibe—you honestly will not find a better way to discover your compatibility with him. If it works out, then you get more than a plus one to the wedding. If it doesn’t work out, just skip the wedding and take the first flight back home. Cut off your friendship with Jimin while you’re at it—it’s the only way to ensure you’ll never have to run into Jungkook again.” 

You pout. “That seems a little dramatic.” 

Karly thinks for a second, then she nudges you. “Remind me again about that quote your high school English teacher used to always parade around.” 

You stare at her for a moment, because you know exactly what point she’s trying to make. Still, you decide to humor her. And yourself. “‘You’ll never know if you’ll sink, swim, or float, until you’re willing to take the plunge’.” You level Karly with another gaze. Your friend has a point. You missed any chance to hang out with Jungkook during your college years—partly because your friend groups never intersected, but mostly because of your internalized fear of fucking up. But now that you are just a little older and just a little more versed in the art of conversing and befriending—maybe Karly is right. Maybe this is your chance to see if a different set of timing could make a difference. 

So you sigh. 

“I guess I should text Jungkook, huh.” 

Karly pats you on the shoulder. “Take the plunge, my dude.” 

.

You do take the plunge. You take Jungkook’s business card out from the pocket of your dress and dial the number. He expresses excitement—and also relief. 

These things lead up to the current moment. Eight o’clock in the morning: you lingering in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, your suitcase by the door, and a roommate keeping you company. 

You don’t realize how nervous you are until you get a text from Jungkook. 

Jungkook (8:03am): i’m here! u can buzz me up so i can help u with your stuff :) 

You (8:03am): it’s ok jungkook it’s just a suitcase. i’ll be down in a second! 

You pocket your phone, and Karly can read the expression across your face before you realize what is going on. She straightens up. “He’s here?” 

“Yeah.” You rinse your coffee cup and make your way towards the door. “Did you want to come down with me?” 

Karly stops and gives you a look. “I thought that was already implied.” 

“Well, thanks, that’s really nice—!” 

“Someone has to give you an embarrassing goodbye.” 

“There it is.” You sigh. You don’t say anything as you and Karly exit the apartment and make your way down the hall into the elevator. It only takes a few seconds for the elevator to lower down to the ground floor, where you and Karly exit and make your way to the front of the apartment complex. 

You swear your heart beats just a little faster as soon as you see Jungkook near the front entrance of the building. He’s wearing a pair of black jackets with an oversized denim jacket and currently looking down at his phone—overall appearing so tall and pretty and otherworldly. For a brief second, you are taken by the fact that for the next four days, he’ll be yours. 

Jungkook looks up as soon as he hears the door opening and he smiles. “Hey you.” 

You smile, albeit a little lopsided and dreamy. “Hi.” 

Jungkook walks towards you immediately. “Here, let me help you with that.” He reaches a hand out and gently takes the handle of your suitcase before you can say anything. Just as he’s taking the suitcase from you, Karly emerges from the building. “Oh, sorry about that.” 

Karly waves him off. “Don’t be. I’m Y/N’s roommate—I’m just here to see her off.” 

Jungkook stares at her for a moment, then he snaps his fingers. “Wait, I remember you. You went to college with us too.” He jerks his chin towards you. “You hung out with Y/N a lot, right?” 

“Yeah, I’m Karly.” She holds out her hand for Jungkook to shake. “And you’re right, she and I hung out a lot. We were roommates back then too.” 

Jungkook nods in understanding, before shoving his hand into his pocket. His other hand is still holding onto your suitcase. “Well, I promise to take good care of Y/N.” 

Karly smacks her teeth against the side of her mouth as she points at him. “You’re a good man, Jungkook.” She pauses for a moment, seeming to contemplate a new thought. You recognize the look immediately, and your fingers twitch as if you want to strangle her. Or at least let her know you’re throwing her a look of murderous intent. But of course, Karly doesn’t see it. And even if she had, you doubt she’d care. “But no funny business, alright.” 

You gape at her. “Karly!” 

Jungkook coughs at that. “I-It’s just a drive—y-you don’t need to worry about that.” He does, however, turn away to hide the red that dusts his cheeks. 

As soon as Jungkook’s back is facing you, you whirl around to shoot Karly with a glare. “Karly, you’re lucky I’m leaving for the next four days or I would not hesitate to figure out how to make stuffocation look like an accident!” You hiss out between teeth without taking a breath. 

Karly glares right back. “You’re really dumb, aren’t you? The fact that he recognizes me because he saw you hanging out with me on campus doesn’t strike any chords? Even though, like you said, you guys weren’t really friends?” 

You blink. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

Karly widens her eyes. “What the fuck do you mean? Are you dumb with all the boys or just Jungkook?” 

“What do you mean!” You snap back. 

“So, Y/N, ready to go?” 

You whirl back around to find Jungkook now standing in front of you and Karly. He must have finished packing your suitcase in the trunk of his car and is now looking over at you with a tilt in his head. 

So you force a smile. “Of course,” You say, turning to Karly. “I was just saying bye to my roommate.” 

He nods in understanding, sparing one more glance at Karly before seeming to decide against it because he looks away. He’s still a little red at Karly’s previous comment. “We should get going then.” 

“Sure.” You look over at your roommate. “See you, bitch.” 

Karly waves back, grinning wildly. You just know she has several other thoughts she’d like to share with you, but has probably deemed you embarrassed enough. Lucky for you, she keeps her mouth shut. 

Unlucky for you, without Karly to be a barrier of distraction, this leaves you alone with Jungkook. You slide into the passenger seat of his car, still not yet processing the weight of what you’ve just agreed to. You fiddle alone for a second before Jungkook is opening the driver’s side and shifting into his seat. 

There is a silence as Jungkook is starting the car, and a part of you wants to die. Or at least have the ground swallow you whole. Holy fuck, what did you just sign up for? 

Your mind somehow takes five seconds to turn into complete shambles that you almost miss Jungkook’s question. 

“Here, I’m giving you an important mission,” Jungkook says, rummaging through the various chords that lay over the center console before producing an aux cord. “Should you choose to accept.” 

He’s got on such a serious expression you momentarily forget about your anxiety. His usage of the iconic line from Mission Impossible makes you laugh—a breathy sort of noise that escapes when your mind is too full. You still take the aux cord. “Oh my god—ever heard of bluetooth?” 

He pouts. “It hasn’t even been five minutes and you’re already insulting my beautiful Celia!” 

You raise both your eyebrows. “Celia?” 

“Yeah, that’s the name of my car.” He catches the bewildered look you give him before angling himself back to face the steering wheel, where he shifts his console into drive and makes a turn onto the main street. “If you’re already weirded out by the fact I have a name for my baby, then you’re in for a very long four days, Miss. Y/N.” 

You giggle, feeling that distraction of nerves start to come off your shoulders. “Not weird at all.” You pause. “Ryan is the name of my car.” 

“Ah!” He holds one arm out in a grand gesture. “You see, not so strange after all.” He steals a glance at you, watching as you’re about to connect your phone to the aux cord. “Wait!” He says, pointing a finger at you. 

You look up at him, wide eyes. 

He’s still holding an arm up. “How’s your music taste?” 

You’re still giving him your surprised expression. “You scared me!” 

He laughs, returning his hand back to the steering wheel. “Sorry, sorry. I have to ask though—I’d rather know now than later, so I can kick you out and not feel as bad about it.” 

Your laughter seems to melt away the last of your nervous energy. “Nice to know you’re putting all your cards out now.” You look down at your phone. “Regarding my music taste… it’s whatever you want dude! I have some lo-fi on here, some pop, alternative, Broadway, anime openings… an ‘everything’ playlist. Honestly, the world is your oyster.” 

“How about we start with your ‘everything’ playlist,” Jungkook suggests. “That way I can judge you immediately.” 

“Were you always this charming, Jeon Jungkook?” You retort. “Or has graduation changed you?” 

“Oh, I’ve always been this charming—you just never noticed.” 

That comment, however, goes over your head as you focus down on your playlist. You look over, selecting the shuffle option as Taylor Swift’s soft music from her newest album fills the air. Another silence fills the car, but it’s much more peaceful and comfortable. You allow yourself to settle further into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car. 

“So,” You start after a moment. Jungkook hums to let you know he’s paying attention. “What inspired the name Celia?” 

Jungkook brightens at the question. “She was this character from a book I read when I was younger. The Night Circus? Anyways, the book is about these two illusionists who try to one up each other with their skills of magic, but they end up falling in love. Celia is the name of one of those illusionists.” 

You grin. “Sounds like a very cute crush.” 

Jungkook grins back. 

The drive out of the city continues like this. The pair of you cover the topic of books, of music, of your favorite animes. Jungkook just has this magical power of ensuring the tension dissipates from your mind and stays gone—whether it’s through his relaxed nature or easy-going teasing or his ability to ease the conversation from one topic to the next. It feels like every conversation you and Jungkook had in college, whether vague or circling around classes, all have led up to this moment. It seems like everytime you or Jungkook run out of things to talk about pertaining to a certain topic, you would bring up memories from college and just continue from there. Everything feels natural. 

It continues to feel natural even as you and Jungkook slowly start to see the edges of the city landscape fade away. The high rises fade into shorter buildings and smaller business areas that surround the bustling city scene. You watch as those buildings and business areas become rows of houses. Residential areas in the suburbs, passing by the occasional school or corner restaurants. 

“Before we enter the wide unknown,” Jungkook starts up, breaking the quiet that has enveloped the car. “You want to pick up lunch? You hungry?” 

You haven’t even realized how much time has gone by until you look at the clock on Jungkook’s dashboard and notice that it’s past noon. You widen your eyes at the sight. “Wow, I didn’t even realize so much time had passed.” 

“Yeah, we drove through a few cities. Time flies when you’re having fun, huh?” 

“You wish,” You tease, sticking your tongue out. “So, what, do we stop at a Cheesecake factory or something?” 

Jungkook blinks. “I thought you were poor—why would we stop at the Cheesecake factory? And why is that the first restaurant that comes to your mind?” 

You wave your hands. “It was just a suggestion!” 

“Well, I’m realizing that I should probably let you know that the motel I picked for us to drive to tonight is pretty far out—Google Maps says we probably won’t get there until midnight, and that’s with us driving straight through.” 

“Midnight? Fuck, Jungkook. Will we make it to the wedding a day early or something?” 

“Ha, ha, no. I’ll go over the schedule I planned out tomorrow. Basically, I want to try and cover most of our ground on the first day so we can take the rest of the trip easy. But I thought I’d let you know now that sitting in a restaurant probably won’t be the most time responsible idea.” 

“That’s true.” You look out the window again and see the golden arches of McDonalds appear within your line of sight. “Let’s just stop at McDonalds.” 

Jungkook follows your gaze. “Alright, down. Let’s do it.” 

He exits off the freeway, following down a route that takes him almost immediately towards the McDonalds parking lot. Since this restaurant is still within the lines of the city, it’s not completely deserted. There are a few cars in the parking lot, even fewer cars in the drive-through line. Because of this, ordering the food only takes a few minutes. Both of you get chicken nuggets, sodas, and large orders of french fries. 

“You know, we’re really living like kings,” You comment as Jungkook drives out and makes his way back onto the freeway. “College graduates, both somehow able to secure a job, and still ordering chicken mcnuggets.” 

Jungkook shrugs. “I wasn’t told this is what adulthood would be like. But I’m not complaining. My 10-year-old self is singing in so much joy right now.” He says this as he’s stuffing a handful of fries into your mouth. You laugh, and hand him a napkin. 

You turn the music back on. The pair of you silently munch on your chicken nuggets, as you angle your head towards the side window once again. As Jungkook drives, the numbers of structural spaces become more scattered the longer you both continue down the freeway. 

The anime opening to Haikyuu starts playing when you turn back to Jungkook and realize that he’s trying to close the box of his chicken nuggets. You move right away, taking the cardboard from him and closing it yourself. “Let me know if you need anything, Jungkook. Think of me as your co-pilot.” 

He laughs gently. “Is that the rule of the passenger seat?” 

You shrug, putting the empty box into the McDonalds bag near your feet. “For me at least. Everytime I do one of these drives with family, the person in the passenger seat has to open the snacks, make conversation, and always stay awake with the driver. It’s just courtesy.”

Jungkook is smiling softly now, mostly to himself, but it lights the corners of his eyes that makes you momentarily unable to look away. “You wanna tell me about your family?” 

So you do. Your voice becomes softer as you continue, but Jungkook listens to every single word you say. 

True to his observation, it’s not long before the pair of you are surrounded by the wide unknown. Houses in the suburbs become farmhouses and farms. Conversations fade from your family to another comfortable silence as you continue gazing out the window. Jungkook requests your lo-fi playlist at some point, filling the car with the soft and distorted hums. It allows your mind to wander as you stare out the window. The empty stretches of land around you are filled with greenery, with mountains, cutting right through the perfect blue of the sky above you. 

By 4:00PM, your entire body is starting to feel the ache of having been seated for long hours on end. You feel the tightness in the muscles of your thigh, the bones in your knees. 

Jungkook must be feeling the same, because as soon as a sign for a rest stop comes on, he exits the freeway and pulls into a large parking lot. There’s a restroom on the side, but the area is surrounded by trees with mountains standing in the background. 

Jungkook stops the car. “We should get out for a bit to move our legs.” 

You’re already tugging on the latch that’ll open the car door. “I’m already feeling it in my knees.” You open the door and immediately extend your legs out onto the solid ground beneath you. You let out a sigh of satisfaction, and Jungkook laughs from next to you. 

He’s opening his own car door soon after, but he straightens up into a standing position pretty quickly and stretches upwards. He closes the car door behind him, watching as you eventually pull yourself together to do the same. 

You turn to face Jungkook. “I’m gonna use the restroom.” You gesture towards the building and earn a nod from Jungkook, who mentions something about doing the same thing. You meet back at the car a few minutes later. 

Jungkook gestures to the trees surrounding the parking lot. “Want to take a walk around the area? Keep the blood flowing to our legs.” 

You nod. “That sounds like a good idea.” 

“Why don’t you get started. I’ll catch up.” Jungkook watches you leave, before opening the trunk of his car and rummaging around. 

He does catch up with you, quickly enough that you hardly notice that he had sent you out first. You hear his footsteps, and the call of your name. You turn around. “Jungkook!” 

The sight before you makes you waver slightly, as bouts of shyness overtake you. Standing before you is Jungkook, with his camera in hand. The lens is pointed right at you. As soon as you’re staring straight into the camera, Jungkook grins. “Say hi!” 

You whine, whirling back around and covering your face. “Are you filming me right now?” 

“I’m a photographer at heart, what did you expect?” Jungkook teases back. “Besides, it’s really pretty around here. You think I won’t film it?” 

You snort, starting your walk around the parking lot. “Oh yeah, because there aren’t any parking lots and trees and bathroom stops at home.” 

Jungkook is quiet for a second. “That’s not what I meant.” 

You turn to stare right into the lens of his camera. “Then the mountains, right?” 

He’s quiet for another second. “Sure.” He does, however, sound a little disappointed. You do not notice this. 

The pair of you stay quiet as you make your round around the parking lot, taking in the mountains from different angles. The walk around is mostly just to rid of the sensation of your legs falling off, but it’s still a nice view to admire. As soon as you finish a complete round, you and Jungkook return back to the car. You watch as he carefully places his camera into his camera bag before you’re both back in your seats. 

Jungkook turns to you. “Ready to get going again?” He looks at the control panel behind his steering wheel. “We’ll probably have to stop for gas in a few hours. But after that, it’s straight to the hotel.” 

You settle back into the passenger seat. “I guess we already have our dinner plans then.” You’re referring to the gas station. 

Jungkook grins. “I’m down for that.” 

And so, the trip continues back on the freeway. With the lo-fi playing in the background, you watch as the sun tears through the blue sky, as the sun finally begins it’s dip to the other side. The singular color once spread across the pane of atmosphere now conjugates around the sun crawling behind the mountain—creating a diffusion of new colors. The corner of the mountain emits an explosion of oranges, pinks, and purples. 

You lift your head from the window, eyes taking in the rainbow of pastels around the now fading sun. “Wow, Jungkook, look at that sunset.” 

He snorts. “You wanna talk about things that you can’t see back in the city?” 

You pout. “But it looks so pretty, see!” You keep gesturing towards the sunset. 

Jungkook relents just enough to spare a glance in the direction. He hums. “Yeah, it’s pretty.” He looks back at the road. “Can’t really find a view like that in the city.” 

You spend a little more time admiring the sunset than Jungkook does, for obvious reasons. You’ve seen a sunset plenty of times before in the past, but the context of this whole situation makes you unable to look away from it. You’re really out here, stuck in a car with someone you have never hung out with for longer than a few minutes. But you are enjoying yourself. There's peace in that. 

So you watch until the sun dips below the mountain, momentarily leaving the sky in a navy color. 

The next time Jungkook speaks, the area around you is much darker, and the sky is nearly black. “You hungry now?” 

You lift your head from the seat, not even realizing you were drifting off. You’re thinking about Irene, wondering if you should have texted her directly congratulating her on the wedding rather than just simply sending in the RSVP. “Sure. We eat as the car eats, right?” 

Jungkook smiles, a gesture you can barely make out from the headlines. “Of course.” 

This goes on for a few more miles until the sign for a gas station comes up. A few other cars linger near the dispensers. Jungkook parks near his choice and gets out of the car. You follow behind him. He’s already sliding his credit card into the machine, and the sight makes you reach over to grab his wrist. 

“I should pay, you’ve been driving all day!” 

He shakes his head, waving you off. “We’ll take turns, okay?” He looks at you. “Buy me dinner tonight too, that sound fair?” 

You pout, leaning back as you cross your arms. “Not really, but I guess I’ll have to accept it.” 

He grins. “You are correct.” 

As soon as the gas pump alerts you of the filled tank, Jungkook returns the pump back to the machine and locks his car. Together, the two of you make your way towards the convenience store, where the bell above rings to alert the workers of your presence. Nods are exchanged as you and Jungkook tear through the aisles to find anything that could satisfy your cravings. You return back with family size bags of hot cheetos and beef jerky, while Jungkook holds his selection of roasted seaweed and Doritos. You select your drinks together before returning to the cashier. 

It’s nearing 9:00PM as you and Jungkook return back to his car, where you slide back into your seats and immediately tear into your bags of salt and sodium. 

“How are you doing?” You ask as Jungkook finishes his first bag of roasted seaweed. 

Jungkook pulls out his phone, scrolling through the final stretch needed to reach the hotel. “Yeah, about four more hours to the motel.” He looks over at you. “I’m good. The salt in this seaweed really helps. How are you doing?” 

You nod immediately. “Great. Perfect.” 

He smiles, shifting his console to drive and pulling out of the gas station. “I’m used to these weird hours. Remember how I told you I traveled around a bit with Mingyu and Wonwoo? There was this one day we only slept for an hour or something? It sucked, I think I almost passed out that day. But yeah, this is honestly not even that bad.” He turns to look at you. “I think the good company helps, too.” 

You roll your eyes, grinning. “You flatter me, Jeon.” 

Slowly, 8PM turns into 10PM. One glance at Google maps tells you that you’re still two hours from the hotel. Even though you’re not the one driving, and although you haven’t endured any physical activity that could result in this exhaustion, you still find yourself growing tired. Something about sitting under the sun, sitting in a vehicle that rocks side to side with a consistent hum—it makes your mind work slowly and therefore brings out the sleepiness quicker. 

You settle deeper into your seat. 

Jungkook giggles from next to you. “You tired already?” 

You pout slowly, eyes closed just enough. “I’m not a morning person and you made me wake up at 8!” 

“Sure, sure, of course.” 

There’s a pause. 

You ponder a question for a moment. It’s something that you would never dare ask Jungkook if you had been more awake and more alert. But you’re tired, and your defenses are lowered, and it means you are more prone to asking questions. “Hey, Jungkook? Did you have any girlfriends when we were in college?” 

Jungkook doesn’t answer immediately. “Where’s this coming from?” He asks instead. 

You shrug, making a dismissive noise as your shoulders rise up. “Curiosity.” 

A pause. “I went on a few dates, but I never had a serious relationship.” 

“No way.” You lift your head up from the seat. “But I remember seeing you hang out with the occasional girl in the quad, or at some restaurants around the school.” 

Jungkook smiles. It’s hard to read the look in his eyes. They’re focused on the road in front of him, but they seem almost hazy and faraway. “Like I said, I went on a few dates. I did really want to get into a long term relationship in college. A lot of my friends had them, that’s where my parents met, so I was really open to the idea of at least experimenting. There were a lot of girls that I thought were nice, easy-going, or just really pretty, so I tried my hand in the whole dating thing.” 

“And it didn’t work out?” You coax out gently. 

“Not really,” He continues. He steals a glance at you. “We’d go on a few dates, but none of them ever felt substantial. I think girls see me and have a certain expectation—an expectation I couldn’t meet. So I never could picture myself in a long term relationship with any of them.” 

You tilt your head towards him. “There must have been someone…” 

“Well… there was one girl.” Jungkook starts after a moment. He’s not looking at you this time. “We had a few classes together earlier—we weren’t in the same major program. I don’t even know if I’d say we were close or anything. We just had a few classes and saw each other around on occasion. But the conversations we did have during class or outside of class just felt more real. Honestly, I could have been totally wrong about her. I could have just been blinded by all these expectations I was putting on her, which is ironic. But she was the only person I could actually see myself being in a long term relationship with. Or at least try.” 

You hum, still facing towards him in your seat. “Why didn’t you try anything then? You’re a good guy, Jungkook. I’m sure she would have wanted to try with you too.” 

“I guess I was just afraid of pushing it and scaring her off. I thought it was better to stay friends with her than try to pursue something. She never gave me an indication that she felt the same.” 

“And how do you feel now?” 

There’s a pause this time. “I don’t know honestly. We remained friends up until graduation but, uh, never saw her again. I do wonder from time to time how she’s doing.” 

“You should reach out to her,” You advise softly. “Since you guys were friends before, I’m sure asking her out just to catch up won’t seem so weird.” You grin at him. “You need to make your move.” 

It is then that Jungkook turns to look at you. He looks for a little longer this time, eyes focused entirely on you. Underneath the small crescent of the moon above, you are still able to make out his facial features. His cheeks, his nose, his eyes—the latter is glimmering, like he knows something that you don’t. 

“I’m working on that,” He mumbles softly. You turn your head back towards the road. 

. 

You wake up the next morning feeling groggy, dirty, and messy. Your head lifts up from a pillow you can only vaguely remember falling on, laying on top of a bed you only vaguely remember throwing yourself in. There’s sunlight pouring into the room, but it feels like early morning sun. There’s a crisp in the air that you can feel, that you see out of the window. Right outside is the gathering of bushes and trees, a bright blue sky.

You are in the motel. 

Slowly, you push yourself into a sitting position, until you’re resting atop the white linen of your bed. Across the room, snuggled in his own twin bed, is Jungkook. His lashes are fanning across his cheekbones, his lips are parted, and his breathing is slow and soft.

It isn’t until Jungkook shifts in bed that you realize you’ve been watching him like a creep. Hastily, you tear your gaze away and decide to focus your gaze down. You notice immediately that you are not underneath the blankets. Instead, you are lying underneath Jungkook’s jacket. 

You roll the jacket off your frame, discovering that you are still in last night’s clothes—which explains why you were feeling so groggy and discombobulated. You look across the floor of the hotel room. Your suitcase is near the foot of your bed, and your phone sits on your nightstand connected to your charger. 

Vaguely, you recall what had happened the previous night—how Jungkook drove into the hotel room nearing midnight and the exhaustion was so overpowering that you and Jungkook blindly asked for any room with two twin beds before following through and practically collapsing into your respected beds. 

You definitely did that, which explains why you were on top of the bed, why you’re still in yesterday’s clothes, and why Jungkook’s jacket was your blanket. Stealing another glance at Jungkook: underneath the blankets and in a different t-shirt—you can assume that he was able to take a shower before lying down. 

With a sigh, you push off Jungkook’s jacket and lay it down on the bed next to you. Hoping not to disturb Jungkook, you slide out of bed and lower your suitcase to the ground. After fishing out a new set of clothes, you decide to take a shower. 

The warmth from the shower is the best breath of fresh air you’ve gotten since hitting the road with Jungkook. It feels like your body is going through a battery recharge, and it’s one you take your time with. You step out of the shower, running the towel through your hair and drying yourself enough to slip on your outfit for the day. The towel is thrown around your neck as you step out of the shower, letting the steam follow you out of the bathroom. 

Jungkook is still sleeping as you step out, which is good otherwise you’d feel bad for having disturbed his sleep time. After all the driving he did yesterday, you figure he deserves a few extra hours regardless of what the schedule calls for. 

You continue running the towel through your hair as you pick up your phone. Strangely, you do not remember connecting it to a charger before knocking out, but you pick it up regardless to see the 9:00AM time across your screen. 

There’s a quiet that takes over, in which you’re sitting perched comfortably on your bed and scrolling through your phone as Jungkook continues to drift a few feet away from you. 

About thirty minutes seem to pass before Jungkook is moaning softly to himself, letting out a puff of air as he slowly opens his eyes. His arms extend above him, knocking into the headboard and making him curse softly to himself. His eyes open as he lowers his hands to inspect the damage before immediately looking over towards you. 

He blinks, a tired smile overtaking his lips as he arches his back into a stretch. “Hey,” He greets, voice rough and scratchy and making your heart clench. Damn thing. “You’re awake. You knocked out pretty quickly as soon as we got the room.” 

You laugh. “Yeah, I honestly figured that.” You pick up his jacket, as if he hadn’t been the one to lay it on you those hours ago. “Thanks for trying to help me get comfortable.” You gesture towards the nightstand. “Did you find my charger too?” 

Jungkook sits up as he continues a small round of stretches and yawns. “I did,” He says. “You were barely coherent, but made enough sense to tell me where it was in your bag. Sorry for going through it, by the way.” 

You shake your head, waving him off. “No worries. Thank you again, Jungkook.” 

The pair of you stare at each other for a few moments, before that silence is broken by Jungkook’s phone going off. You look down as Jungkook snatches his own phone off the nightstand. He scrolls through something, before placing it back. 

“So, what’s the plan for today?” You ask, bringing your fingers through your hair to comb and give you a distraction. 

“Oh! Right.” Jungkook swings his legs off the side of the bed. “We have a slower day today. The hotel I picked is only about five hours away? We’re driving through the mountains today, so there’s this place I want to visit that has a little restaurant and everything. It’ll be a cute pit stop.” 

You nod. “Awesome, okay.” You curl your fingers around the strands of now loose strands of hair. 

It takes another hour until you and Jungkook are packed up again and ready to leave. A quick stop to the lobby provides both of you with a bagel and cup of coffee each as your breakfast. All before you’re once again sliding into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car. 

You roll your shoulders before clicking your seatbelt in. “Ready for another long day?” 

“Of course.” He digs through his center console, producing his aux cord. “Your mission,” He says dramatically, not unlike yesterday. “Should you choose to accept.” 

You laugh gently, taking the cord. “You in love with Mission Impossible or something? This is the second time in two days you’re quoting it to me.” 

And this is how your day starts off—talks of Mission Impossible films that bleed into conversations about movies. 

The day at 10 o’clock in the morning is bright and blue as Jungkook drives back onto the freeway and continues down the road. The first few hours consist of the surrounding flatland, of green grass and high mountains all around. Conversations between you and Jungkook are a little more scattered today, but there’s a new level of comfort about the situation. With both of you well rested, it invites a more relaxed atmosphere as you pass the occasional joke or story time between the pair of you. 

As the sun continues to travel higher in the sky, Jungkook’s car starts it’s approach up the mountain. The trees start enveloping the pair of you into a newer, higher world. Not only that, but whenever you and Jungkook reach a clearing, it exposes a dip of lakes, grass, and mountains. And you, always having enjoyed the views of nature, keep an open eye for every single thing. 

You see Jungkook’s choice of destination before he does, and you gasp excitedly. 

Up ahead is a cloud of pink, white, and red flowers covering an entire mountain side. There is an occasional pop of cedar trees amongst the covering of pink, white, and red, but the colors are so poignant that it captures your attention immediately. 

You point to it. “Is that where we’re going?” 

Jungkook grins. “Surprise!” He’s selected this spot before offering the invitation to let you come along, but you’re not complaining. You’ve never been to a flower farm before, despite having heard about them and seen pictures of them for most of your childhood. You continue to watch with wide eyes and bright smiles as Jungkook drives closer and closer to the destination, finally parking in the appropriate lot after paying the fee. 

You’re practically vibrating in your seat with excitement. “Jungkook, Jungkook, c’mon let’s go, let’s go!” You push on the latch and nearly tumble out onto the ground. You straighten to stand on your feet, before meeting Jungkook near the trunk of his car. Surprise, surprise, he pulls out his camera and loops the strap over his head. 

He’s grinning as he closes the trunk. “You’re a little excited, aren’t you?” 

“A little?” You echo, clapping your hands, seemingly unable to wipe the grin off your face. “Jungkook, this is a flower farm! It’s so exciting!” 

So you dart off with Jungkook following closely behind you. The parking lot is located at the top of the flower farm, so the tour around the fields is a downwards one towards the bottom. A small pathway maps out a route for you to follow as you take in the various lines of flowers and colors. One short glimpse at the brochure tells you that these are spring flowers, and that you and Jungkook are visiting during the perfect season. You and Jungkook continue through your makeshift tour in silence, taking in the flowers as well as the view that extends out far beyond your line of sight while Jungkook snaps photographs behind you. Words don’t need to be said when everything around you says it all. 

At the bottom of the field is a cafe, a small brick building with an outdoor seating area facing the now upward flower display. You and Jungkook order sandwiches and soda, and take your seats outside as you wait for your number to be called. There are a fair amount of people today at the field, most of which you can see ahead roaming through the flowers ahead. 

“Have you ever been to a flower farm before?” Jungkook asks, as he glances over at you to see how bright your expression is. 

You smile as you turn to him. “No, never. But thank you for bringing me here, it’s beautiful here.” 

Jungkook smiles, looking a little smug. He looks proud of himself. “I’ve always wanted to come here, so I’m glad I was able to bring you along.” It looks like he wants to say more, but the number that rests between Jungkook’s fingers is called out, interrupting the conversation. He returns a moment later with the food. “I actually wanted to ask you something,” He says, taking the sandwich plate off the tray and placing it in front of you. 

You take the napkins that are being offered to you. “What’s up?” 

He settles down into his seat. “I didn’t get to return the question that you asked me last night.” 

It takes you a second to realize what he’s referring to. Immediately, you feel yourself turn red as you press your lips together. You were definitely drowsy last night, and hadn’t put too much consideration in the aftermath of asking Jungkook about his college relationships. You instead try for a laugh, as you wave him off. “Well, you don’t need to ask me. It’s pretty boring.” 

“Nonsense,” Jungkook brushes off, taking another bite of his sandwich. “So tell me, did you get into any relationships in college?” 

You laugh, albeit a little nervously. “No, not really. I never even went on any dates before—I guess, like you, I just couldn’t see myself in any long term relationship with anyone that seemed to like me.” 

“Well, how about crushes on your end? Did you like anyone?” 

You gaze over at Jungkook—taking in his wide curious eyes, his soft voice, his contagious laugh. The memories of him waving at you in class, of him catching up to you afterwards to continue previous conversations, of him going out of his way to say hi to you in the library. Jungkook has always been thoughtful, considerate, and soft along the edges. How could you not have crushed on him during college? 

And how could you not continue to have these lingering feelings for him afterwards? 

You think about your own advice you had given to Jungkook. You should reach out to her. Since you guys were friends before, I’m sure asking her out just to catch up won’t seem so weird. You need to make your move. Could you even follow your own advice? 

You look down before Jungkook could start asking questions about your staring. “There was this one guy,” You start, trying for an uneasy laugh. “But I don’t think he ever noticed me. Well, that’s a lie. I guess we were kind of friends? I think it’s more along the lines of me being out of his league.” 

“That’s depressing,” Jungkook notes as he finishes his sandwich. You hardly even noticed him inhaling the thing. “How could you be out of a guy’s league? You’re so smart and funny and easy to talk to—if anything, a guy would probably be out of your league.” He leans forward, bringing you close enough where you can clearly make out the mole underneath his lip. “Tell me about this punk. So I can tell you he’s not good enough for you.” 

You laugh, keeping your gaze on him. You doubt he’d be so confident had he known about ‘this punk’. “He isn’t a punk,” You remark quietly. “He’s really nice, and really sweet. I was pretty quiet in college. Definitely introverted and kept to myself and had a hard time making friends. Although I would have honestly barely considered him a friend, he just made me feel like my time was meaningful and my attention was valuable to him.” Jungkook’s eyes continue to bore into yours. “If anything, I just wish he knew how much I admire him.” 

Jungkook’s gaze is unwavering across your face, once again displaying that unreadable expression. Yet, despite that, something glimmers in his eyes and he seems to come to an understanding you yourself don’t know about. That glimmer keeps swimming across the orbs, even as he switches his gaze between your eyes. They flicker down to your lips for a second, and your heart stutters in your chest. 

Jungkook coughs, pulling away from you as he seems to hyper-focus his attention on the soda still in front of him. He looks shy as he steals another glance at you from across the table. “He might not have made you feel that important if you were too scared to tell him how you felt.” 

You look down at your sandwich and take another bite. Something about the way he’s staring holes into the side of your face tells you that he knows something that you don’t. You wonder what he’s thinking. 

Jungkook wears that thoughtful expression for the rest of the visit to the flower field, as the pair of you return back to his car and slide back in your seats. He stays quiet as you resume the trip, slowly making your way back onto the freeway and towards your second motel. 

This kind of quiet is different than the previous silences the pair of you have grown to share over the past twenty-four hours. Unlike the comfortable moments of unspoken words, this is more tense. Like he knows something that you don’t. 

You don’t know what to say, or how to break that silence. You don’t know if perhaps you said something you shouldn’t have, or said something to make him uncomfortable. All of those thoughts are not pleasant ones. 

Jungkook stays quiet for most of the drive through the mountain. The music you have selected is loud enough that seems to drown the tense atmosphere, but the questions still press themselves deeply into your mind. What is he thinking about? 

And worse of all: did he know you were talking about him? 

You and Jungkook only speak a handful of times during the trip. He asks you if you need to use the restroom, if you’re hungry, and if you could play him your favorite anime openings. The pair of you have a handful of laughs about your mutual love for Haikyuu and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, but most of the drive to the motel is ridden out in silence. 

The pair of you reach the hotel around dinnertime, definitely nowhere as exhausted as you had been the previous night, but just as eager to finally reach your destination. The tension between you and Jungkook has eased slightly, so you can only assume that perhaps he has overcome whatever was bothering him. You yourself have pushed the thought of Jungkook knowing the truth out of your mind. After all, if he had known, you assume he would have brought it up. Or at least called for an Uber to send you home. You assume you would have provided some sort of reaction for the two of you to talk about. But alas, those thoughts follow a conversation that has not happened, and will probably never happen, because you’re sure that you’ll never have to be in a situation that forces your feelings to go out of control once again—! 

“Hi,” Jungkook returns to the hotel clerk behind the desk, a girl to be about your age, who is flickering her gaze between you and Jungkook. A flicker in her eyes tells you that she already has multiple thoughts and assumptions about your relationship. “Do you have a room with two beds?” 

“Oh!” The girl blinks, momentarily looking taken aback. “Of course, let me check.” She turns her attention to the computer screen in front of her. Her eyebrows furrow together. “I’m sorry sir, we only have rooms with one bed available—either a full, queen, or king-size mattress.” 

Jungkook makes a noise in the back of his throat as he taps his credit card on the desk. Just watching from the side, you notice how he swallows, how he looks down, how his cheeks turn red. He turns to you after a moment. “D-Do you, uh, do you mind?” 

It takes you a second to realize what Jungkook is asking. He’s asking if you’d be okay with sharing a bed with him. Him: your college crush, the guy you never really lost feelings for. 

You turn red too. “U-Um…” You press your lips together and swallow. “S-Sure,” You manage, waving your hands out in front of you. “I-I don’t mind. I-If you don’t mind, of course.” 

“I-I don’t mind either.” Jungkook, however, looks like he’s about to combust. He looks a little lost again. He blinks once, twice, and seems to realize that he’s supposed to hand the woman behind the desk his card. “Uh, whichever room is the cheapest.” 

“That’ll be the room with the full-size bed.” She flickers her gaze between the two of you. “If that’s okay.” 

“O-Of course,” He stammers back, allowing the girl to take the card. He looks at you. “Do you mind staying here? I have to go to the bathroom real quick.” 

“S-Sure, go ahead.” A part of you wants to hit your head on the desk. What is happening to you? Why is the mere thought of sharing a bed with Jungkook turning you into a pile of mush? You’re a grown ass woman—! 

“So the two of you on vacation or something?” The woman behind the desk asks. She’s still in the middle of scanning Jungkook’s credit card. 

You try for a smile. “Kind of, we’re going to a friend’s wedding.” 

“I see, that sounds fun.” She smiles. “You know, I have to be honest, I was a little surprised he asked for two beds. You guys would make a cute couple.” 

At the label, you start to turn red. “O-Oh n-no, we’re not a couple at all. That’s very flattering, b-but yeah we’re not together.” 

“Oh, I know,” The girl rebuffs. Her smile looks more like a grin. She places Jungkook’s credit card on the desk, along with a receipt and a pen. “I hope the full size bed will change that.” She gives you a wink. 

You part your lips, unsure what to make of the situation. “What—!” 

“I’m back,” Jungkook says, sliding up from behind you and making you jump slightly. “What did I miss?” 

“Uh…” You wonder if your face is too red or not. It certainly feels that way. “Here!” You push him forward towards the desk. “She scanned your credit card. You just need to sign and we’ll be on our way.” 

If Jungkook notices the stiffness in your posture, he doesn’t comment as he leans forward to sign the receipt. Just over Jungkook’s shoulder is the worker, looking at you with a now shit-eating grin across her lips. Several questions ping through your mind, but you don’t get to ask any of those because Jungkook is turning around with his credit card in hand. 

“Uh, ready to get going?” 

“Sure!” You say, voice a few several pitches higher and you return to wanting the ground to swallow you whole. Jungkook leads the way out of the lobby, and you dare one last glance back towards the woman behind the counter. 

She’s waving a slip of paper in her hand. 

You turn back to Jungkook. “Hey Jungkook, give me a second. I think we forgot to grab something at the desk.” 

It sort of feels like a walk of shame to reach the worker behind the counter, who is still grinning at the sight of you and your internal struggles. She hands you the slip of paper, mouths something that makes you go red, before you’re turning back towards Jungkook. “Good luck,” She had whispered. 

Before you’re reaching Jungkook, you open the paper. At the very top is the WiFi password. 

Underneath the WiFi password, in what you can only assume is her handwriting, is one sentence. Fate said you guys only get one bed- don’t worry, I think he likes you too :-) 

“What was that about?” Jungkook asks. 

You shove the paper into your pocket. “The WiFi password,” You supply. 

The walk to the hotel room is quiet as Jungkook leads the way through the different hallways, corridors, and numbers on plaques. That tense silence is back as he guides the two of you, stopping only when he reaches the number that matches the one on the index card. He gives you a look, and inserts the card key into the slot. The door beeps, and he pushes open the door to find, true to the word of the lady behind the counter, one full-sized bed in the middle of the room. 

For the first few hours, it’s easy to ignore that full-sized elephant in the room. Jungkook takes out his laptop and you guys watch your favorite season of Haikyuu together—it’s season two—or you guys linger about on your phones. It isn’t until nighttime falls into your bones, into your minds, that you realize that you really need to address the new situation. 

“I’m gonna take a shower first, if that’s okay,” You say, already sliding off the bed to gather your belongings from your suitcase. Jungkook is humming along to the Haikyuu ending song, but he stops long enough to accept you taking the first shower. He watches you as you fish pajamas out from your suitcase. “Hey, Jungkook…” You start. “Are you sure you’re cool with this?” You gesture to the bed. “I can sleep on the floor. They give you extra bedding for a reason…” 

“What? No, of course not, I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.” He moves until his knees are pressed into the mattress. “And I’m cool with this. Promise.” He hesitates. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

“Y-Yeah,” You manage, straightening into a standing position with your clothes in hand. “I don’t really move around when I’m sleeping. And I trust you, Jungkook.” You keep your gaze on each other until you break it first, turning around to step into the bathroom. 

You step out many minutes later, hair freshly washed and feeling much more relaxed than before. Jungkook has moved to the desk in the corner of the hotel room, typing away at some emails on his laptops. He does, however, whirl around upon hearing you exit the bathroom. The sight of you in your sweats, t-shirt, and damp hair makes his eyes linger. 

You merely tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You can go now,” You say quietly. 

Jungkook nods. “Thanks.” 

Breaking that eye contact again, you turn to the bed and lift the blankets to slide under the covers. You rest your head on the pillow, and immediately start to drift away. 

You are brought back after what only feels like a few minutes, when you hear a light switch turn off followed by the blanket next to you lifting up. You turn slightly towards the other side of the bed. “Jungkook?” You whisper. 

A stillness. “Ah shit, I’m sorry. I was trying to be sneaky.” 

“Mmm…” You mumble softly, turning your body 180 degrees in order to face him. You can vaguely make out the shadow of Jungkook’s outline. “Don’t worry. I’m a really light sleeper. Come on in.” 

There is a shift in the blankets until you feel the additional weight of Jungkook’s figure crawling in next to you. The knowledge that Jungkook is lying right next to you turns your blood hot both with anxiety and because Jungkook brings in a new wave of heat underneath the covers. For a cool spring night, it’s comforting. But also further anxiety-inducing. 

Jungkook shifts and even though the pair of you are on opposite sides of the bed, you can still feel the warmth radiating off his body. In the silence of the hotel room, you can hear Jungkook breathing. 

“Is this okay?” It’s Jungkook asking. His voice is quiet, soothing, and very close to your face. You realize that you guys are facing each other. 

Still, you have to give an answer. “Y-Yeah,” You reply softly. “Goodnight, Jungkook.” 

“Goodnight.” 

You turn onto your back. You try to go to sleep, you really do. But your heart is pounding, and rather than the blood filling your ears, it’s the sound of Jungkook’s breathing. 

“Y/N, you still awake?” Jungkook asks softly. 

You snort. “It’s only been a minute.” 

Jungkook smiles. “Sorry. I just… I have a question. A thought, actually.” 

“What is it?” 

“Well, okay, I don’t want to come off as arrogant or self-centered, but it’s just a question and just this thought that I have…” 

“Jungkook.” You turn back to face him. “You can ask me the question. I don’t mind.” 

“Well, alright.” Jungkook shifts. He’s a little closer now, you can make out the outline of his face. Everything looks slightly more defined now, definitely a result of your eyes adjusting to the darkness. “When you were talking about the guy you had a crush on… you know, when I asked if there was someone you were interested in while we were in college.” 

“Oh, I remember.” Your heart feels fuzzy, even though you have no idea what he’s going to ask you. 

“Okay, um. I guess I just wanted to know. Were you talking about me? 

The world seems to stop tilting on its axis—and all the consequences of that follow along. Everything around you slows to a grind: your heart stops in your chest, and all the air drains out of your lungs. You hold your breath, feeling as if your body has just been dipped underwater. Thousands of thoughts ping through your mind. You feel like that episode of Spongebob where all the file cabinets in your brain are catching aflame. You suddenly feel like you have no thoughts, but too many thoughts at the same time. 

Above all, one question rises above all the rest: how did Jungkook know? 

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you don’t hear your name being called. It isn’t until you feel a hand at your shoulder do you jolt. “H-Huh?” 

“S-Sorry.” Jungkook sounds a lot more nervous now. “You weren’t responding.” 

“I… I was thinking,” You reply lamely. 

A pause. “What’s your answer?” Were you talking about me?

You swallow. Should you tell the truth? Or should you deny everything with the hopes that Jungkook will forget this conversation ever existed? 

The words spill out before you can think of a proper answer. “What if I was?” 

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. “Well…” He starts up again, inching forward towards you. Every move he makes is amplified in your ear, every squeak of the mattress and every rustle of clothing echoed in the small space that is your hotel room. “I’d be kinda frustrated, to be honest. Because when I was talking about my own crush, it might have been about you.” 

At Jungkook’s confession, the world seems to come crashing down on you as everything around tries to catch up to you. Immediately, you assume that perhaps you hadn’t heard Jungkook correctly, or maybe you’re completely misinterpreting what he’s trying to say to you. 

In a perfect world, maybe you’d say something witty and smart. Maybe you’d play along until he snapped. Maybe you’d be fluent in courting talk and understand exactly what he’s trying to say to you. 

But this isn’t a perfect world, and you are neither witty nor smart. You most certainly are not aware of flirtations. You need boys to be as straightforward as possible. Which is why you utter the most comprehensible: “What?” 

You feel a warmth at your hip—Jungkook’s hand against your skin. “Ahhhh.” Jungkook starts, not at all sounding fearful but rather casual. Still the underlying case of shyness, however, because this is still Jungkook. “I forgot you sometimes need simple things spelled out for you. Remember when you emailed our Arts History professor three times because you kept forgetting what font she wanted the assignment in?” 

You flush—Arts History was the class you and Jungkook were forced to pair up together for. Maybe you would have protested it more had you known Jungkook would turn out to be a little shit over it. “That was a one time thing! You’ve been bringing it up for as long as I’ve known you!” 

Jungkook giggles, pulling you closer so your face is against his collarbone and his chin rests on your shoulder. “Shh, okay, okay, I’m sorry.” 

Your face is burning at the feeling of your bodies so close together, your fingers pressed against his shirt and your nose against his skin. He smells like floral fabric softener. “Jungkook…?” You whisper softly, breath fanning his neck. 

Jungkook tilts his head to rest gently against your temple. He stays quiet for a moment, absorbing the moment. “If you did have a crush on me in college, it would be frustrating. Because I had a crush on you too.” 

This time it’s straightforward, just like how you’ve always wanted it. Why can’t you seem to reply? 

“Oh.” 

“I know.” 

You curl your fingers around Jungkook’s shirt. “What if…” You start slowly. “What if I said I still had those feelings?” 

Jungkook seems to think about his answer. “I’d say that I do too.” 

You swallow, nodding in a way that allows him to feel the movement. “Okay then.” 

Without a warning, Jungkook moves to curl his whole arm around your frame. This brings you even closer together. He noses your hairline. “Go to sleep,” He whispers softly. “We can talk about this tomorrow.” 

A part of you wants to say no—that holding off on confessions isn’t what happens in novels or tv shows or movies. But the larger part of you knows that you won’t be able to have a proper discussion like this when you are weak, tired, and vulnerable. Your heart stalls at his consideration, allowing yourself to be content just like this: asleep, cuddling with Jeon Jungkook as you’ve imagined since you first developed your crush. 

It’s much better than the fantasy. 

.

You wake up the next morning with Jungkook’s arms wrapped around you, his soft breathing against your neck and his lips dusting the skin of your neck. There’s a new kind of comfort you find being held like this, and a part of you wants to melt back into his arms. You think you can pretend to be asleep just to stay here a little longer, but the urgency you have to pee and get the day started becomes too pressing. 

Your previous assumptions of Jungkook being a heavy sleeper are confirmed as you manage to untangle yourself from him without so much as a whine from his end. By the time you finish with the bathroom, Jungkook is just beginning to push himself into a sitting position. 

You linger near the foot of the bed. “Good morning,” You greet, almost nervously. For good reason to—the memory of last night is vague but defined well enough where you aren’t sure what the next course of action should be. It’s not like your college ever offered a course about what to do when your crush admits to liking you back. 

Jungkook looks at you from across the bed. He gives you a small smile, a reassuring one. “Morning,” He says back. “How did you sleep last night?” 

You twist your hands together. “Pretty good, actually. How about you?” 

“Me too.” He adjusts his position so he can crawl over to you. He slides his legs over the side of the bed right next to you. He brings his hands towards you, palms up. Although he’s close enough to reach you, he doesn’t. Instead, he asks: “Can I?” 

You don’t say anything, you merely rest your hand in his. He tugs you towards him, stopping only when you’re standing between his legs. He still keeps his fingers curled around yours, turning your hand up to play with your fingers. 

He looks up at you, a soft smile across his lips. “Hi.” 

You smile back. “Hi.” 

He laces your fingers together, resting them between your bodies. “I guess now for the bigger question… how are you feeling?” 

You look down at your hands, deciding you like the way his larger hands cover yours. “H-How did you know I was talking about you?” You ask instead, looking over at him. 

Jungkook shifts his gaze away for a moment. “I don’t know,” He admits earnestly. “You were just looking at me back at the flower field and I had a feeling. And I really think a part of me was hoping you were talking about me.” 

Unable to help yourself, you feel the side of your mouth quirk up into a small smile. “What would you have done if I wasn’t talking about you?” 

He exhales in a laugh. “Honestly, I might have just driven out in the middle of the night and gone over a bridge or something.” 

You laugh, trying to diffuse your smile by pressing your lips but it only works so well. “I was really surprised to hear you liked me back.” 

“Of course!” He exclaims, looking momentarily shocked that you would feel this way. “I wasn’t messing around when I said you were smart, funny, and easy to talk to. That’s what made me really like you when we first met. Whenever we talked you just felt so real and approachable—like I could just be myself around you. And even now, seeing you after graduating and realizing you’re still all of those things. It just makes me like you more.” 

You feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You’ve never thought of yourself in the way Jungkook is describing you—you always just assumed that you were in the background, that you’d never be enough. 

Jungkook is looking at you, his eyes big and wide and full of truth. “Is that weird?” He asks. 

You shake your head immediately. “No, no it’s not weird at all.” You shrug a shoulder, giving him a meek smile. “It’s really sweet, actually.” 

Jungkook grins at that, heaving out a breath as a sign of his lowered defenses. “I think you’re sweet too.” 

You groan at that, throwing your head back as Jungkook breaks into a series of giggles. “You’re corny.” 

“You’re not complaining,” He points out. This is true. 

You shrug. “I guess that means I’m expecting us to catch up on three years of terrible flirting.” 

The smile slides off his face. “You’re right.” He brings your joined hands closer together until your whole body is standing closer to his. “Can I ask to kiss you?” 

The four letter K word makes your heart stutter in your chest once more. Your hands are so close to his chest that you can feel his own heart beating, and the thought of Jungkook being equally nervous for this gives you enough confidence to return his question. “Why don’t you ask and find out?” 

He smiles, a bunny smile that crinkles his eyes. “Touche. Can I kiss you?” 

You smile back. “Yes…” You whisper, leaning down just enough for Jungkook to crane his neck up in order to meet each other halfway. It’s just a closed-mouth kiss, a soft weight against your lips.

It’s one that Jungkook pulls away from before you can really enjoy it, really ponder asking for more. “Sorry,” He says immediately, pointing to his mouth. “Morning breath.” 

The pair of you stare at each other for a moment, before bursting out into laughter. That tense atmosphere is gone, replaced inside with that previously casual and comfortable air—as you step away from Jungkook and let him get his morning started. Except this time, the air is filled with open lingering stares, shy smiles, and Jungkook taking your suitcase wordlessly as you exit your hotel room. 

By the time you load into your car, it’s nearing noon and the gas tank in Jungkook’s car is almost empty. The pair of you agree in another champion’s breakfast—gas station food. 

“I swear, we’re both going to have terrible breakout tomorrow during the wedding,” You point out. Despite your words, you still tear into your Nacho Cheese Doritos with the aggression of a gorilla. “I’m going to photograph horribly. Irene will be so embarrassed.” 

“You photograph horribly? Inconceivable!” He says the word just as it is said in The Princess Bride, which makes you burst into another fit of laughter. 

The afternoon pans out the same way it has for the past two days. Jungkook drives onto the freeway, you decide the music, and the conversations fade in and out. Neither of you talk about the events of the previous night or of what happened in the morning—but the way Jungkook reaches out to laces your fingers together is more than enough. 

The town Jungkook has selected to stop for the evening is a five hour drive from the wedding venue—and it’s an actual city space this time, with restaurants and grocery stores and apartments. As soon as Jungkook tells you this information, you are bursting with excitement. It’s been two days since the pair of you actually stopped and lingered in a city environment and you miss it. 

It takes another whole day of driving to reach the city destination, as the first alert you get is the increasing number of cars that have joined you on the freeway. These more busy freeways guide you into the city, where you are greeted with the first sight of buildings, sidewalks, restaurants, and parking lots in days. 

Even though most of these landmarks are simple flashes that you and Jungkook pass through on the way to the hotel he has selected, you keep your eyes glued out of the window in order to take in as much of the surrounding area as you can. You continue to watch as the immediate high rises become more sporadic and spread out, until he’s finally pulling into the hotel. The sun is just setting behind the many buildings along the horizon. Lots of other cars are parked in the parking lot. You can hear other cars, buses, and trunks driving around the background—and you feel strangely comforted by this discovery. 

“Are you okay with sharing another bed today?” Jungkook asks as he guides the pair of you into the lobby. “I may or may not have called to make a reservation earlier when you were in the bathroom.” 

You laugh, feeling giddy at the thought of Jungkook taking the initiative to continue progressing your now slow-growing relationship. “Was that all they had left?” You ask teasingly as you make your way to the counter. 

Jungkook smiles down at you. “Perhaps I didn’t ask…” 

Your lips part. “Jungkook!” 

“What?” He’s laughing now. “I think I’m gonna bow out of any excuse to cuddle with you now that you’ve given me a taste of what that’s like?” 

You’re gasping in the midst of your laughter. “You’re terrible,” You manage. 

So Jungkook checks in—true to his word, he has reserved a single full-sized bed for the room. 

“Hey, so, I was thinking,” He starts as he’s following the map provided to him by the employee with directions about getting to his appropriate room. This hotel is slightly bigger than the off-the-road ones you and Jungkook pulled into, so it takes a little longer to find the room. After a few minutes of turning the map over, you two eventually find the room. 

“What’s up?” You ask as you push open the door and roll your suitcase into the space, with Jungkook following closely behind you. 

“Come here,” Jungkook requests gently, watching as you let go of your suitcase and make your way towards him. You move into his space easily, allowing him to hold you by the waist. “Since we’ve both admitted to missing out on three years of courting, flirting, and dating—I think we should go out to an actual restaurant to have an actual date.” 

You lean back slightly and give him a slightly shocked look. “Really?” 

“Yes!” He says. “Besides, someone has to put their foot down and say that eating only McDonalds and gas station hot dogs is not the right way to go.”

You laugh at that. “True, but we were having so much fun!” 

“Nope!” He exclaims, shaking his head. “The foot is going down, we’re going to an actual restaurant for dinner. Get changed, take a shower, whatever you need to do to freshen up.” There’s a finality in his words as he finally steps away from you, the smile of sweetness still on his lips. 

The restaurant Jungkook picks after scrolling through Yelp and other lists of recommendations is a corner Italian place that apparently serves the best Linguini and clams—a dish that you really enjoy. So you put something together much more presentable than your usual round of sweatpants and baggy t-shirts—replacing the sweatpants with black jeans and giving yourself a cream colored cropped sweater. It makes Jungkook’s eyes widen all the same. He’s clad in his usual black jeans and oversized coat that is perfect for the spring breeze. 

Since the restaurant is within walking distance of the hotel, you and Jungkook agree to chill off on the driving just enough to stretch your legs and actually have a walk for once—all while celebrating the final night of the road trip. 

“I was a little worried about this at first, to be honest with you,” You admit softly to Jungkook, long after the pair of you have been seated in a corner booth and have ordered your food. You’re circling the pasta noodles around your fork, and Jungkook is watching with a touch of amusement and adoration in his eyes. 

“Not gonna lie, so was I,” Jungkook returns back with an equally meek smile. 

You gape at him. “You invited me though!” 

“I did!” Jungkook exclaims with a laugh, looking down at his own order of food. “Me inviting you was honestly a spur of the moment thing. Me catching up to you, however, was me trying to be brave.” 

“You seemed pretty brave throughout most the trip,” You point out 

Jungkook shakes his head, situating his arms in a cross motion. “Nah dude that was just all a very well thought out facade. A part of me was expecting it to go terribly so I could at least walk away knowing that I built you up in my mind and the fantasy of that was better than the reality.” He must see the look of uncertainty casting a shadow over your mind because he immediately cuts back in. “Just so you know, the reality is much better than anything I could have conjured up.” 

You lower your chin slightly, staring over at Jungkook. You bring one shoulder up into a half-hearted shrug, maybe to showcase a certain level of carelessness. “What were you conjuring up then?” 

“Oh, I don’t know if you want to go there right now,” He rebuffs, looking a little red in the cheeks. “I think we should start slow. Refer to the PG thoughts, if you will.” 

You laugh, focusing your gaze momentarily on the last of your pasta. You had sorted through the clams, since they weren’t your favorite things to eat. “Jungkook, are you admitting to me that you have thoughts above PG?” 

“Oh shit, that wasn’t my intention!” 

You giggle. “I’m messing with you, Jungkook!” 

He pouts. “Don’t do that.” He rests his hand on the table, palm up, inviting for you to take it. “I just want to spend today with you, and take it slow—I just want to hold your hand and kiss you and lay with you and just be with you in the way I couldn’t be with you in college. Is that too weird?” 

You look down, pressing your lips together, trying not to squeal and definitely not trying to throw yourself off the chair. You look back over at him and squeeze his hand. “That’s not too weird at all. That’s actually really sweet. Honestly, those are things I probably would have asked for regardless. I don’t really know the rules of dating—I never really went out that often.” 

Jungkook smiles sweetly back at you, he brings your hands up to kiss the back. “I’ll give you a few pointers then, let’s get going.” 

After the check is paid for—it ends up being a split between the two, it’s the best compromise you can come up with considering he wants to take you out but you want to pay him back for driving this far—the pair of you emerge back into the city space. Jungkook’s hand is still wrapped around yours, using that connection point to pull you close to him. 

“Now this move,” Jungkook explains, beginning to lead you both back to your hotel room. “Is when the gentleman walks the lady home, because their date went by smoothly and he wants to see her for as long as possible.” 

You laugh. “I’m enjoying this so far.” 

The pair of you continue down the sidewalk, using the time it’ll take to walk back to the hotel to walk off the food in your stomach. You resume your conversation, giggling and laughing all the same until you’re walking through the lobby of the hotel and slowly making your way to your hotel room. 

Right before you step inside, Jungkook stops you. “Normally, the front door is where the gentleman drops the lady off, and they talk about how well the date went.” 

“Oh, well, in that case, this was so nice, Jungkook,” You remark, beaming at Jungkook’s own smile. “I’m glad you convinced me to eat real food for once.” 

“You’re welcome—I had fun too.” Jungkook slides closer to you. You, completely hypnotized by his next movements, watch as he cups your face with his hand to angle you upwards. “This is the part where we have a first kiss, because the stars are lined up for this. And because I really want to.” 

You smile, curling one of your hands around the wrist near your face. “Seeing as we’ve already had our first kiss, how about a second one?” 

Jungkook smiles back, eyes lidded towards your mouth. “I guess that’ll work.” His lesson on dating, it seems, is done, as he leans in to kiss you. You suck in a breath as he covers your lips with his. It’s deeper than the first time he kissed you—which had been more of a peck with a side of morning breath. But now you’re both awake, tasting like wine, and drunk off each other. It’s a more real kiss. 

You whimper as Jungkook’s tongue runs over your bottom lip, before slipping into your mouth. It’s a sensation you can get completely lost in, until Jungkook pulls away. 

Under the hallway light, you can make out his flushed cheeks, his wet lips, his dark gaze. 

Immediately, Jungkook is pulling you to his side before he starts digging through the pockets of his jeans. “Alright, we’re going inside right now.” 

You lean into his shoulder. “I thought I was supposed to invite you inside, Jeon? What happened to giving me pointers on first dates?” 

“Screw that,” He retorts, practically shoving the hotel door open. He turns around to face you. “Now, this is our hotel room. And I want to kiss you in private.” 

Your laughter is drowned out as Jungkook tugs you by the wrist into the room. 

.

Under different circumstances, waking up next to each other after a first date would hit you with a wave of anxiety and maybe even a vague sense of embarrassment at letting someone you like see you in such a vulnerable position. 

Right now, however, under the morning sunlight within the covers of your shared hotel bed, you just feel happy and content. You wake up on your side, with an arm resting over Jungkook’s chest and his fingers curling around your own. There is an immediate feeling of giddiness that overtakes you, because it’s hard for you to believe that this is happening. Someone you’ve liked and continue to like actually returning your feelings? That has always been such a foreign concept to you. 

You don’t know how long you continue laying in bed until Jungkook starts shifting next to you, signalling his wake. You watch as his eyes slowly peel open, laced with grogginess but still looking unfairly attractive that there are butterflies in your stomach. 

Jungkook lets out a sigh, as he looks down at you. A tired smile takes over his expression. “Morning.” 

“Good morning,” You reply back, voice soft and a little shy. “Happy wedding day.” 

That is true. Today is Irene’s wedding—an event you and Jungkook will arrive at in nearly five hours. There’s a strange sort of knot that is beginning to twist itself in your stomach, a knowledge that something good is coming to a close but a fear in the unknown as to what this would mean regarding your relationship with Jungkook. Neither of you have laid down groundwork for your relationship—if this even is a relationship to begin with. You may be inexperienced with this kind of stuff, but you’re sure that one date and making out on a hotel bed doesn’t immediately constitute an exclusive relationship. 

If Jungkook notices the tension in your form, he doesn’t say anything. He kisses your temple and grumbles something about wanting to get the day started. He mentions something about not having to worry about getting dressed for the wedding straightaway—that he has reserved a room at the hotel some of the guests of the wedding would be staying at, which is where you will be getting ready before the event. You nod, hearing pieces of his words, but a lot of it gets lost in your own thoughts. 

Is it okay to ask questions about where you stand with Jungkook? Is it foolish of you to even bother wondering? You’ve seen movies and have had conversations with friends about guys who dismissed questions like that as ‘moving too fast’. You don’t want to scare Jungkook off, but you also need to know that you’re not wasting your time.

You remain in bed, staring up at the ceiling as you sigh and try to organize through your thoughts. You also try to break down how the past three days have been. 

However, trying to do so proves to be a difficult challenge, as Jungkook’s phone starts buzzing excessively on his side of the nightstand—it seems like he is getting a series of text messages from someone. 

You know you shouldn’t be looking or prying, but the constant binging of alerts only eats at your nerves more. You turn in the bed towards Jungkook’s side, picking up the device to search for the silence switch along the sides. The screen, however, lights up and you immediately see a name you have not seen or heard since college. 

Jennie (9:53AM): hey jungkook !! just thought I’d ask where you want to meet up before the wedding starts 

Jennie (9:53AM): since we’re each other’s plus ones, I think we should show up together but idk let me know what you think 

Jennie (9:53AM): I’m excited to see you again and catch up, it’s been so long !! :) 

You freeze, feeling your body overload with information and questions come flooding into your mind. At first, you think you reread the message wrong. You think that maybe Jennie is texting the wrong person. But after the third or fourth time, you realize that this isn’t a dream. That Jungkook already has a plus one to the wedding, and it isn’t you. 

More than that, it’s Jennie. 

Jennie is also someone you went to college with, and someone that you only heard of between the grape vines and therefore is someone that is only vaguely recognizable. But you definitely know her. Jennie had been one of Irene’s friends, president of her sorority—and labeled some of the nicest people on campus. Even just from rumors and the one time you ran into her around the school, you can see it. Jennie is nice, beautiful, friendly, and outgoing. All the things you are not. 

And now, she’s Jungkook’s plus one to the wedding. And Jungkook did not tell you. 

Your lips part as your head starts to spin. Why didn’t Jungkook tell you he already had a plus one to Irene’s wedding? Maybe he did not owe you the explanation, and maybe you should never have assumed he’d be your plus one to the wedding. 

The thought of you assuming Jungkook would be your date to the wedding fills you with a vague mortification—why did you have to go ahead and assume? 

Your mind starts to spiral as you fall into the depths of overthinking. Now you were set to attend a wedding alone, with no plus one, and surrounded by people you don’t know. All while watching Jungkook sit with Jennie, eat with Jennie, and dance with Jennie. 

Holy fuck, holy fuck, what were you going to do? You can’t go to this wedding alone. You can’t confront Jungkook about this—you’re not even supposed to be touching his phone or looking through his phone. He would definitely be upset. How could he not be? 

At once, the tears collect in your eyes. How could this be happening? Seconds ago, you had been so content and happy, excited to attend this wedding with Jungkook. Seconds ago, you had been confident about your feelings, and Jungkook’s feelings in return. From all the kisses he showered you in, the date, the talking, the confessing—how could you not feel that way? 

Had Jungkook just been pulling your leg? After all, he did have three years to talk to you, to go out with you. Why hadn’t he said something sooner? Is he here right now: talking to you and laughing with you because he hadn’t found anyone and knows that you would do anything for him? 

In the background, you can vaguely make out the shower in the bathroom turn off, signalling Jungkook’s near completion with the bathroom. At once, it feels like you’re in a car that has enforced sudden breaks and has sent you flying against the dashboard—like you can’t breathe. 

Hastily, you rest Jungkook’s phone back on the nightstand and roll back over to your side of the bed. You blink quickly, trying to rid of the tears that have collected in your eyes while also trying to calm the lump in the back of your throat. 

Just as you’re starting to get a handle back on your feelings, the bathroom door opens and you can vaguely make out Jungkook’s humming as he exits. The fact that he sounds so carefree while you’re hurting only a handful of feet away almost makes the tears come back in. But you’ve learned how to hide your emotions well. 

Jungkook’s soft laugh brings you out of your thoughts. “Still in bed?” He asks jokingly, sitting on the edge and placing a hand on your ankle. You try not to stiffen at the gesture. “You know, even though we’re getting dressed at a different hotel, we still need to get going.” 

You take in a breath. “I’m comfortable here,” You exclaim, sitting up and facing Jungkook. He’s looking as wide-eyed, easy-going, and comfortable as always. You’re not sure how long you can keep up the facade of being okay. “I was just waiting for you, that’s all.” 

You don’t wait for him to reply as you slide off the bed, grab your clothes from your suitcase, and lock yourself in the bathroom. You ignore the lump in your throat as you brush your teeth, as you get your day started. Finally, you look up at your own reflection in the mirror. Unlike previous times, when there had been a glimmer to your gaze—you don’t know you recognize the now disheartened individual before you. 

You exit the bathroom and immediately turn to pack up your suitcase once more, ignoring Jungkook in the process. The boy is on his phone, typing something—probably a text message. Maybe he’s responding to Jennie, confirming their date for tonight, as he remains completely oblivious to your feelings. 

The thought brings the tears back to your eyes. 

“Ready to go?” Jungkook asks, all smiles and soft eyes as he slides off the bed to face you. 

You don’t look at him as you shoulder your carry-on bag and straighten into a standing position. “Yeah.” You don’t mean for the tone to come out dry and unresponsive, but you’re too focused on trying to get the tears out of your throat. 

You miss the way the smile slowly slips off Jungkook’s face as he watches you move towards the door. 

Jungkook moves towards you, reaching forward to take your suitcase from you just as he’s done for the past few days. 

You, however, brush him off. “It’s okay, Jungkook.” You pull open the door and make your way down the hallway without looking back to see if he’s following closer behind you. You don’t need his help, you don’t need his pity. You don’t need him to do these things, to lead you on—especially if he was going to end up with some other girl at then end of the day. 

You stay quiet as you make your way to Jungkook’s car. Jungkook steals the occasional glance in your direction, seeming to finally realize that something is wrong. 

He, however, doesn’t say anything until you’re back on the freeway—on the five hour drive towards the wedding venue. “Everything okay?” 

You’re playing with your hair, but you stop long enough to spare him a short glance. You’re not even looking at his face, you’re looking at the chair he’s seated on. “What do you mean?” 

Jungkook clears his throat. “You’ve been really quiet since I got out of the bathroom. You…” He gestures to the center console. “You’re not even playing any music.” He tries for a smile. “I’d really like to listen to your ‘everything’ playlist.” 

“Sorry, I’m not really in a music-listening mood right now,” You whisper, realizing that you should probably cover up your ass a little better than you are currently. “S-Sorry, I think it was something at the restaurant yesterday. I’m not feeling super hot right now.” 

“Oh no, do we need to stop by a pharmacy or something? I can run in and get some stomach machine or whatever—!” 

“Jungkook, it’s fine.” 

Maybe it’s the finality of your tone, or the sharper edge in your voice, but Jungkook quiets down again. One glance in his direction shows you the furrow of his eyebrows, the set of his jawline—he looks hurt and confused. And that kills you inside. 

A small part of you wants you just lay all your cards on the table—to admit your side of the story and let him know about the texts and the hurt feeling still eating itself at your heart. 

But another part of you, the bigger part of you, doesn’t want to give Jungkook that power. You don’t want to be the one to crack first, to be the one who gets hurt first. So you refuse to say anything, settling deeper and deeper into the seat of Jungkook’s car. Contrary to your initial thoughts, he doesn’t plug in his own phone to play his own music. He simply allows the pair of you to bathe in silence. 

Without the music to distract you, without Jungkook trying to make conversation, it forces your mind to linger on the events of the early morning. Maybe Jungkook didn’t tell you because it was obvious to him that the pair of you would never have been a plus one to the wedding in general. He’s probably hurt because Jungkook can’t get his way with you. 

The realization that he doesn’t even have the consideration to warn you ahead of time that an invitation for a ride doesn’t equate to an invitation to be a plus one brings the tears back to your eyes. Did you not even deserve a warning? Why would Jungkook let you kiss him, let you fall in love with him—only to turn his back on you like this? 

You have to keep your eyes glued to the window of the passenger’s side of the car, just to make sure Jungkook won’t see the tears. You can just imagine that he’ll ask, and the conversation will steer the pair of you into an even more awkward space. 

It’s a very agonizing five hours. Not having that time to recover from the shock of those texts is becoming increasingly more difficult for you to handle. 

There are a few times that your tears overwhelm your whole system, where you have to sniff to get a handle on your body’s response to the emotions going through your body—which you’re sure Jungkook can hear. After all, there’s no music playing and there is a silence that is threatening to swallow you whole. 

Jungkook, however, does not say anything in response to your very obvious sniffle. He merely tightens his grip on the steering wheel, and keeps his mouth shut. You wonder if he’s waiting for you to talk first, to explain what’s going on with you. 

The sky is bleeding orange by the time Jungkook pulls into the new hotel, the final hotel. There is still two hours until the wedding is set to start, but every nerve in your body is screaming for you to leave and go back home. Every nerve in your body is telling you that you don’t belong here anymore. 

“Okay, I let you have your peace for the whole drive over,” Jungkook starts off, voice tight, fixing the car into park. “But I’m asking you this right now. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t seem fine… and I’m worried about you…” He reaches across the car to land a hand on your shoulder. It’s a completely normal gesture, especially between you and Jungkook, but you cannot handle it. 

You jerk away. “I’m fine,” You snap out, actually fixing your gaze on him this time. Jungkook recoils, immediately retracting his arm from you, looking like you just burned him. You tear your gaze away from him. You’re not strong enough to see him hurt because of you. “Why do you care anyways?” 

Jungkook exhales in disbelief, turning towards the steering wheel of the car and running a hand through his hair. “What are you talking about? Is this about last night? Did I… say something to scare you off?” 

“This isn’t about what you said, this is about what you didn’t say and what you’re not telling me!” 

Jungkook looks like you just grew a second head. “What are you talking about?” 

You whirl back to face him. “Oh, so the fact that you and Miss. Jennie were already set to go to this fucking wedding together and you didn’t even think to give me a heads up and tell me?” 

Jungkook freezes like a deer in headlights. “What? How did you know about that?” 

You laugh, but it’s a hollow noise that only makes that lump come back to your throat. “Nevermind,” You bite out. This time, you don’t stop the tears from resurfacing as you give Jungkook a full look this time. His demeanor changes from frozen to pained at the sight. “I hope you guys are very happy together.” 

You don’t say another word as you fumble with the latch of the door before pushing it open with more strength than necessary. You can vaguely hear Jungkook struggling with his own seat belt, but you don’t care. You slam the car door shut and storm away. You don’t know where you’re going—maybe around the corner to scream, or to call a taxi that’ll take you to the airport. You don’t care about the wedding. You don’t think you could face the embarrassment in facing Jungkook or Jennie or Irene right now. 

“Shit, Y/N! Y/N!” Jungkook is calling for you now, his footsteps loud against the asphalt. 

Everything feels like you’re going through water, which is probably why Jungkook is able to reach you as quickly as he does. He catches you by the wrist. 

“Y/N—please, will you stop and just listen to me?” 

“No! Jungkook, let me go.” You start trying to tug your wrist, trying to pull yourself away from him. “Let me go! I’m leaving! I don’t want to see you anymore!” You’re gasping, the tears blurring your vision and making you feel powerless. 

Without a warning, Jungkook pulls you in his arms. Wrapping his arms around you, he traps you in his embrace. And you are miserable. 

“Stop it!” You gasp, trying to push him away. You’re heaving—crying and trying to escape from someone as strong as Jungkook is definitely a workout for your body. “Jungkook, leave me alone. This is all my fault.” 

He pauses. “What do you mean?” 

You stop struggling, allowing Jungkook to hold you as you pull back enough to look away from his face. You wipe at the tears on your face. “It’s my fault anyways. I said I liked you and you said you liked me too, but maybe that wasn’t enough for you. Just because we like each other doesn’t mean we’re exclusive. I should have asked up front, so I wouldn’t get hurt in the long run.” 

“You don’t need to get hurt though,” Jungkook whispers kindly, his voice overcoming the blood in your ears, as well as your own yelling. You quiet down at that, except for your own lungs contracting to catch more air. This leaves you a hiccuping mess. He waits until he knows you’re not going to say anything next. “You’re right, okay? Jennie and I were supposed to be each other’s dates.” 

You’re still trying to catch your breath. 

Jungkook rests a hand on top of your head, curling his fingers through the strands of your hair soothingly. “Are you okay?” 

You hiccup. “Why are you telling me this? I just told you that I’m hurt right now…” 

“Shhh.” Jungkook pulls back and cups your face in his hands so you can look at him. “You aren’t listening to me. I said we were supposed to be each other’s dates. We’re not anymore.” 

You blink, allowing the tears that were already filling your eyes to fall down your cheeks. Jungkook wipes them gently with his thumb. “What?” 

Jungkook’s gaze flickers between your eyes. “Jennie and I are friends, so we’d figure it would be fun to just go together and have a person to sit with, eat with, and dance with. As friends.” 

“W-What happened then?” You ask, a watery color in your voice. 

Jungkook gives you a gentle smile, the kind of gesture that tells you that you should know the answer already. “You happened, silly.” He keeps his eyes on yours. “I saw you at the party with Jimin and invited you to come with me. I assumed when I asked that we’d be each other’s plus ones. I forgot to tell Jennie though when I asked you out.” He tilts his head at you. “You saw the texts on my phone, didn’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry.” You hiccup again. “Your phone kept going off this morning and I was just trying to put it on silent. I-I didn’t mean to look through your messages…” 

“Shh, baby, you’re good, you’re okay.” Jungkook interrupts gently, wrapping his arms tighter around you and swaying the pair of you back and forth. The usage of the nickname fills you with a new feeling, a warmer feeling. It helps calm you down. 

Your breathing eventually evens out, bringing you back to reality and to the realization that you and Jungkook are hugging in the middle of a hotel parking lot. 

Jungkook loosens his grip on you, letting you step back. He watches you for a moment. “Here,” He says, digging through his pocket and pulling out his phone. “I think you should see this.” He clicks through a few of his apps, until he seems to find what he’s looking for because he hands the phone to you. You look over at him, confusion flooding through your features. Jungkook gives you a reassuring nod. “It’s okay.” 

Still hesitant, you take the phone and look at the messages across the screen. It’s the texts from this morning. 

Jennie (9:53AM): hey jungkook !! just thought I’d ask where you want to meet up before the wedding starts 

Jennie (9:53AM): since we’re each other’s plus ones, I think we should show up together but idk let me know what you think 

Jennie (9:53AM): I’m excited to see you again and catch up, it’s been so long !! :) 

Jungkook (10:20AM): hey Jennie !! oh shit i totally forgot to let u know but i actually found a plus one :( i’m soooo sorry i should have told you earlier omg i feel terrible 

Jennie (10:20AM): no worries jungkook !! who is it omg do I know them? 

Jungkook (10:20AM): it’s actually Y/N? We all went to college together… 

Jennie (10:20AM): OH!!!! wait isn’t she the one Irene was working with a lot for senior projects? 

Jennie (10:20AM): OH HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO

Jennie (10:21AM): OKAY JUNGKOOK I SEE U 

Jennie (10:21AM): she’s THE Y/N right???? the one u were in love with for our entire college career?? 

Jungkook (10:22AM): …… maybe? 

Jennie (10:22AM): WOWOWOWOW good for u Jungkook !!! glad to see u finally having the balls to ask her out !! 

Jungkook (10:22AM): OKAY THAT’S ENOUGH 

Jungkook (10:23AM): I actually felt BAD for leaving you by yourself BUT NOT ANYMORE 

Jennie (10:23AM): LMAO Jungkook I’m friends with Irene’s entire bridesmaid row i’ll be fine 

Jennie (10:23AM): just go get ur dick wet!!!!!! 

Jungkook (10:23AM): istg i will leave you on read 

Jungkook (10:23AM): also that is NOT the point!!!!!! Just wanna love my new girl :( 

Jennie (10:24AM): You’re gross 

Jennie (10:24AM): but sounds good see you tonight! 

You look up from Jungkook’s phone to see him watching you carefully, gauging your reaction, pleading for you to forgive him. 

The only thought that can be translated into a coherent sentence comes out: “You were in love with me during college?” 

Jungkook exhales in a laugh, his arms finding your waist once again. “I think ‘in love with’ was a bit of a stretch back then. I think you could agree that we didn’t know each other well enough before for me to say that.” 

You’re still looking at him. “Back then…?” You echo. 

He nods. “Back then.” He brings you closer, one hand moving up to gently brush at the skin of your cheek. “But it’s different now. Now, I can say with absolute certainty that I’m in love with you.” 

Your lips part. “You’re in love with me?” The tears spring back into your eyes, but for a different reason entirely. The emotional rollercoaster you have just been on is unbelievable. 

Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sight of your tears. “Oh shit, I’m sorry! Is that too fast? I’m sorry, I should have given you a warning or something. Or more time at least. Oh no, please don’t cry…” 

You brush him off with a watery laugh, waving his concern away. “It’s okay Jungkook. This is fine, really.” You give him a smile. “I love you too. I really thought you were pulling my leg or something.” 

Jungkook gives you his own small smile. “I’m sorry. I should have brought this up sooner about us being each other’s plus ones. Just because I assume something doesn’t mean it’s an established thing.” He brings you closer, his smile turning into a grin. “You love me too, huh?” 

You giggle. You’re too strung out to come up with something witty or clever. “Yeah…” 

Jungkook is still smiling, his gaze switching between your lips and your eyes. “I’m gonna kiss you now.” 

You nod. “About time.” 

He kisses you again, softly and sweetly, tongue slipping past the seam of your lips but it’s gentle caresses that make your heart feel like it’s crawling up your throat. 

“OH MY GOD GET A ROOM!” A voice calls from the other side of the parking lot, forcing you and Jungkook to pull away. The pair of you look at each other and you start to laugh. 

Jungkook kisses your forehead, sweeping down to your ear. “How about we check into our room and get ready?” 

You giggle, nodding over at him. “That sounds good.” 

So Jungkook leads the way, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you gather your suitcases from the car and enter the lobby. You check in easily, as Jungkook is provided a map with directions on how to reach the room. 

The pair of you don’t pull away once until Jungkook is sliding the key card into the door and pushing it open to reveal the bedroom you’ll be sharing for the night. 

Both you and Jungkook park your suitcases near the foot of the bed, as per usual. 

“Do you want to use the bathroom?” Jungkook offers. 

You nod, smiling softly. “Okay.” 

You gather the dress you’ve brought in your arms, about to enter the bathroom, before Jungkook’s voice stops you. “Hey,” He calls, approaching you and wrapping you in his arms again. He’s much more handsey this time, like he needs to make sure you’re not going to run away again, like you’re going to be okay. “You feel better now?” His thumb brushes your lips. “Your eyes are still a little red.” 

You nod. “The makeup will probably help that,” You reassure in a soft voice. 

Jungkook mirrors your movements. “Still, how about I get some ice for you so you can put something cold underneath your eyes… to stop the puffing.” 

He looks genuinely concerned and worried for your wellbeing that you can’t help but smile. Since he is insisting, you decide to just let him be. “Okay, Jungkook.” 

He smiles. “Okay! You start getting ready and I’ll get the ice, okay?” A quick kiss on your cheek before he’s bounding out of the door with the provided ice buckets. 

Your eyes linger on the door for a few minutes before you’re turning back to your suitcase. The dress you have picked is a pink flowing floor-length number—something Karly helped you pick out before leaving. It’s soft enough that it doesn’t leave crease marks along the fabric, which had made this outfit perfect for the trip. You take the dress and your bag of makeup before entering the bathroom. You’re just slipping on the dress when you hear the hotel room door open and close. 

“Okay, I got the ice!” Jungkook announces through the bathroom door. “Did you want to work on your eyes right now?” 

“Sure,” You call back. “Do you mind zipping me up first?” 

“Of course,” Jungkook returns, sounding distracting as you open the door to the bathroom. You peek your head through, noticing Jungkook opening his suitcase on the floor and sorting through it—probably for his own suit. 

He must hear the door open, because he looks up towards you. Immediately, his eyes widen as he straightens up into a standing position. “O-Oh wow…” He’s looking you over up and down, up and down, as if he needs to commit this to memory. “Y-You look great. Beautiful.” 

“Really?” You stammer back. “Thank you.” 

Jungkook keeps his eyes on you as he approaches you. “You needed me to zip you up?” 

“O-Oh right, yeah.” Hastily, you turn around, brushing the hair from your back to expose your undone zipper, and your bare back. 

You think that he purposely grazes the tips of his fingers against your skin in his process of bringing the zipper up to the top of the fabric. You’re about to turn, thank him, but his hands back at your waist do the gesture for you. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. You look really pretty.” 

You pout. “You’re being too nice to me.” 

Jungkook whines, hugging you close to him. “You’re too cute.” He noses at your temple. “I just wanted to see you smile.” He pulls away after a moment. “Let’s take care of your face, yeah?” He turns around and returns with a small baggy full of ice. “Here, sit down for a second.” He leaves for a second, returning back with a towel. “Maybe… five minutes each eye. I don’t know. I’ll get ready while we’re waiting.” 

So he takes his suit out from his case and disappears into the bathroom, leaving you alone with a towel of ice pressed against your eye. The cooling sensation definitely helps with the puffiness. 

Jungkook appears from the bathroom a few minutes later—dressed in a black suit with a white button-down and a long skinny black tie. His hair has been fiddled with a little, but he still has that messy, boyish, lovable appearance that makes your heart race. 

“Did you switch the towel?” 

You nod. 

“How do you feel?” 

Slowly, you bring the towel down and rest it on your lap. You look at Jungkook. “How do I look?” 

He leans forward towards you, holding your chin gently between his fingers. “You look better. Did you need to finish getting ready?” 

“Yeah. I just need to touch up my makeup.” 

“Okay, go ahead then.” 

Jungkook takes the towel, and watches as you make your way back to the bathroom. You’re only gone for a few minutes before you’re emerging once more—eyeshadow a little darker, lashes a little closer, and lips slightly pinker, but overall still looking like the same version of the girl he fell in love with. 

The pair of you drive to the wedding venue, a cute brick building with browns, greens, and whites surrounding. Guests already swarm the outside area, some of whom you recognize from college. The sight makes you nervous. 

Jungkook sees this, and he reaches over to grab onto your hand. “You can just stick with me, okay?” He smiles. “I’ll protect you.” 

You roll your eyes, but you are thankful to have Jungkook as your source of comfort and be that person you could run back to. 

He parks and meets you at the front of his car, where you lace fingers and make your way towards the venue. You go through a small round of hellos and ‘nice to finally meet you’ conversations—most notably from Mingyu and Jennie, both of whom light up at the sight of your presence. Contrary to your previous worries, you find that you don’t really need to be so nervous. Mingyu and Jennie are friends of Jungkook’s for a reason—they radiate a relaxing nature that you can tell is what has drawn the three of them to each other. 

They ask about you, your college experience, your current experience, passing easy conversation in the ceremony space right before the start of the wedding. It’s fun to see Jungkook joking around with the friends he grew up with, and even more fun to see how easy you are allowed into that world. 

The actual wedding ceremony is a blur. You vaguely recognize the extremely attractive, excited, and watery-eyed version of Seokjin at the head of the aisle. You definitely recognize the equally as attractive, excited, and watery-eyed version of Irene, downed in white lace and looking much more beautiful than you ever remember her. Vows are exchanged, kisses are shared, there’s an applause, and pictures are taken before the guests are ushered into the main entry room—decked out with a bar and a few scattered seating areas. Jungkook whispers to you that guests are put here temporarily, as the ceremony space is being converted into a dining area. 

True to Jungkook’s promise, he lingers by your side most of the night. Although you reassure him that you are fine, you are much more emotionally stable compared to a few hours ago, and that perhaps you are okay catching up with Nayeon—another girl from college, actually someone from the first party you ever attended who defended you when you were receiving unwanted attention—but Jungkook simply tells you that he likes being around you. He likes being able to put his arm around you, likes to rest his hand at your waist, likes people knowing that he has you. 

It’s a few more minutes of conversation, of laughter, of old stories being exchanged between people you haven’t seen for years, when the guests are called back into the newly converted dining area. Instead of rows of chairs lined up, there are round tables filling the space. The long panel of doors once closed along the wall of the room have been opened—exposing a gazebo with a D.J. and a dance floor, all encircled by a string of big bright fairy lights. 

You and Jungkook are situated at the same table as most of the guests you recognize from college. You assume this is purposefully done to give you all a common ground, and it works because conversations spring easily between you all. Even when you’re not talking about your experiences from university, you’re able to transition from topic to topic. You and Jungkook occasionally talk amongst yourselves as you’re eating, but you sit together and laugh together when Irene and Seokjin emerge and listen in during the wedding toasts. 

Finally, Irene and Seokjin make their rounds through the room, stopping at the tables to cheer and laugh and exchange a few words of congratulations and conversation. Following this process, everyone at your table stands on their feet as Irene and Seokjin make their way towards you. There are bright smiles, Irene’s cheerful gasp as she takes in all the guests that have come to join her. She circles your table, hugging every guest, continuing this when she reaches you. 

Irene grins at the sight of you. “Y/N! Oh my gosh, it’s been so long!” 

“I know!” You return, pulling away from Irene. “Congratulations. This wedding is beautiful.” 

She beams, absolutely radiating in her white dress and glittering makeup. “Thank you so much for coming! But oh my god, are the rumors true, did you really show up—!” She looks over your shoulder, and grins again. “Jungkook!” She hugs Jungkook. “I should be saying congratulations to the two of you. I was surprised to get the text from Jungkook saying that you guys were coming as each other’s dates. Gave me a whole pain because I had to switch some seats around at the last minute. But anything for my favorite people.” She turns to you and holds onto your arms. “Jungkook has had a crush on you for years, so you’re really doing him a huge favor.” 

“Okay, enough,” Jungkook interrupts, scowling. But there is still that playful look in his eyes. “Did all your friends know about this? Jennie knew something was up too when I texted her.” 

Irene presses her lips together. “Mingyu might have mentioned something.” She presses her hand to Jungkook’s cheek. “Stay safe, you guys. Hope you enjoy the rest of the night.” She moves onto her next guest. 

Jungkook is groaning. “Remind me to never tell Mingyu anything ever again.” He glares at the boy from across the table. “Gonna fling some peanuts at that son of a bitch.” 

You laugh, wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s waist. “Oh, let him be. It’s Irene’s wedding. You can get him tomorrow.” 

Jungkook pouts, but he does wrap his own arm around your shoulder. “Ah, love my girl—promoting evil behavior after festive events.” He kisses your cheek as your table takes their seats once more. 

The good natured atmosphere continues as you and Jungkook down your food, remaining fully engaged in the conversations happening around the table. After another hour of this, the DJ announces the start of the married couple’s first dance. Irene and Seokjin take to the dance floor and spin around, her white dress flowing around the room like light. Underneath the glow of the fairy lights, it looks like the couple is in an entirely new world. And you are so taken by it. 

Jungkook does not turn to you until the DJ plays a slow song—a first slow song after a series of upbeat dance and pop genres. He jerks his head towards the dance floor. “You want to dance?” 

You take his hand when he offers. “Of course.” He leads you across the room, towards the gazebo, where several other couples have moved to cling to one another. Jungkook pulls you in: one hand on your waist and the other with your own hand. “This is really nice,” You start off. 

Jungkook laughs. “The wedding, or the dance?” 

You smile over at him. “Both. Being able to slow dance with you, however, is marginally better.” 

Jungkook is quiet for a little after that. He seems content just staring at your eyes, taking in the magic of this moment. “Thank you for coming with me,” He starts. “The whole road trip thing. Definitely would not have been as fun if I did all that by myself.” 

“Well, thank you for inviting me,” You return. “Even though we had that big misunderstanding. I had a lot of fun.” 

“Hey.” Jungkook angles his head a little so he can look at you in the eyes. “You know that I would never hurt you, right? You’re too important to me that I wouldn’t even think to pull some stupid shit like that again. You know that I love you too much to do that to you, right?” 

“I do know now,” You say, gazing over at him. “And I love you too.” 

You’re not usually an expressive person. But it’s worth saying those words just to see the grin that overtakes Jungkook’s face. It’s worth even more when he leans forward, kissing you openly in front of all his friends, nibbling gently at your bottom lip, running his tongue over the wound, and into your mouth. It’s worth it to have his fingers dusting sweetly over your skin, coaxing your mouth to open to allow exploration. 

It feels like worlds pass before Jungkook pulls away, giving you that breathless smile dimple and all, before he’s leaning forward to bury his face into your neck. 

“I think the drive home will be fun,” Jungkook mutters softly. 

“Hm?” You hum, eyes closed as he presses tiny kisses along your neck. 

“Most definitely,” Jungkook says, lifting himself just enough so that his lips hover over your ear lobe. “Because I plan on fucking you in every hotel bed for the rest of the trip.” 

You feel your heart race, your cheeks heat. Yes, this was definitely worth it. 

[sugar-petals]

Club Daemon (m)

PAIRING. merman!baekhyun x vampire!reader

↳ PLOT. You join a club of half-demons all hailing from different supernatural species — and find an unexpected love.  

↳ WORDS. 27k

TAGS / WARNINGS ⚠️ eventual smut, jealousy, explicit bloodsucking sex (mutual oral, vaginal), fangs kink, pining, groping, femdom!reader, angst/action, neck fixation, rough sex, fantasy au

The room is filled with smoke, but not from any cigarettes. Somewhere around here, or so you’ve been told, must be the entrance to actual hell. 

A gloomy spiral staircase headed for the core of the earth, kind of rusty and gleaming in red, fog everywhere, you get the idea. But so far… that’s none of your business. And either way.

The architecture in the part of the mansion you were invited to elegantly pools into a massive door of brass and copper. An embossed piece, amazingly sculpted — a hundred years old or more.

The center depicts a translucent emblem that appears to be strangely double-headed. Two facial profiles. One gazing east, the other, west. What exactly that’s supposed to mean: You have no idea, but you get the gist. Some kind of Greek mythology visual going on there. 

Doesn’t look like hell, does it.

You approach the door with slowed steps, tug your blazer into a comfortable fit at the lower hem. Had a mint? Check. Documents? Check. Posture? Semi-check. Adjusting necessary. Back straight, firmer walk. Done. Hopefully. As long as you don’t have to take those reckless stairs down south, you’re surprisingly ready for this. And what kind of preparations can you take for this kind of encounter in the first place anyway.

Beside the door, a concierge behind a luxurious, bulky table lifts his golden-framed glasses. They’re exceptionally thin and round, making their wearer appear like a wise, yet prying owl. Mister Mark Lee, apparently, going by how Taemin described him to you. 

Oh God, Taemin’s pointers saved your life finding this place. He’s been so forthcoming and took the time to explain as much as he could. The moment makes you reminisce a little. Your eyes lose focus.

Meanwhile, fully in the moment, the conscierge seems to cloud himself in the mystery of his dark green suit without any words. A man as groomed as this very Victorian penthouse. And this very borough, and this very carpet you’re standing on. Greeting you with a nod as understated as can be. 

It’s not like he’s treating you like air — he simply keeps the certain reserve you’d expect from a nocturnal bird. Or so it seems. That you’d be scrutinized you already expected, but this way feels a bit uneasy in the chest. If you’re the mouse to the owl, you want to move on past that door as fast as you fucking can.

You try to continue standing straight and hand him your letter as inconspicuously as possible. Oh, that damn piece of paper that turned your life around. A little ‚good evening‘ barely leaves your throat and Mister Lee presses a button underneath the table top after gazing over the document nearly thrice. Following his insistent eyes, you leave your phone on the table altogether, and now have virtually nothing to hold onto. You opt for putting your hands in your navy blue pants pockets. If that’s any good around here, staying a little hellishly casual. 

‘A very good evening indeed,‘ is what Mister Lee’s eyes seem to reply.

The door shifts open with a dull, booming sound. Very well then. You stagger inside toward what’s hopefully behind it — suddenly feeling so terribly exhausted. Hazy. You don’t know how it hit you. So many scents. Impressions. Movement. Space. Eyes. Heartbeats. 

You try hard to focus on the first candle you can see around, and you do find one, and it does ground you. After their split-second delirium, your feet anchor on the carpet now, and the scenery pulls you back to breathing. Now, the bigger picture becomes a lot clearer. 

There are several men settled everywhere across the room that opens before you so luxuriously. All dressed in the finest of garments and polished shoes, donning the most annoyingly impeccable haircuts on top of that. Everything about this room screams dignity, and haughtiness, and a hefty bank account. 

But you can’t deny another, stronger hunch. The presence of one gentleman in particular sends a chilly feeling down your spine. You can’t tell who it is now. You just know that somebody here is very different. Dangerously so.

Between armchairs, chandeliers, blood-filled cups and side tables, you spot arrangements of night-blooming jasmine and daffodils. Large and opulent, really catching your eye with their elegant trumpet shapes. 

Perhaps, and you really have no clue whether that’s a good theory, to suggest that however solid teak and mahogany this entire interior might be, there is still life and scent in it. But it’s all… so carefully curated. Too deliberate to be authentic in the very least, and that’s what is making you tense up so much. You know very well that nobody in this room, if it weren’t for this meeting, would be preoccupied with flowers. Except maybe Taemin. But he’s half-elven, so that doesn’t count. Elves love jasmine.

Meanwhile, you suspect that the cups with blood were purposely brought in to catch you off guard pretty much right away. To test your self-control, get you startled, or lord knows what. Power games in this club, you’d not be surprised. But the scent really is so overbearing. You become all light-headed. Whatever they set up for you here, it’s already working. You feel like falling asleep in the middle of the damn night. 

The fumes, and the candles, and the daffodils—

„Wong Yukhei,“ a voice finally pierces through the mist inside your brain. 

You perk up. It belongs to a figure seated in the deeper middle of the room. A dark-haired man, noticeably tall and baritoned, with full lips, immense shoulders. In fact, a frame to behold all tailored in matte black. Down to the pointed oxford shoes, laced up in a very brisk way as if someone pulled a corset very tight.

„Yes—?“

„Half-lycan. Club president. Have a seat.“

Now you know why he speaks first.

It’s like you’re frozen on the spot. Judging by how muscular he is underneath that very suit, especially around the upper body, you don’t want to catch a glimpse of what happens when the moon says hi. Half werewolf it is. No wonder his hands are huge like paws. You don’t have to count one and one together to know that this guy could go casual beastmode and rip the room’s door in half.

„A... alright.“

Stammering like a fool isn’t something you planned but comes out as a sheer reflex. To distract from the awkward tone, you resort to looking around. You wonder if the club is in full attendance. Because who knows, they could await some more people like you later on. There are actually quite a few empty seats to choose from. A dozen, perhaps a bit more. Each with a filled cup on a table, right to the brim, one more flavorful than the other.

Since the president didn’t gesture towards any seat in particular, you find yourself having to make an intuitive choice. Whether that’s some werewolfey ‚where does she put up her territory?‘ personality quiz or whatever… is unimportant because your nose is already telling you precisely where to sit anyway. In fact, obnoxiously so. It’s itching like crazy at most of the scents except one. You realize — at least that you can rely on. There’s that one cup you want to be close to. Ignoring it would probably torture you for the entire night so you give into it.  

Taking the empty chair at the chimney fire on the right side of the room comes naturally. And: With several eye pairs resting very firmly on you. But your attention is elsewhere already. The blood in the goblet of this particular table really does smell like the most delicious thing. There’s something magically attractive about the consistency. You can feel with your whole body just how amazingly juicy and welcoming the drink is. For a strange reason, it seems like it’s almost iridescent. You’ve never seen that before. Everyone in the room has the current pleasure of watching you being smitten by a fucking drink.

There’s no way they didn’t see you lick your lips like a first class pervert either.

Whatever first impression you’re giving them, it’s one that makes a part of you mentally run out the door again. Poor Taemin thought you were a promising invitee. You feel bad for disappointing him already. Slave to your instincts, how on earth are you even supposed to sit here in the finest and highest of company. Creating sexual tension over a glass of blood in a millionaire’s club or whatever.

Still, against all odds, the other part of you glady reclines in your seat, sleazy like a retired Russian oligarch on his yacht. Because that means: Smelling that heavenly scent up close. Hell, just fuck everything else. It’s the most gratifying thing you’ve come across. Did they brew you a damn magic potion or something? 

You have a hard time snapping back to the conversation and realize everyone is still intently looking at you admiring your cup as if it’s a prime time television event with Zac Efron in it. Which you now force yourself to break from. Not so gladly this time. You really want to have a sip, but Yukhei’s pressing gaze demands you to make your move. You wonder why his eyes are so livid, but again realize that he probably doesn’t need the moon to be wolf-like, does he.

„So you were the one who came up with inviting me, then?“ you say, and the words come out much more bluntly. It surprises you. Since you skipped the introduction and small talk altogether, maybe your mouth thought, why not strike a direct tone. Just being in the vicinity of something so mouthwatering makes you feel on top of the world out of literal nowhere. You’re about to lose your train of thought again that Yukhei fervently shakes his head.

„It was Baekhyun’s suggestion. A terribly daring one I thought,“ he says. „Thank him that we agreed to meeting you in person. In fact, he was very adamant we’d do so.“

You look around the assembly, hoping to find clarity about whoever prompted the invitation letter. Since nobody seems to put anything forth, you quiz yourself on who of these gentlemen looks like a Baekhyun, and why nobody is reacting. Everyone’s literally sitting there like marble statues. 

According to Taemin, getting an invitation to Club Daemon is not only something that excludes the general public, but also merely a fleeting ‚rumor‘. Not even a neighborhood legend if it came down to it. Because on more official papers, this guild does not exist. Whoever wanted to invite you was indeed taking a notable risk — to the president’s nuisance, on top of that.

Oh yeah. Now you’re at the edge of your seat.

„Eh. I’m afraid Baekhyun cannot meet you in this particular setting,“ Yukhei breaks into a lop-sided smirk. You’re shocked he’d pull a dismissive face like that. So openly, like he simply doesn’t give one damn all of a sudden. Strangely enough, it still doesn’t take away from just how nobly he’s dressed. It’s seriously messing with your head. Or is it the goblet?

„So, this setting, um—“

You look like Yukhei just spoke in a different language now. Stifled laughter among the guild members. At least they’re reacting now. That’s progress. But you’re even more confused and stuff your hands back into your pockets.

„See. Carpets are typically not Baekhyun’s favored grounds. He’s half-merman,“ Yukhei continues, very much composed in his seat now just as before. And it finally registers.

Oh man.

You can’t spot some giant water tank in this room or anything of that kind. There’s no way he could just casually hang out here. Of course he can’t greet you in the club. Sweet Jesus. You have too much blood and flower scent around you.

„But not to worry. You’ll get to meet your sweet benefactor,“ Yukhei leans back, the smirk growing even wider. „Baekhyun can speak to you in the club bathroom from time to time. If he’s not out there playing around in the bays like the kid he is.“

„I see? Uh...“

You shift back and forth in your seat. Even if your brain somehow tries to piece that information together, keeping your eyes off the chalice is so hard all over again. 

You can’t lie, it’s even starting to get you hot and bothered from the toes up. Gritting your teeth is all you can do not to gasp out loud. Literally, you’re one moan away from semi-public indecency. That is, if human law applies to this room. Going by how everyone is so keen to see you react, it probably doesn’t. Your ears are telling you that pretty much everyone is holding their breath right now. Untouched orgasm at 7:30 PM? Wasn’t on your plan either. But looks like you’re headed for it. You wonder if Yukhei has been planning to set you up for this and—

„We didn’t put this up to confuse you, Y/N. Please feel free to drink. We want you to feel welcome here,“ a second, innately friendly voice addresses you now, parting the silence like a vintage knife through warm butter. It’s much softer than Yukhei’s, as if laced with honey.

Immediately, you recognize the sound. It is Taemin.

Seated to Yukhei’s far left in a flawlessly upright posture. Blond and lavish, dressed in a type of brocade tux. It seems to be a mix of burgundy and golden pipings in the fire light, but you could be wrong. With good reason and regard to most members present, the room is kept very dark. In fact, the atmosphere couldn’t be any more controlled. Nevertheless — finally reuniting with him is such a relief. You already want to thank him for averting a full-on catastrophe.

„Taemin! It’s good to see you again,“ you finally break the tension. Your tone loses all discomfort, your face brightens. Taemin gently bows in response. His poise lights up the room, and you even manage to detach from the chalice.

„The pleasure is ours. It’s great to see you again as well.“

You recall. The memory is still so vivid. He was the one who brought you the letter in the late evening. You were sitting on your balcony scrolling through your phone feed and boom. There he was, sitting — even seemingly glowing or whatever it was — in a cherry tree. With his pointy ears and an envelope for you, the exact invitation Baekhyun had suggested. As far as you can remember, he’s been elected as the Club’s vice president very recently.

Taemin explained a lot of the club’s incentives to you on the balcony. Even if you did manage to drop your phone in shock at his appearance, his open approach had you packing up your bags for the mansion in a matter of two days. Seems like the club knows who to send when they don’t want to intimidate possible recruits. If Yukhei showed up in that dark suit and the low brow, you probably would’ve turned into a bat and headed for the forest. Well, or something like that. Meanwhile, Taemin feels like you’ve been familiar for decades.

„Do drink. It is handpicked for you!“

„Thank you, Taemin,“ is all you can say, and turn back to your drink with shaky hands. Finally. And well. If Taemin offers it, it can’t be wrong. It’s far too late to ignore it anyway. You already grab the base of the chalice like you’re holding on to dear life.

The first sip is so hasty, Yukhei almost has to laugh out loud. Or is it a laugh? Taemin frowns right at him, but you’re too busy chugging to notice. Hawthorn, lotus, apples, water lily, chestnuts and vanilla. So many nuances, too little tastebuds and too little words to describe it. You’ve never tasted blood of such a quality. For free. Not one pause to breathe, it just goes down like fine liquor.

Everything in your body starts to feel completely alert. Whoever this blood belongs to, whatever is going on, this is the most thrilling feeling you’ve experienced in a while. It’s like floating inches above your seat. Your face is feeling all heated as if the chimney fire burns your cheeks. Your skin is normally pretty cold and stays that way if you think about it. 

At the same time, you’re surprisingly refreshed on the inside. The blood left a minty trace on the back of your tongue. You know the men are watching you, but you can’t help but ride the high of the taste for a few seconds with your eyes closed. Once the rush is fully over, you slack in your seat. Open your eyes. And sigh out. Goddamn. 

If that means to feel welcome here, then you’re more than convinced. Taemin knows how to serve an aperitif. Everything about your body feels relaxed. You bet your pupils are more blown than Yukhei’s dick in his freetime going by how he sits and watches your reaction. Manspreading is an understatement. Wolfspreading is the new thing. Literally, what on earth happened. He’s glowering at you like you just stole the keys to the glitzy silver sportscar that’s parked in front of the mansion and without a doubt must be his. Your eyes aren’t deceiving you even if the light is so dim: He’s straight-up gotten all angry to the point of gritting his teeth.

But there’s also something that tells you he’s afraid.

„Now, you probably want to know why we’re interested in you, right,“ Taemin gently continues once you put the empty chalice down and make very needed use of the napkin already placed next to the cup. Heartbeat: Speed of a bullet train arriving at a station.

„I’m starting to see why.“

Most of your exhaustion is actually… gone. Out of the blue. You’re feeling much more perceptive, much faster in every move. Maybe Edward was right with his personal brand of heroin. You just never knew because you had 5 Pounds 50 blood from TESCO’s every day until now. So that’s that.

„We didn’t find a novice in twenty years,“ Taemin says. „Nor a half-vampire for that matter.“

In passing, he ushers a slender-looking butler towards your table. Casually, as if he did it a million times already. So far, using the shade of the lighting, the butler had been blending in with a velvet curtain until now. You ask yourself if you’ve actually noticed him or not. You can’t clearly tell which is strange. But then again, going by the course of events until now, not really.

„Right,“ you reply, trying to focus on Taemin — without much success. The butler simply looks too striking. He uses a large carafe to refill what probably measures up to another quarter liter into your chalice. He looks at you with sheer intent, it’s Yukhei’s gaze times ten, almost like it’s bundled into a lazer. Instead of being excited about the refill, you find yourself trying to desperately decipher the butler’s look. It’s not wolfy this time, that’s for sure. It’s something far, far different. It’s something deeply scary.

The butler lingers. It takes five seconds too long for him to return to the curtain. There’s that feeling again. That hunch from before when you came in, so much stronger now. You’re shivering. The man looks so serious in his crisp red suit, with the pin stripes and a golden pocket watch at his lapel. His aura is so freezing cold.

„Meaning, our guild could urgently use a new addition,“ Taemin keeps on speaking, with Yukhei closely listening to how he puts his words. In the meantime, the butler stands completely still in the dark, merging with the curtain almost completely again. But you can tell his eyes are on you. His frame looks so skinny at a distance, but you can tell he’s much stronger than that. Lord knows Yukhei might not be the only one who could break the door in half.

You hold on tight to the napkin in your lap. Where you thought you’d feel elated, you’re all sober now.

„Twenty years is a long time,“ you comment, a lot more dryly this time.

Even in a club where nobody ages by human standards, this could be quite a frustration. Looking around, you begin to understand why the invitation was such an urgent matter and there are many more empty seats. All the members look very established and at home to say the very least. Nobody here appears to be a novice.

„It is,“ Taemin replies. „You can see why we wanted to talk to you.“

„Yes. I can. Thank you for considering me. It was a bit out of nowhere but, I guess there’s no way to do it differently.“

Taemin nods. Meanwhile, Yukhei remains visibly displeased in his center seat, with his expression growing much darker by the minute. You can’t tell whether he didn’t like you downing the blood so fast like a post-diet Dracula or how Taemin explained all of this to you now. You don’t have to wonder for a long time, though.

„That we expand our assembly with a half-vampire out of all possibilities— was not my idea,“ Yukhei taps his fingers onto the lion-shaped armrests of his chair. The poor fellas probably have a hard time carrying his frame, fragile as they look. Taemin, on the other hand, is as nonchalant and petite as you got to know him. Like a feather on his seat, he sways his torso ever so slightly while he listens. Then, he reaches over to pat Yukhei on the shoulder with a wide, reassuring smile.

„But you were still delighted that Baekhyun found someone, didn’t you.“

„You make it sound like a public holiday. Eh, we’re recruiting, Taemin.“

„You didn’t take too long to agree to sending the invitation at all. Back when Kai joined, you needed five months to say yes. And he’s half-lycan himself.“

„Because Jongin was a grade A stupid bastard… and still is,“ Yukhei darts an even lower gaze to a particularly shaded corner of the room. Whoever this guy Kai is, he’s sitting right there and grins his life away. Now that you set your eyes on him, you’re about to piss your fucking pants.

Even behind a particularly large array of jasmine bouquets, his silhouette looks the most powerful out of all the club members despite him not being as tall as Yukhei. Where you would’ve called the Yukhei ‚strong‘, Kai was first and foremost athletic — head to toe, with a looming frame. He’s kept silent for the entire time, but he sure listened well.

„It’s a competition, Yukhei,“ the silhouette crosses his legs, laughing. „Whoever is bastardly enough is qualified for being the club president. Sounds like I’m headed right for it. But you’re also knee-deep. Knee-deep, I’m telling you.“

Kai’s voice is much lighter than you thought it would be, but the way he speaks commands instant respect. Yukhei’s answer is a mixture of a growl and a huff, but it’s so blended together that it’s becoming hard to distinguish to your reeling ears. All you know is that the atmosphere in the room feels like a string ready to snap.

So that’s what half-lycans are all about, then.

In case they’re about to fully out-bastard each other, you take another sip to distract yourself. You hear your ears pulse even more. The blood really is delicious and takes your mind off. To your surprise and relief, Yukhei squarely turns to the assembly with a much more point-blank attitude in his movement now. Kai remains entirely ignored.

„That she’s not part of a vampire clan and we couldn’t find possible members for so long is the only reason she’s here, that’s all.“

„Enough a reason,“ Taemin smiles even wider, and puts more soothing into his phrasings. Kai’s unsettling presence doesn’t seem to faze him the very least. 

„We’d be happy to have you join us if you’re inclined,“ he now addresses you again. „I’m sure our talk about the training and formal things will bore you, though. I reckon you want to be introduced to your kind first.“

„Oh…“

Your kind.

That explains a lot. A whole damn lot, to be exact. You can’t help but suck in air, but it’s less awkward than you thought. In fact, your reaction brings some life into the room. Looks like everyone has anticipated this. Yukhei’s eyes narrow. Kai seems even more alert. You feel like a lab rat new to the cage.

„You felt his presence when you stepped in, didn’t you,“ Taemin asks, his head tilting a bit to the side.

You did. The half-elf looks confirmed in his statement.

„It’s him, right,“ you direct your eyes toward the curtain, but don’t dare to lift your gaze any further.

The butler.

He’s been sticking out like a sore thumb.

You felt him since the very first moment.

„Yes,“ Taemin says.

Your suspicion, or rather, what your body told you from the beginning with every shiver and every fiber, was entirely right: With an interpretation you couldn’t grasp just then. But now you do. Your intuition didn’t lie.

„Ma’am. Pleased to meet you. Lee Taeyong,“ the butler strikes a surprisingly fluid introduction. You freeze up again. It’s very unlike his stiff positioning, stepping forth from his usual waiting place so his face is visible to you in candle light entirely at a bit of a distance. Lee Taeyong. His face… really is sharp.

„I was expelled from my clan 80 years ago,“ he disposes of his tray to speak freely now. His voice is so deep, it almost resonates in your ribcage. But then, you see something vulnerable in him. You don’t know what it is.

„Expelled?“

„You can imagine. They found out I wasn’t full vampire,“ he continues. Now you do see them. His fangs. You should’ve noticed. Damn. „That’s how I got here.“

And now you actually get what happened. Taeyong is an outcast. Looking past his teens, 150, 170 years, a tenth of Taemin’s age at the very least. And he’s half-vampire who’s been on his own pretty much: Just like you. That’s something that still didn’t sink in yet. Your kind. The butler of Club Daemon. 

No wonder he took his time pouring the blood into your chalice and looked at you like you’re some kind of revelation. If the cups in the room smell only half as delicious to him as they do to you? He has admirable self-control just standing there at the carpet without losing his mind.

You shift forward on your seat — as does Yukhei, unseen to you. Almost automatically, your tone becomes more tense.

„So what happened?“

„I didn’t know my entire family history until that point. I was orphaned,“ Taeyong expands, his mimic controlled. „The clan was all I knew. I never thought I could have any demon heritage. Literally any. For decades. Until my father showed up. It was…I didn’t know he was that far up the hierarchy.“

Your jaw drops. He has to be kidding you. That can only mean one thing, there’s only one person he could refer to.

„You met Satan personally?!“

Dead silence in the room. You could hear a pin drop. In fact, an elven hair strand.

„I wish I didn’t,“ the butler finally says. With a more silent voice. You can tell he has to cave in, force himself. „He gave me this.“

Taeyong begins to slowly loosen his tie. Taemin already averts his eyes. The butler goes on to reveal a left collarbone so scarred, you can’t bear to look at it for very long yourself. The tissue has been deeply torn. The bone, presumably broken twice, healed in an odd way on top of that. You feel the pain in the very same spot within your own body.

Taeyong doesn’t have to tell you that the altercation left his arm fully paralyzed. You just know, like you could sense his presence from far away already. Meeting his father changed his life forever in the worst way possible. Now you understand why Taeyong does the butlering in the club — he can keep his left hand behind his back at all times.

„His father rejected him,“ Yukhei says, sterner than ever. His anger has faded, and an extreme seriousness begins to sink his brows.

„It’s that — Neither my clan nor demon folk really want me present,“ Taeyong’s face is even more barren of an expression now. He’s bottled it all up, it’s hard to watch. It sounds like he hasn’t spoken about this for years. „This was the only place I could go at that point. Yukhei was very helpful. I hope you can feel the comfort of being accepted here like I do.“

„I… don’t understand why Satan would disapprove of you so much, Taeyong.“

„Some demons willingly get together with vampires,“ Taemin steps in now, careful in his intonation. „But Lucifer rarely does. And, only when he’s drunk. If you ask him on a normal day, and I know this sounds harsh… he despises most of pure vampires, and half-breeds even more so. He is also Yukhei’s father.“

„He is?!“

Now you’re almost falling off your chair. That Yukhei’s father must be one of the higher-ups in the demon ranks was already a no-brainer, but this —

„Idiot cast me from hell the second he found out I can grow these longer than his silly horns,“ Yukhei points at his mouth, baring all teeth now. Even in their natural shape, they’re already razor sharp, sporting clearly prominent fangs. Even your canines, and those are hardly used and worn down, aren’t as slicing as his. When he says he can grow them that long, you fucking believe him.

„He’s… not been the most accepting dad to say the least,“ Taemin folds his hands in his lap. “And doesn’t stick up for any mistakes.”

„’Cause he’s an insecure ass,“ Yukhei makes a disgusted grimace. „Fucks around and then gets mad at what he’s done. Vampire girls he sure likes when he’s doing one of his stupid orgies. But not the consequences. He’s so easily threatened. That’s almost funny.“

You’re stiffer than ever now, glued to your seat. Not in a million years did you think there was some serious family drama going on behind those fancy suits.

„So that’s why this club exists. Satan can’t handle us,“ Kai adds, kneading his thighs. Looking much more detached, almost demure. You can tell that Taeyong’s speech hit the underbelly of everyone in the room. That even Kai looks so sunken catches you off guard. „We’re half this, half that. I mean look at us. Yukhei and I could never be part of a pure wolves pack. Never. We can’t mingle with demons either. They doubt us in any place. Shitty situation.“

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Now, the double head emblem on the embossed door makes a lot more sense. It’s not just for the aesthetics. Two faces going into opposite directions. Always torn. Always the onlooker, yearning from a distance. Unable to go in either direction. Seems like you’re in the right place. Or the wrong one: Because you bet this assembly is the very eye of the storm.

„Why did Satan not try to attack the Club yet? Isn’t there even a stairway to hell in this house?“ you ask. If Satan got pissed off by Yukhei’s or Taeyong’s abilities, several people of that kind in one place sounds pretty much the ultimate provocation. Installing a designated hell door with smoke all around even more so. 

„He sure wants to,“ Kai shrugs, again, smirking in this very distinct way. He builds himself up again, and the teasing undertone in his voice strengthens back to normal. „But he’s afraid and doesn’t know about half of us. You see… Hellboy has no way of gauging what expects him. Even if he fucking hates us and wants us dead in a ditch, whatever. We know him inside out, too. Even more than he knows us. I’m sure he doesn’t want to face Taeyong now that he’s not young and weak anymore. He only exploits way down the hierarchy. He knows he can win there.“

„Makes… sense. Sort of— preying on vulnerable people.“

That an insecure hell boss is the reason this very club has formed? Seems to be a better explanation than you thought. No way so many species could stick together otherwise. How you’re in a room with two high functioning, protein-powered lycans both standing over six feet is already a miracle. Just sitting there sipping your bloody drink. There’s even an elf guy. That’s some surreal shit, even Salvador Dalí wouldn’t believe it.

„And, um. Saying that there’s a hell door is a joke Taemin pulls on every recruit,“ Taeyong scratches his head now. 

„Everybody thought that Mark was vaping but he actually put up a room difuser down the hall,“ Kai adds. „He’s using essential oils in there since a couple weeks. So sometimes we do have some fog round that area. But there’s no actual stairway or anything. It’s a club tradition... a hoax.“

Your what-the-fuck expression must be hard to beat right now.

„Er. All right then. So much about hell smoke.“

A whole damn prank. Taemin is not as angelic as he looks, is he. Still part demon, after all. It really felt like there was an entrance to hell around when you arrived here. Taemin’s little giggle right now doesn’t worry you as much as Yukhei’s grunting.

„So much about a hoax,“ he growls back. „I wish we actually had that door so I could go beat his ass.“

High functioning, protein-powered lycans with daddy issues. You never thought this club had major drama. Your lips think its time for another comfort sip from your chalice. Blessed thing you have that one. Because all this… got you into something bigger than expected. Eating shrimps on a terrace with some fellow half-breeds on a cozy Sunday evening? Nothing of that kind. Rating Christopher Lee movies and signing up on vampire tinder together just for fun? Nothing of that in sight.

„So, naturally. That we can recruit you is a good feat,“ Kai continues. „You might grow very strong in training.”

“Strong in training?”

“Vampire half-breeds are always up for a surprise. You see how Taeyong is like. He can open jars even I can’t crack. With just one hand. Long as we have a balance of power with hell, the Club is quite safe. Even from my father.“

Looks like what you got yourself into is a Cold War that coincidentally involves people from Down Under — but it’s not Australians.

„Are you Satan’s son as well, Kai?“

Kai shakes his head quite firmly. Just how stark his face structure is becomes visible when Taeyong puts a candle into his vicinity, helping you gauge Kai’s outline much better, which is a bit more reassuring. The butler seems to almost read your thoughts. Your initial shiver gladly has been in decline ever since Taeyong spoke up. And you do believe he can open those jars.

„My old man? Mammon.“

„Mammon? Ugh.“

You can already guess what this is all about. You don’t need to wait a second for Kai to go on a rant.

„He’s a fucker, fucked up, a fucking twat, and fucks around even more so than Satan,“ Jongin kicks his left foot, looking mighty grumpy in the candle light. „I’m sure you know what he’s in charge of. He likes fear and chaos. To say the very least.“

You sure can imagine. Mammon governs the most powerful resource on the planet. Or rather, what people do with it, so… you already don’t have to know anything more than that.

„Talking about him is of no use,“ Yukhei intervenes. „Lost cause, wasted time. What I wanna say is. The vampire clans also don’t know much about us either,“ he now points at you. „That’s our advantage. And the reason why you will have to quit most of your regular life if you agree to be a member. Or take a serum that will make you forget about meeting us. At least, up to the point where you received the letter. I know this is quite a severe change. You can imagine how discrete we have to be. Given everything you heard.“

Yukhei looks dead serious.

Well, alright then. The case is clear. This is legitimate big business.

Club „Most Hated Half-breeds“ Daemon. Outsiders, all of them. The first rule is: You do not talk about Club Daemon. A guild for the All-Transylvanian Rejects, the crossovers from hell gone hiding, the MIB of supernatural creatures. And all just because big daddy Lucifer loves to host an infernal orgy every now and then and never heard of a condom. It’s crazy. So much information intake, it’s time to sort your thoughts.

You take a deep breath, let the blood chalice dance in your cupped palm. Sweeping the remaining liquid at its very bottom, rhythmically. Sweet lifeline. You observe how the drops run as if nothing else in the world existed. And still, you have crystal clear hearing, and your voice is again becoming firmer. It’s the effect of the drink, you can feel it. Such good stuff, really.

„It’s not that I didn’t anticipate it. Taemin said something along those lines when we met. I get why you have to be discrete,“ you hum. Even telling you about the serum before any other information would give away too much. „I’d be back to square one anyway.“

Taemin nods at you.

„We’ll always be between elves and demons, mermen and demons, vampires and demons, werewolves and demons… This club wants to protect anybody who’s caught between chairs. We go to great lengths with secrecy. I hope you will join us in our cause. It’s a new life. Lucas has great plans for us.“

‚Lucas‘ seems to be Yukhei’s club nickname. Taemin appears to confide in him a lot even if he will smooth out his blunders. Meanwhile, you remember how Taemin talked to you about his own parents on the balcony. 

Apparently, none other than Beelzebub is Taemin’s father since over ten centuries. His latest habit seems to be blowing up his son’s phone with strange texts about recent hell politics. If that’s not enough, he asks about what he’s doing all day. It really is a new level of hell-icopter parenting. No wonder Taemin learned to be so appeasing in all situations.

„There are also ways of us finding out who your parents are,“ Taeyong comes to rest his right hand on your shoulder. Carefully, as if asking if it’s okay to touch you. You let him, without much care. Simply by— well, what is it, instinct?

Particularly Yukhei seems to observe this moment with much intent. Monitoring with piercing eyes, wild and deep. Trying to see through you at all cost. Surveying whether you’re a suitable club member, fair enough. But you seriously begin to wonder why he’s trying so damn hard to get into your head. He wants you on his side, sure, why’d he stare like that all the time?

Meanwhile, you don’t even know much about yourself except that you find veiny necks extremely appealing. Duh. So what’s there to analyze. You’re still kinda new to this. Blunt how Lucas is, wouldn’t he tell it to your face if he knew something you didn’t by now?

„At least, your demonic heritage,” Kai finishes the butler’s thought. “It’s not an easy discovery, however.“

Taeyong’s hand really does comfort you. But the thought of involving yourself in family affairs feels more than daunting and spoils the moment more than you want to. It’s something you could avoid until now thanks to simply not knowing much about your background. But apparently there’s no way to run from it.

„You might wanna anticipate that shit,“ Kai cracks his neck from side to side, then adjusts the sleeves of his white camisole. You’re suddenly so very well aware that he can probably see and smell your hesitation from a mile away. „Because when pa from hell shows up to see what’s going on? Preparation is better than being sorry. You gotta know who you’re dealing with. Art of war 101.“

Kai pointing at Taeyong’s battered left side reminds you all the more that lifting the veil is probably better than hoping for the best. If Satan happens to be your dad as well, you’re in huge trouble should he ever find you. Kai is right. Without allies and any knowledge of what you’re dealing with, you’d be lost.

Not to mention that Taeyong and Lucas would be your half brothers. Among probably a thousand other people. You didn’t walk through this door to get instant patchwork family. It would be a whole town of siblings now that you think about it.

If Satan has been even busier than that, which you’re sure of, that could mean an entire nation of people related to you somewhere overseas. Most of them being far from half-breeds. Why? Because Satan still preferred his own kind if he wasn’t completely hammered.

„Sounds like a nice prospect,“ you mumble, arms tightly crossed. Thousands of demons all out for your neck. Joining a notorious club network would certainly hide your identity much better than you hanging out in your small apartment in the middle of nowhere behaving like an average citizen. Glorious. You hate everything.

Which one person, as always, disagrees with.

„He makes it sound more dramatic than it is. Especially in this club you are more secure,“ Taemin softly adds, swiping a blonde strand from his right eye. „You must understand. Kai is in charge of defense. We all have our tasks.“

„Figured as much.“

„We all specialize in something we’re really suited for. Depending on our species, usually,“ Taeyong picks up Taemin’s point, and you begin to understand.

On the balcony, Taemin had even mentioned a gryffin member who worked as the designated club driver. Mister Ten as they called him, who was always out and about for a gazillion tasks. From hell mail to picking up tailored suits to doing the shopping to frequenting hospitals and various butchers for… leftovers.

Taeyong being an older vampire would require very specific blood (type A respectably, whreas you preferred O), and both Lucas and Jongin are in their wolf prime. Kai being slightly older but all the more active by the looks of it. So, just like Baekhyun, Ten seemed to be busy tending to that all the time, nowhere to be seen nor even mentioned. Which was a little… suspicious. 

But the ‚everyone has a task‘ seems to be a big deal. And: Everybody is set up to take their spot very seriously, in their supposed element. Being the VP suits Taemin just like being the butler really suits Taeyong. Even Yukhei, you admit, has the exact leading, head-on personality, although mixed with a lot of tempers, that his position would require. And Kai — his body doesn’t lie. Of course he is in charge of defense.

„We would strive to find out your ideal role in the club, too,“ Taemin says. „Kai thinks about this scenario from a combat perspective, but know that cases like Taeyong’s are extreme ones. We’re used to this but you don’t have that struggle. It’s probably like different worlds at the start but don’t let it phase you.“

You exchange looks, and Taemin gives an empathetic nod. His face is really gentle. It seems trustworthy. Again, you notice how his diplomacy helps you the most right now. It’s a bit cryptic, but it’s the type of classy conduct you were expecting to find in the club. You’re damn glad he’s here. Half-elves simply have a different kind of wisdom.

„I guess,“ you look at Taeyong. „It’s an extreme case because he was part of a clan, right, and I wasn’t.“

„Smart,“ Taemin takes up a porcelain cup from his own table and guides it to his lips. It appears to be some sort of elven elixir inside of it, light blue and sparkling. Maybe that’s the source of his maturity or something. „This is exactly the reason how so much conflict was possible in the first place.“

„Right.“

„You grew up with adoptive parents after your mother’s passing. It was unfortunate but also a hidden feat of luck later on,“ Taemin balances the cup between his elegant fingers. „Nobody from hell could find you. You didn’t show many abnormal traits. Nor were you close to any clans that fostered your abilities or spread the word. But especially the former. You grew up in human ways. Your abilities weren’t worked with.“

„Which we can do for you now if you want to,“ Taeyong clears your table off the empty goblet. Instead, he puts a booklet with a red ribbon around its hard cover just there. „In a more covert way that doesn’t arouse any attention.“

„Can we really do it so secretly?“

He really did read the concern out of your face all over again.

„Yes,“ Taeyong emphasizes, then directs his gaze toward the fireplace. „For any half-demon, half-vampire, this is the place to develop herself. We want to honor both sides and work with it. As good as we can.“

„All other approaches usually fail because they’re one-sided,“ Taemin raises his tea cup indicating towards a thoroughly disgruntled Yukhei. You get what the elf wants to say by that.

Yukhei — another extreme case, perhaps the most severe. From a certain perspective, you can imagine how being antagonized by his father and wolf packs at the same time would motivate Lucas to run a club like this. And what would motivate him to act like this, anyway. 

Leading Club Daemon with a velvet gloves approach? It’d be more dangerous than an iron fist mentality. Although it feels so clear to you, past the nebula of the blood cocktail, that Yukhei completely turned this aggressive style into a hyperbole. But you never know what or whom he’s doing it for.

Even at such a young age. You are convinced he really can’t be anywhere near 30 years of equivalent human age even if his height and way of dressing makes him look so settled. His overall presence on top of that: Whatever training they have to offer, it must be compelling.

At this point, you can only say to yourself — fuck everything. And lords knows the whole club is green of envy. No wonder they’re staring at you like that. You grew up so unbothered, your life is a joke compared to theirs. You were ignorant about way too many things about yourself. Looking at how everyone here embraces their origin, not developing your abilities was a full-on heresy.

„I’m actually considering it,“ you browse through the booklet, directing all attention in the room at you so keenly. Taemin sits at the edge of his seat himself. The paper feels luxurious between your fingers. As a first page, the name of who assembled the booklet’s contents is printed in bold. Mark Lee, conscierge, Club Daemon. 1999 edition.

The text details several time lines, diagrams, and fact lists about vampire-demon halfbreed history, on top of outlining a program featuring traits that a club novice could develop. 

Sprouting and care of demon wings. Usage of blood banks. Defense against crosses and garlic. Cities with high vampire populations. Types of claws. The culture of hell. Demonic Spells. Battle Gowns. Impact of ‚Twilight‘ on public perception of Vampires. Symbolism. Vampiric Reflexes. Christopher Lee Movie Analysis. Avoiding Exorcism. Communication with hell hounds. On Hunting and Forests. Fist-fighting Lucifer. Evolution of Ancient Vampire Dress Codes. Fang safety. Hierarchy of hell. Nutrition. Choosing a castle. Strength development. The list is nearly 200 bullet points long.

And the majority of training, it states, is supervised by Kai. Even the lessons on Vampires and Sexual Relations. Other lessons are conducted by Taeyong and Mark, mapping the more theoretical contents.

Most of the listed training units feature things you never knew you could possibly try let alone perform. Some lessons are even more vital than you thought they would be. Things your apartment life wouldn’t have to offer in the very least. At this point, walking out the door would be a grave mistake for an entire variety of reasons and you trust your instinct. The only thing that makes you bargain is not the elephant — but the big and bulky alpha wolf in the room.

What to do about Yukhei. 

Given the hardliner choice between serum or a complete new existence, it’s a question you’ll have to postpone. Interestingly enough, even though he was lycan through and through, Kai doesn’t bother you nearly as much anymore after the initial shock effect faded.

So what is it about Lucas. Even more things you’ll have to find out, then.

You’re nervous with the booklet in your hands, but you can’t complain. The two cups of blood in your system have given you more courage to look the four of them in the eyes.

„Considering what: Joining for the cause or the heritage?“ Yukhei crosses his arms at the solar plexus. His eyes are so probing on you, but you keep your head straight. You very well know that he’s testing you with this one.

„Both. And I want to know my role, too.“

The president seems to ponder for a bit. Then, he hums. More placid than before, you note. He actually seems satisfied with that answer.

„Then let’s start out,“ Kai rises from his seat alongside Yukhei, and both walk towards the red curtain in big strides. Taeyong sweeps it to the side, revealing a heavy door to another room.

Unlike the rest of the house, or at least the parts you’ve seen so far, this area has no embellished walls or ceilings. Not a spark of luxurious colors, either. No dark materials, no curtains, no dutch paintings, just concrete everywhere. It looks heavily worn, but strangely, doesn’t seem to be a relic like the fireplace room’s wooden tiles. All lighting is purely artificial. It seems part gym, part studio, and all furniture is solid metal, minimal, angular. You’d never expect such a modern, plain grey room to be anywere around the house. It smells like a damn hospital in here.

„Our training grounds,“ Kai paces around the area, clearing it and turning a knob that seems to activate floor heating. „The second safest place in the manor.“

„What’s the safest one, then?“

„We have a bunker downstairs. Flood-proof, radiation-proof.“

And Satan-proof, you don’t have to guess.

„Oh wow.“

„It’s unused so far when it comes to catastropes,“ Yukhei roughly pulls off his tux jacket and hangs it over a steel chair. Given how he stretches his arms, you figure it’s to gain some mobility. Or… to show off his huge build to impose his authority and intimidate you which surely is working. „But we do run it as a makeshift jail.“

„You’re keeping criminals in here?!“

„If you’d call Kai a criminal,“ Yukhei raises a brow.

Now you understand. The bunker is actually not meant for somebody else unless the situation calls for it.

„You’re isolating yourself during full moons.“

„You got it,“ Kai nods. „Nothing gets in, nothing gets out. Two days. I got used to the cold down there. And Yukhei locks himself in here with a pile of meat.“

„I…see.“

So that’s why the concrete walls look so damaged despite not seeming that old. If you look close enough, it’s actually not hard to imagine how there’s massive strength and claws at work here. And there must be plenty of things to desinfect afterwards. Hence the hospital smell. 

But then again, Lucas is not the one who gets put in the bunker downstairs. If that one is the safest room, Kai is in all regards the strongest. Which makes sense given his task here. But something about it makes you shift from one foot to the other. If Kai has to jail himself in an atomic prison, what a fucking beast are you even dealing with?

So this is with who you’ll train with, then.

„Nothing you’ll see anything of,“ Taemin clasps his hands, bringing your mind back to the image of meat piled up all over this room. „The member’s private rooms are way up on the 3rd floor. You’ll be situated there as well, in whatever free room you choose. They are very pleasant suites. The interiors are selected Victorian antiques. It’s not like around here.”

“Thank you, Taemin. That sounds great actually.“

“And— we can always predict their transformations without failure.“

„The suites have steel doors as well,“ Kai adds on. „Easy to lock from the inside. We’ve had centuries to think all of this through.“

„Reassuring…“

„Mind you. In case you feel you get a bad craving, you’re doing the same thing Kai and I do,“ Yukhei re-ties his left shoelace, foot placed on the metal chair like a 6’0 Napoleon. „It’s not like we aren’t the only people who have to protect others from ourselves.“

You don’t like the tone he’s striking and try not to look into his direction. As if you’re some crazed vampire lord with a body count and not a bloody amateur. Whatever cravings he’s talking about, it’s hard to imagine how you’d go absolutely buckwild on a concrete wall whining for blood.

„With half-vampires, well… It can happen,“ Taeyong helps Kai pull off his jacket as well. „But lycans still have to take more prevention if I may add. Simply because their whole being transforms and they’re gaining unexpected strengths from it. Vampires hardly do. Our strength is present always. We naturally learn how to deal with it each day. Lycans have exponentional and way more erratic powers in a shorter period of time.“

Now that puts it into perspective. You exchange a thankful glance with Taeyong. The butler gives a composed smile. Yukhei sees that and huffs. Looks like someone’s been projecting.

„We’re dealing with threats from the outside, better check the ones from the inside,“ Kai says, shrugging. „We can’t change that we’re aggressive species but we can lock a door ten minutes before shit goes down. Early risk detection. That’s gonna be a lot of what you’ll learn in the programme anyways.“

„Pragmatic, I guess,“ you scratch your chin. 

And he’s right. There’s nothing else the members could possibly do. Unleashing someone outside of the manor into the surrounding woods sounds like an overall bad idea. There’s a town somewhat nearby, fifteen minutes down the road. And as a matter of fact, you’ve never heard of suppression pills for half-demons on the market. Each species would need a different concoction: Tailored exactly to them in a long chemical process. Given the variety of Satan’s harem, that equals pure scientific madness.

Yukhei cracks his neck, puts the steel chair back in its spot. „We hope so. What reasons you’ll have to lock your suite for we’re about to find out.“

Three minutes later, you’re face down on the center table of the room, Yukhei pulling off your blazer. Even if you thought it would be much more unceremonious, he seems to do it rather slowly. In the meantime, Taemin rings a little silver bell. The sound is shrill and obnoxiously piercing. Seconds later, the concierge enters the room with a clipboard, introducing himself fully now. 

Oh shit, you almost forgot about the owl guy.

„Mark Lee. Bookkeeper, treasure master. Half-goblin. I also do our finances.“

Joining the club officially unlocks a whole new level of information, does it.

„Bookkeeper, I see?“

„Yes, we do keep a secret chronic.“

„Oh, alright? Spanning for how long?“

„Older than this house. I’ll introduce you to the archive next week, in fact. Welcome to Club Daemon, Miss. I’ll be documenting the findings of this test.“

Then, he turns to put down your phone on another table. First you missed it, now you don’t even care. Mark’s sudden appearance has you all wondering. He’s different now. Maybe his initial silence was very much connected to the exact level of secrecy Taemin has been talking about.

Mark comes across much more high-spirited when he talks, and his face appears youthful once it comes into motion. You give a little ‚mh’ as a rather distracted reply, and he begins a lightning fast scribble on his board, using a golden pen that looks like it’s worth your apartment.

Meanwhile, Kai’s interest seems to gravitate entirely to your shoulder blades. He goes about tapping the skin and muscles surrounding the bone, even pulling down the backside of your tanktop by an inch, causing you to hold your breath. He circles the spine, presses too fingers in at either side. He’s surprisingly subdued, but still quite hands-on. It’s not hard to feel that he has experience with examinations like that. In fact, Kai has the touch of a modern day chiropractor. Whatever you should think about that you don’t know yet.

It makes sense he’s in charge of all things physical. And — that the first thing he’ll do is get your wings to grow and work, wherever they may be inside your back right now. Lord knows what kind of reflex or trigger is needed to make them sprout. Mark, in full haste, keeps on checking off boxes on his board and hums, cocks his head every now and then.

Yukhei only seems to care for another area altogether. He holds up your ponytail to take a closer look at the back of your neck. You glare at him for pulling at your hair more than you thought was needed. Taemin volunteers to take up that task instead, with Yukhei going on scanning the nape. His hands are so large and grip at your shoulders, it feels like you’re some kind of prey being handled. Taeyong has no problems reading the discomfort on your face and clears his throat, prompting Yukhei to slack off at least a little.

„It won’t be anything painful,“ Taemin says. „We’re looking for any birth marks to appear.“

„Birth marks?“

„It shows up when other demons or half-breeds are around. It usually gives away who you’re related to. The color and shape show which rank your demon parent had. Not to worry.“

You chant a little thank you, Taemin inside of yourself as a way to keep yourself together and nod.

„Yukhei and Taeyong have large black markings that resemble a lighting shape if you will,“ Mark now speaks up. „Taeyong’s is so noticeable, he always wears his hair past his shoulders. And Yukhei mostly uses a high white collar.“

How fitting. You didn’t expect anything else if you’re honest.

„So I should cover it as well, right?“

„You shouldn’t tie your hair up this way so it can be seen,“ Kai says. „You can be glad it hasn’t alerted anyone yet.“

So… that’s why Yukhei did not seem to be very happy with your ponytail. You’ve been utterly reckless without even knowing. If there was someone who didn’t think it was a tattoo, you could have caused some major issues. But before you can apologize, the president already shakes his head.

„Well. You can keep that silly hairstyle. Because there’s nothing on that neck where there should be something.“

„What?“

„Not one mark. I’ve pressed every spot, there’s nothing. The birth mark should be visible already anyways since we’re here. Our presence activates it.“

Commotion. Yukhei lets go of your neck, Taeyong begins inspecting the area very hectically instead, joined by Kai. Mark seems to be in the most confusion right now and gnaws on his lips.

„But Baekhyun clearly said she has demon descent!“ Taemin interjects. „He sees such things the best!“

„Baekhyun… Little fish only wants her here because he has an eye on her,“ Yukhei grits his teeth, looking like he’s ready to kick the steel chair into a corner. „Swims around and invites anybody he fancies long as they have some decent fangs.“

„Yukhei!“ Taeyong cuts right back.

„I knew something wasn’t right,” Lucas keeps shaking his head, now seeming even more convinced. “Not a drop of demon blood in her.“

„What are you saying!“

Taeyong’s stoic face is turning livid now. You never thought he could turn this angry.

„Stop kidding yourselves. Get the serum, Taeyong. All that jazz we’ve been doing… I’m fucking tired. I told you it wasn’t my idea to invite her.“

Yukhei curses an entire string of very canine-sounding things under his breath and Taemin tries to hold him by the shoulders. The whole room feels like it’s about to explode. Taeyong doesn’t look like he’s ready to comply in the very least. Instead, the butler starts baring his fangs with a defiant snarl. Mark shouts out loud.

„Don’t—!“

„Are you deaf? Get the serum, bloodsucker! We’re not playing around anymore!“ 

Yukhei begins grabbing Taeyong by the collar. His eyebrows start to become fuller, and his teeth begin to crack, growing rapidly. Taeyong, eyes turning blood-shot, fastens his left hand behind his back. He positions himself to bring forth a powerful fist about to shatter right through Yukhei’s face. Alongside Taemin, you struggle to get up and reach them in an attempt to hold them apart. But before either of them can strike out—

„Wings! Her wings!“

Exclamations from all sides. Everybody turns to Kai. Panicked, he rests his hands just inches over your kidneys. Mark screams, loud enough to make Lucas shift his attention. Meanwhile, Kai gestures everyone back to the table.

„Here! Look here, now!“

Incredulous, Yukhei lets go of Taeyong’s suit and jumps right beside Kai. He pulls up your tank top to expose the lower back completely. Mark drops his board and pen. Yukhei’s hands roam all over the area that Kai mapped out through the fabric. And yes. Now you’re feeling bumps there, too. A painful tear pools at the bottom of your spine. The adrenaline of the situation didn’t make you realize.

„They… they’re unusually low,“ Mark chops his words, eyes wide and crouching behind Yukhei as if petrified.

„That means they’re large,“ Kai puffs out. „Look at the color, too. White, grey. They’re spotted in red. I’ve never seen anything similar. As if they’re bloodied.“

You can’t believe your ears, wind on the table. „Spotted wings?! What’s that about?“

„It’ll be even more visible when they’re spread. They’ve been hiding really fucking well down there,“ Kai says. „It’s very unlike any wings of ours. And I can’t get them out, all we did was locate them now.“

Great. You have special snowflake wings.

„Really?“ you’re pretty much staring like Mark yourself now. Kai affirms.

„It’ll take a trigger event that sprouts them. I don’t know what yet. Too early to say.“

„But what does the color mean, then?“

„Our wings are all some kind of… well, auburn. Neither Satan’s nor Mammon’s children have colorings like this. Only Taemin’s are blue.“

„But that’s regular for elves,“ Taemin adds.

A churning knot of panic seems to grow inside your gut. The fact that Yukhei keeps on groping about your back is starting to tug at your nerves as the cherry on top.

„Why, why are they like that? What is this?“

„Y/N,“ Mark inhales sharply. „Please calm down, we only—“

„And why are you touching me like I’m some kind of science object? Who am I?“ you shout at Kai and Lucas, prompting Taemin to slowly pull away both their wrists from the table. In this moment, you could jump either of them.

„I’ve, I’ve only heard of one case with such wings,“ Mark begins, but ends up choking up a cry. He’s shaking all over, takes his glasses off. „If you… turn her around…“

Yukhei doesn’t have to be told twice.

„So her mark is elsewhere? Isn’t it? She’s from a different family altogether?“

Mark nods.

Lucas swiftly flips you on your back. You can’t even blink and you’re already watching the ceiling with five faces right up close above you.  

„Let Taeyong do this,“ Taemin begins to urge Yukhei. „Lucas, you shouldn’t touch her now.“

That you need Taemin’s words for Lucas to hold himself back is starting to bother you. Him just grabbing you by the hips and turning you around felt more than strange. You imagine how in his mind, you’re probably a sizzling steak in a pan that he wants crispy on both sides and you don’t like it. One thing’s for sure: You’re not here for being werewolf dinner. What the hell.

What’s been on your mind even more is that Kai is not even half as annoying despite being so full of protein himself. With his chiropractor hands all over you on top of that. Is it that they’re from different families? Wouldn’t you dislike Taeyong as well then? He’s from the exact same corner of hell, after all. What exactly makes Lucas so pushy to you keeps on preoccupying everything you thought of until now as a bottom line. It’s not like you can ask him directly why he behaves like an asshole.

Three minutes pass. Lucas has stepped back from the table, watching like a hawk. A bit more composed, Mark picks up his pen and clipboard. He still can’t concentrate on writing. Taeyong gently probes each of your legs and ankles, even pulls your shoes and socks off to look at the underside of your feet. Finding nothing, he moves on to survey your wrists by smoothing over them, sending Yukhei an evil eye for grinding his teeth. Looks like someone doesn’t like others touching your soft spots.

Kai watches reactionless, seemingly deliberating. He’s in a different headspace, you can tell. Taemin helps Mark with ticking off boxes on the paper. Taeyong turns your jaw to either direction and slightly upwards to inspect the underside. He glides two fingers over your temples, and also asks you to open your mouth. He counts through your teeth with his digit and moves your upper lip to look at your fangs. Taemin emits a large ‚wow‘ when he does, and Yukhei growls out loud. Kai looks visibly interested, although he still seems to piece something together in his head.

„Extremely durable and angular,“ Taeyong says. „I’ve never seen this shape.”

„Me neither,“ Kai props up his palms on the edge of the table.

„Nobody in any clan I knew had fangs like that. Not even the elders. They’re so sharp… it must be inconvenient often,“ Taeyong requests a measuring tape from Mark who pulls it out of his left suit pocket.

„It is. Shreds every toothbrush,“ you mumble.

Taeyong glides his finger all across your gums above both canines, pressing on the root of each tooth. It seems to get a nerve inside your jaw going, and again your breath becomes shallow. He measures, dictates the unintelligble results to Mark. For some reason, you find whatever he’s doing strangely pleasant. Meanwhile, Lucas has been prowling around the table with a heavy gait. You adapt Taeyong’s method of sending him eye daggers.

„Can you put your story-telling on halt? This isn’t some vampire underground bar at Friday 12 PM,“ Yukhei grunts back at you and Taeyong. „Just say whatever the fuck this means. Shouldn’t you search for the birth mark?“

„Can’t quite tell now,“ Taeyong, sounding rather absent-minded, goes on counting through your teeth each. He’s feeling about like it’s a box of jewelry. 

Beside being an obvious difference to what your mostly human high school mates sported — if you could call them that, high school makes everyone inhumane — you never thought your fangs were anything out of the norm. There weren’t many people you could compare them to in your small home town in the first place. You only saw vampires on late night TV at best.

There’s a strange tingle that spreads across your body now. It’s unusual having someone so comfortable with your teeth.

Your first and last boyfriend headed right for the door when it came to kissing. As if stung by a hornet almost, a complete change of mind. Meeting you at a festival he thought the idea of dating a vampire was „pretty sexy!“. He paraded you around at his birthday party two weeks later, you thinking he was actually proud of you rather than only himself.

You later realized that he just wanted to appear like the bravest guy in the world. To gather his guy friends complimenting him on the ‚spicy catch you got there!“. And maybe, you suspected, also making the female guests compete for him with some one-upmanship towards you. If he needed you to attach any value to himself, what value did he have himself to begin with? It still feels like a bad decision because you said yes to someone like him.

He liked the exterior, but doing the actual dating with all that it entails he had seemingly underestimated. It’s not like you expected him to use any tongue or try a blowjob. Why would you?  Doing that would always be a stupid idea for both. Did he think you would purposely hurt him? Or did he just leech off everything he could get until he had to be responsible and deal with limits? Crazy vamp is what he last called you, and you never heard from him again. No texts, nothing. Does your pussy have monster teeth, too? Just go back to your cave or wherever you came from.

„If you forgive me saying so. They really are pretty,“ Taemin chimes in, then urging Mark to note something down. You take a moment to realize he means your teeth. Mark seems to have a lot of trouble snapping out of his daze at first himself, but begins to immerse himself in sketching and documenting after a while, ruffling his hair like a mad scientist. Lucas regularly gazes over his shoulder and you can tell he’s one grumpy wolf.

„We can show you how to keep them in shape and do a proper bite on someone who agrees on it. But you probably even tried something along the lines, right,“ Taeyong says, and Kai nods, probably wanting to say the same. It seems to be nothing out of the ordinary going by their expressions. But the question makes you more nervous than you actually want to.

„Honestly, I… didn’t bite anyone so far,“ you shake your head, unable to meet the eyes of anyone at the table. You hate the feeling of shame that kicks in almost by itself.

„Come on folks, that’s the first thing you smell about her,“ Yukhei boldly announces from his wandering spot around the dumbbells. 

Way to go. You realize how comments like that are exactly why you’re so nervous. He’s already acting holier-than-thou again.

„I only ordered cheap blood online,“ you try to muster a shrug. Acting indifferent is at least helping you to say literally anything. „All legal but artificial.“

And disgusting, but that’s another story.

„Not hard to tell either,“ Yukhei laughs out. „Takes a blood virgin to down a whole liter of the real deal in five minutes. You were staring at that cup like you’ve gone mad. The difference to cheap blood is quite intense, isn’t it? Wanna see your face if you get a willing neck for the first time. Priceless.“

Something coils up inside of you. Eye daggers aren’t enough at this point, are they.

„Don’t get rude, you dog… Do you like spying on others or what?“

„Come on, come,“ Taemin steps in, ushers Yukhei towards the steel chair.  He leans in, speaking in a low tone to the president. „Little more tact and privacy with a novice. Your dad would thoroughly enjoy this.“

„Would enjoy what?“

„Us creating discord in the club without him having to do crook a single hoof.“

You’re starting to think that ‚Vice President‘ means nothing but ‚group counsellor‘. Fine by you, but Yukhei has been rubbing you the wrong way from the very start. That he tried to attack Taeyong and called him names isn’t something you’ll just ignore. You’re growing increasingly more tense. That there doesn’t appear to be a way to take matters into your own hands is even more frustrating. 

„I think… there’s a reason you’ve been living a more isolated life than most vampires,“ Kai interrupts your thought as well as the ongoing banter, trying to strike a more rational tone. He returned from his thought process, ruffling the long hair at the nape of his neck.

„Okay—?“

„See. Most half-breeds with the same father will find each other. Almost automatically. Look at Taeyong and Lucas. And all vampires will get picked up by clans, their scouts. But in your case… I think you have been purposely avoided. By both clans and demons.“

„What does that mean now?“

„My theory is, I… I suspect. Your father,“ Mark looks up from his clipboard, „is someone who hasn’t exactly been Satan’s ally.“

„My dad is — some kind of, Lucifer’s enemy?“

„Maybe. It’s likely. So, the clans would use to trust your father lot.“

„Does that make any sense?“ you frown at Mark, who hastily continues. You still don’t get why that has something to do with how you grew up completely uninvolved in clan affairs.

„His affinity for vampires was much higher on top of that, unlike Satan.“

„Get to the point!“ Lucas taps his feet on the concrete.

„I, I think that’s why you were born,” Mark carries on, pushing up his glasses. “He got together with a vampire. But he has been mingling with a lot of arch angels as of recently as well. Your father, I mean.“

„Okay? But how would you know?“

„The reasoning is this,“ Mark reads from the clipboard. It seems like he has been working on some kind of theory. „The clans don’t like the archangel’s power nor their politics. And the angels don’t really like us as a club either. Simply because we’re half-demons and have offsprings of Satan among us. I know that’s, that’s really complicated, so—“

Whoever Mark means in all of this word spill, your father is evidently a huge trainwreck already. Who’s against who now? It’s all so hard to understand.

„That all doesn’t sound very good,“ you grumble. „Are you sure your theory holds true, Mark?“

„It all sounds like he’s pulling that out of thin air,“ Lucas says. „Angels and whatnot. That’s some random bullshit.“

The conscierge looks rather overwhelmed with your question and can’t quite get a word out at first. Taemin encourages him with with a little supportive eyebrow raise.

„What I know is. By the signs your… body has. We have to keep you safe here and build your strengths at all cost. Because something’s going on,“ Mark eventually continues, earning strong approval from Kai.

Then, Mark addresses the president, much more fragile in his voice, but still secure in his judgement. „Lucas. If we give her the serum, Satan could someday get her if he musters up the courage and the helpers. Which I think he will. That won’t end well in any scenario. The club is in danger. Do you understand? Putting her out there is a bad idea and she doesn’t want it either. She wants to be a member and that’s instinctively the right thing at this point. Baekhyun happened to spot her now out of all times with good reason, I think.“

Lucas seems to ponder back and forth now. He props down on the steel chair with crossed legs, palms in the back of his neck. He looks genuinely concerned for the first time. You find yourself starting to nod along to Mark in the meantime. You like when he speaks like this. 

„Thank God you’re here then, Y/N,“ Taeyong says. „It’s important you get to know more about yourself. It creates a lot of chaos otherwise. For you the very most, unfortunately. We have to admit that joining the club probably makes it worse. But we can’t know what would have happened if you never found your way here.“

„Yeah, I guess.“

„Your heritage is probably much more… controversial I would say. I hope you don’t take this to heart too much,” he continues. “We’ll still have to find out more. But it’s something else we’re not accustomed to so excuse any crudities.“

You can imagine. If your dad is yet another person having beef with Satan, and there’s even people from heaven involved, things are bound to get icky.

„So, where is my birth mark, then?“, you exhale, voice growing with an acute panic. „Do you know my father’s name or not now? 

“Um...“ Mark stares at his own feet.

“Is all of this a fraud? And what can be more controversial than having Lucifer as your dad?“

Taeyong and Mark are looking at each other far too awkwardly not for you to notice. Kai crosses his arms and sighs out.

„Come on, you two are suspecting something. Tell us.“

All attention is now on Taeyong and Mark who are a puddle of sweating embarrassment.

„We have to… Well…“

You feel like a patient about to receive the most embarrassing surgery. Yukhei roams around the table murmuring and fuming.

„What is it now? What are you avoiding?“

„…pull up the shirt to see the birth symbol,“ Mark spouts in one go. „It’s located in the middle of the chest.“

So here’s the reason for all that tiptoeing and stuttering.

„And I thought you’d need my period blood to paint an ancestry sigil or something,“ you roll your eyes right at Mark who looks like he’s sinking into the ground right before you.

„That’s actually what we wanted to do next,“ Yukhei licks his fangs. 

Taeyong, as if lightning struck him, immediately kicks him in the back of the knees. Everyone turns their heads. Judging by Yukhei’s awkward, reaching step forward and no signs of retaliation, Taeyong has some serious leg strength going despite being so lithe. You never thought you’d see his butlery composure begin to crumble either.

„Stop making weird jokes. You’re a dog just like she said.“

Taeyong’s tone is so cutting, Mark breathes out as if he was the one getting kicked.

„Technically not wrong.“

„You got what I wanted to say, Lucas.“

„Can’t hear you mumbling through your stupid old fangs, brother. I’m fucking proud of being a dog.“

Yukhei does an even more obnoxious werewolf-brand wink that makes even Kai cringe a little. Taemin looks like he’s slowly dying on the inside. 

While they’re all continuing to throw out retorts, you cut the debate short by pulling up your tank top. Must be the courage from getting your teeth praised.

Today’s braless day, but anyways.

Mark immediately starts crouching again, and Kai’s mouth drops wide open. Taeyong collapses right on the floor. Taemin buries his face in his hands.

„It… It is as dramatic as Kai said!“

„What is it now? Can’t you guys handle some breasts or what.“

You look down on yourself. And— soon freeze as you see the large round marking right on your solar plexus. Red as blood and crudely outlined.

„What the fuck is that!“

You get goosebumps. The mark has never been visible before. Whatever work Kai did on your back pressing all sorts of points, it must have activated not only your wings, but also this particular spotting. It appears to be shaped like a medal emblem, depicting a snake and a centaur or whatever creature in bold zigzag shapes.

„The sign of King!“ Mark shudders through his tears. The temperature in the room seems to drop, and the scent of jasmine smells like rotten coal. The sign glows red and large on your chest, and not even Yukhei is looking at your breasts now.

„We’re so fucked, man!“ Kai pulls at his hair. „What are we gonna do!“

„Wait! Wait, what is this!“ you pull at Mark’s suit, urging him to speak on. He can’t properly gather himself the very least.

“I can’t say—”

“Tell me, Mark! What is this sign!“

„Be, Before Lucifer… became the prince of the underworld. It was like this.“

„Like what?“

„There was a King who ruled the 9th circle of hell. For over a million years.“

„Who is that guy? He’s my dad?“

„Yes. He never left. That was, until Satan overthrew him after being cast from heaven. The King purposely decided not to come back and expand his influence elsewhere. He’s now a free-walking spawn of hell. The guy who’s technically… actually the boss. Satan is just tolerated but The King has the actual powers. You can guess… look at how large the mark is.“

„I am the King’s daughter?“

„You are,“ Mark contines. „The daughter of King Belial.“

He can hardly pronounce the name without everybody flinching.

„He’s the original guy in charge,“ Taemin bends to help pick up Taeyong, who’s breaking out in a cold sweat. Whatever is glowing on your chest, it’s something out of the Club’s league and that thought alone drives an equal sweat on your face. Belial, you’ve only heard that name sparsely, somewhere, and you knew hell had kings, but you didn’t know it was a very real tale.

„Satan was expelled from heaven for his pride,“ Kai picks up Mark’s point, but his voice is just as shaky. „So he took on hell and drove out your father after a decade-long war. And, plenty of tricks, dark magic. The King first settled in a radical vampire clan who thought he’d be the ultimate weapon to get back at Satan. And Belial thought he’d had an army now, too. But the arch angels also took interest in the King for that same reason. They wanted to fight Satan, too.“

„Didn’t Mark mention the angels earlier? What’s going on with them?“

„They don’t like vampires, so they lured the King away from the clan to only collaborate only with them.“

„So there’s a triangle going on!“

„Belial hasn’t really retaliated or done anything since then, but we’re thinking that he’s plotting something big together with God,“ Kai continues. „Against anything demonic that they set their eyes on. Not just Satan.“

Your head is spinning. Now God’s involved in this shitshow, too. It just gets worse with every new thing you find out.

„The foe of my enemy is my friend. That type of idiot logic,“ Yukhei says. „And Belial was stupid enough to fuck a trash vampire in the process. And you… are the result that we have to deal with now.“

„As if I can help it! You shut your mouth!“ you jerk up to lash out at Yukhei, but Kai steps in between you. He’s as fast as he is strong, and an impenetrable wall you can run up against all you want. And Kai isn’t foolish, either. He grabs you by the shoulders with extended arms to keep your fangs as far away from him as possible. All Yukhei has to do is step back.

„Stupid— because that got your mom killed,“ Kai says, teeth gritted, but sounding much more sensible than his stance suggests. „You gotta understand. Satan wants to eradicate or silence anyone associated with Belial. To avoid a revenge and losing his position!“

„Then you’re right that he’s a prick…“

„My damn words,“ Yukhei shrugs behind Kai, adjusts his tie. „Now put your tits back and sign Mark’s form, you’re part of Club Daemon without further notice anyways.“

„Wha—“

„Now listen closely madam,“ Yukhei burges past Kai to build himself up above you.

„I’m not gonna say this a second time,“ he throws the blazer at you, and you awkwardly catch it. Kai steps out of the way to let Yukhei step even closer to you. The grit in his eyes is too commanding, untouchable. Mark backs off against a wall, and even Taemin gives up on stopping Lucas. Only Taeyong lingers close behind the president, surveying his every move.

„Since Satan is an illegal worm on the throne and the King prefers to sip ambrosia with God, you happen to be the only legitimate heir. The literal, official ruler of hell. And as we saw, giving you the serum would cause even more trouble. You might even get used against us or yourself. You get me? We have enough trouble and craziness with all this! Do you understand that? From now on: You’re doing exactly as I say.“

„Why are you the one to declare all that now? Yu—“

„No objections. Training starts today.“

————————

„Your wings are so nice,“ Baekhyun smiles, turning twice in his bath tub. The water gently rises, bringing some foam to the corners. If you squint a bit, it actually sparkles. You’re feeling laid-back with the scent of fragrance sticks and candles lingering in the bathroom now. Tangerine, a bit of lemon. A pocket-sized music box strums away on the sink. The melody is foreign to you, but it feels nostalgic and welcoming. There are almost a dozen shell-shaped metal soap holders all around and pointy quartz clusters frame the two mirrors on either side of the room, creating an endless loop of reflections. Yours excluded, which always seems to amuse Ten even if he’s already used to it from Taeyong by now.

A snugly dim lightbulb screwed into a large pink lamp shade right above you spreads some warmth, as does a fluffy carpet underneath you. The vapors of the room become visible as little ascending particles in the light and you wonder how hot the bath water must be. Unlike the chairs in the main hall, the one you currently sit down on cross-legged is meant for comfort solely. A pink and poufy 50s relic, put there specifically for you since it’s Friday.

„Ah…Baekhyun. I forgot you see them for the first time,“ you settle, while he turns again. You find yourself laughing at how cutely Baekhyun spins. That this is the way mermen express their excitement and adoration you learned only last week.

„And, your fangs have grown so big!“ His cheeks are bright and giddy, and his tail glistens from all the soap he tossed around in the water for almost half an hour now.

„I’m on my 50th day of training now.“

„Ooh, that’s so impressive! You’re doing great for sure!“

„I don’t know if I do. But there are some results at least. Kai made me fight Yukhei with bare hands and they came out,“ you wriggle your either wing, and make their tops touch the ceiling. Ever so slightly, you don’t want to break anything around here. Baekhyun’s little bathroom paradise is too carefully assembled to pull any stunts in here, and it’s your Friday night safe haven for long talks and even watching movies on Mark’s tablet. Now, it doesn’t take a lot of stretching to do so in the first place. At this point, wearing your wings out this way is starting to feel natural, even if the way that they shift your balance is still new. They are red-white and stringy, feathery, and spotted just like Kai had predicted.

„He was in his full form, right? You’re really brave you did this.“

„It’s a strange thing sometimes. It’s like I followed an impulse.“ you say, shrugging a little. „I guess — Blame it on instincts.“

You really hoped he would buy that dodge, but it’s a futile try.

„Hey, I mean it. I’m proud of you. Really.“

You push a few hair strands out of your eyes. He’s not going to let you off the hook until you admit it, or maybe it’s only you so fearing to say that, and making it so awkward that he notices.

You don’t want to bare yourself but also don’t want to leave him in the dark about how much his words have been building you up over the last few weeks. It’s almost been two months since you first saw Baekhyun on Mark’s video call, discussing where to relocate the club chronicles after a shelf randomly collapsed. Even a fraction of him on screen made you hold your breath.

Maybe it’s because a whole lot of your ancestors were — although surely snobby and even aristocratic — so bite-first-talk-later and rather reserved folk staying in the shadows that accepting or never doubting flattery is hard for a vampire of your generation. And maybe it’s time you muster up something else than either extreme end of that aristocracy or that terrible shyness.

„Thanks for your compliment,“ you stare at the tips of your fingers that clamp around your knees. „Matters a lot, okay.“

Baekhyun props up his head on the edge of the tub in response and looks at you all blushed. He’s playing with the blue crystal penchant around his neck, and his light purple hair falls into his face in wet little waves until he shakes it. The strands are so thin and plush, they prop up all dry again so fast, as if by magic (which it likely is). His cheeks are so glowing when they’re rosy, you notice every time you see him, but today even more so. To the point where, and you feel it in your gut, your confidence becomes so shaky all over again.

„But don’t praise me too much,“ you say. „It’s only doing what I’m supposed to do and what I’m made up of, I think. It wasn’t that hard.“

„Not as hard as defense against crosses and garlic, isn’t it?“

„Damn right, that was something ese,“ you nod. „But there are much bigger problems.“

„Is there something that preoccupies you as of lately?“

Baekhyun blinks a few times with a falling smile, and you contract in your chair.

„I feel like… It’s so hard to say.“

„I won’t hold anything against you, okay. I just hate seeing you preoccupied night til dawn. That’s not right.“

„It’s…Yukhei is treating me like some kind of tool. Just fostering me because that means a hybrid demon sits on the throne of hell. It feels too much sometimes. Like I have to dance to the beat of his track all the time, you know.“

„I’m sorry. Lucas can be really zealous. I hope he’s not demanding too much from you.“

„Or… training me like a machine. I’m really not a dog’s toy. I don’t think that’s what made my join all this. I don’t have as many problems with my heritage as with the way he takes so much control. It’s… one-sided. And I feel like I should be above that already and just do my thing anyway.“

Baekhyun’s expression sinks even more now, but there’s also something single-minded in it.

„As long as you truly wish to take that position in the 9th circle, you can do as you please,“ he says. „Look at how strong you are. I don’t even have to tell you that. As I know him, Yukhei wants to protect his kind. Including you, that’s why he trains you so hard and wants you to have influence. I know it’s an ironic thing. That you have to be his subordinate now to be his superior in the future. He sees himself as a founding father, so he coaches us. His strict ways are not for everybody.“

„I guess,“ you shrug. It doesn’t sound illogical to you. Having a half-breed in charge of hell would raise the status and safety of Club Daemon immensely, and Yukhei does behave like the club is his child. „I just don’t like it when he uses his position too much without caring about how I want to go about it. I know I’m new to this, but I still have preferences. And the training is for my sake, he’s the one who emphasizes that the most but it feels like it only serves him. Telling him that is like, like— talking against a fucking wall, I don’t know.“

„That doesn’t sound good. I think that you inspired a lot of respect in him. Lucas is afraid of many things.“

„I feel that.“

All too often. When he trains you. At dinner. During any hand-to-hand practice. And especially: On Fridays, where he is tense all day.

„That the pack order is so wired into him doesn’t help. There’s always only superior or subordinate to him, he doesn’t know anything else. The social order of vampires is less defined than that.“

The roles, the hierarchies. You often find Mark talking about it.

„I try to understand it but our ways are so different. I don’t know what it is. Yukhei should know that vampires aren’t responsive to this alpha thing the very best. And I don’t think anyone in Belial’s family for that matter.“

You’ve seriously been wondering how Lucas was donning his big bad wolf attitude. That he was intimidated behind all that jazz would come as no surprise to you. But this type of explanation would be too… simple. Too easy, for all those intricacies, the weirdness of his behavior.

„If you look at it from what he does rather than what he says. He spends a lot of time developing your skills and puts all of his energy into the project,“ Baekhyun’s gaze drops from yours now. „To be honest… I’m jealous of him.“

Now that makes you swallow hard. It implies way too much for you to process right now.

„I don’t, I don’t think he likes me,“ you vehemently shake your head. „Or at least not in a way that feels good to me. And that’s what counts. He’s making me grapple with hell hound holograms and box with Kai until dawn under his supervision. I’d rather be here and discuss with you. It’s really valuable.“

„Ah… thank you.“

Now that you’re on a roll, saying it is easier.

„I’m really glad you were the one who scouted me. I really wish I could be here more often. And, you put a lot of effort into this. You think it’s just talking but it’s important for me.“

The last part you say with a much more subdued tone, but it doesn’t lose its meaning to Baekhyun. That he looks flustered is an understatement. He wriggles his shiny tail and it actually changes its color to light pink, matching his flush.

„You know, it was more of a coincidence. I was counting shells at the beach, I saw you coming out of a pharmacy at the quay. I haven’t told you that, have I?“

Back in May. A very breezy, sunny late afternoon.

„Taemin said something along those lines, but not in detail, no.“

„You had these huge sunglasses on. And so much sun screen. And a big hat. You came out with six packs of iron supplements and cranberry juice in a transparent plastic bag. I couldn’t quite believe it.“

„You really saw it that clearly?“

„Merman eyes can see even in murky water. Kai has trained me to read people at any distance on land.“

„And how did you see that I’m part demon?“

„You had a crop top on.“

What?

„I mean. Come on. That half-vampires like crop tops is clear to me. Taeyong is wearing them all the time. But don’t other people do that as well? Isnt’t that a little—“

Baekhyun starts giggling.

„The sun was hitting your back while you were opening the lock of your bicycle. I could see the wings folded underneath your skin.“

„Oh man,“ you puff out, reclining in your seat. And you thought he was going for a reach. „Okay, I get it. I hope nobody else saw that.“

„It can easily look like some kind of tattoo,“ Baekhyun shrugs. „At least someone who has no idea about demons wouldn’t have realized anything. And it was only visible for a split second since you weren’t standing upright.“

„Okay… that’s good I guess? Just me walking around in a crop top at the bay. Nothing suspicious going on.“

You’re ready to chastize yourself for being so careless, but then again. Arguably, you don’t have eyes on the back of your head. And on top of that, it took someone as trained as Baekhyun to discover your sleeping wings showing in a matter of one blink or two.

„It’s likely that your wings only started growing this very year. I really need you to realize. This didn’t happen in twenty years. I was never as fascinated in my entire life, I—“

And by saying that, Baekhyun’s pupils become heart-shaped, and pretty much everything else about him turns bright red. The hair, the tail, the lips.

Oh.

Looks like you’re starting to understand why Baekhyun didn’t just casually mention you to Yukhei to send out an invitation, bar half-breeds being a rare occurance and highly sought for by the club.

„I called Taemin with my shell phone right away so he could inform the club,“ Baekhyun stutters on. „I’m sorry we’ve been observing you that way. Many half-breeds don’t know that they are.“

„You didn’t do it to hurt me,“ you shake your head, gather yourself, and take Baekhyun’s hands in yours. They’re so pretty and slippery. „You don’t have to apologize. It’s been a lucky coincidence.“

He saw you in the right moment and it decided everything.

„I’d not be here without you, that was very needed,“ you add. „Lost and found, you know. I gotta be the one to say thank you.“

Baekhyun firmly squeezes your hands and looks you deeply in the eyes, even more so than before.

„We’re the ones who have to say that,“ he says. „We didn’t have many good prospects before you. Maybe we can have a better chance being half-breeds in the future. Don’t think of yourself as Yukhei’s chess piece. That takes away all your importance. I think he’s trying to tell you that, too.“

„Maybe. But just know that if he’s so invested in me the way you say, I couldn’t reciprocate it.“

You look down, retreat your hands. Baekhyun reaches out of the tub to cup your chin upward very gently.

„This whole werewolf-vampire feud thing,“ he starts in a low tone. „You don’t have to buy into it. It’s not good for our club’s unity.“

You cast down your eyes. „I know.“

„If we fall apart, that makes us very vulnerable to the outside. It’s important that you stick together, and… he really likes you.“

„Baekhyun—“

„You have an easier time with Kai, right. If you approach Yukhei the same way, that… could be beneficial to your bonding.“

„Bonding?“

You don’t like where this is going. All of your alarm bells are going off right now. There’s cold sweat starting to stick to your shirt at the back of your spine.

„It’s kind of an unspoken codex,“ Baekhyun sounds much more understated now, his eyes become droopy. „If there is a female half-demon with claims to the 9th circle, a mate from the guild may accompany her. But it has to be someone from the upper rank.“

„What!“

„Yukhei is the highest in our hierarchy... He might become your consort. He said to me he’d be ready to do it.“

„Yukhei as my mate? How do I know nothing about that!“

The shock in your voice makes Baekhyun rolls up in the bathtub and his tail turns into a lifeless green. You’ve never seen him so small.

„Because… because he can’t say he likes you.“

„I beg your pardon?“

„It’s all bound to happen because of his status, and yours, and— As I said, it’s an unspoken law. It doesn’t really matter if he confesses or not.“

„Are you kidding me now?“ you jump off your chair. Your wings knock over a ceramic vase in the bathroom cupboard right above the sink. It comes down splintering. „Why on earth does Yukhei push me around like some political… genetics… preservation tool!“

„It, it is not the intention—“

„I don’t want to mate with Yukhei! Not because he’s the president, not because I need some fitting husband apparently, not because he spends a lot of time with me, not because of his money or because he cares a lot about preserving half-breeds, and especially not just because he likes me.“

„You— You don’t?“

Baekhyun’s eyes are wider than when Mark first saw your spotted wings, well-knowing he was dealing with a more delicate subject of the chronicles. But this was something that would turn the annals of the club upside down entirely.

„We’re not compatible. Not in the least,“ you frown. „Did you assume I did?“

„Of, of course! I mean in your position, who else would come to your mind? It’s such a given from both of your sides, I didn’t… even think about it. Please, I didn’t want to offend you!“

You settle on your chair again, fold in your wings. Cross your legs, lean back. An overbearing feeling of depletion makes your whole body ache.

„You know. That’s the thing with tradition. Nobody thinks about what they actually want. They just follow a program to satisfy some stupid custom. To soothe their ego, their morals, I don’t know what. But that leads them in the opposite of being satisfied. Because it’s against their real wishes. Doing away with quite a few traditions without causing much damage would be entirely possible, wouldn’t it.“

„I think traditions do serve someone,“ Baekhyun shrugs. „Many people.“

„In this case, only one person. Hint: tall lycan man who wants to fuck me. And take me as a wife which I didn’t even know until now. And how would I if he’s yelling at me about putting away my tits as if I’m some chunk of trash.“

Baekhyun stutters, decoiling not one inch from his position.

„Didn’t he do that in front of others?“

„Yeah, but why are you asking?“

You can’t help but put some sharpness into that reply. All that mating monkey business is reeking of bullshit.

„Lycans are, well you know it. Really possessive. He wants you for himself, he… he’s affected by your body. Everyone can see that. So, everyone automatically thought he’d just, sooner or later make a move on you, you know. You’ll be exclusive to him.“

„You really think that Yukhei is territorial over my fucking tits.“

„On the outside he was acting grumpy that it was a half-vampire coming to us out of all races. But he sent out Taemin with the club invitation letter in a matter of a day. The fastest he ever wanted to get someone to join was when I scouted Ten as our chauffeur. Ten had all the qualifications and he’s half-harpy, they get on with lycans very well, but Yukhei was deliberating for two weeks.“

You shake your head.

„He sent it out because the club direly needs extra manpower, a new element, whatever, that’s why. He literally said so.“

„Yukhei ordered to send out the invitation only when I told him that you’re a good-looking… woman.“

You’re gasping for air. Can this get any worse? This has got to be a bad joke. It sounds like Yukhei literally wants to own you.

„Is he— that desperate?“

„He’d not mate with any full-lycan or half-human half-lycan, or humans altogether,“ Baekhyun shakes his head. „And how could he, he’s the president and protector of the only demon half-breeds club there is. Anything else would be out of character.“

„So me being in need of a mate because of all this heir thing… serves him well and he’s already planned all of it and treats it as a given in the club. All behind my back.“

You could rip out all your hair at this point. You curse him. This dirty, sneaky, cunning wolf guy.

„From his perspective, it makes sense. Nobody else in his shoes would do it differently. He didn’t mate at all yet. We respect that he will take that only chance because he has the last say, you saw that. If a lycan runs a club, we go by lycan ways.“

All you can do is plant your face on the edge of the bath tub and puff out a deflated noise.

„So I’m the only fuckmeat in sight. To get rid off his virginity.“

Oh God, no. This has got to be a terrible dream, even the club’s chronicles pre-1689 aren’t as tragic.

„Yukhei’s instincts are going crazy since he reached maturity. Kai already mated earlier in his life and takes Beta status. I guess that’s why you get along a little better. But with Yukhei… he’s so depraved, he’s even ready to mate with a half-vampire.“

„I saw how hostile he can get with Taeyong…“

It still pains you. That Yukhei would go at him with full fangs and claws even if Taeyong is so severely marred was a punch in the gut. You don’t doubt Taeyong’s strength, and you saw he was ready to defend himself properly and resolutely. But it showed a lot of true colors and you thought about it for many nights.

„Exactly. That he said he’d be your consort tells you how much he needs somebody. He’s even ready to bury the rivalry and also contests anybody of your race. Taeyong is competition to him.“

„Jealous possessive alpha looking for a trophy,“ you bury your face deeper in the enamel of the tub edge. „Baekhyun. I fucking swear. You’re giving me even more reasons not to get with him. He’s even dragging Taeyong into all of this.“ Taeyong, who made you feel so at home and comfortable with being half-vampire. Who was very open with you and had exactly the integrity and dedication and utter class a club member needed to have. A confident, quiet strength and rolemodelship that you could always look up to.

„So talk about unity,“ you grit on. „And I’m only tolerated to Yukhei. If I’d be a guy, he would’ve sent me an invitation after like 5 years, wouldn’t he? Yukhei cares a lot less about halfbreeds than he pretends. How would I get with this guy if he’s such a mess. Never ever.“  

„You actually wouldn’t?“

„Come on! If that’s not clear at this point. No degree of Yukhei wanting me means I want him. Man, what the—! He’s planning my life as if it’s his factory. He’s making chaos out of everything.“

Hell, Yukhei must be more than insecure if he reached that level of entitlement. And you only get to hear it from Baekhyun? He’s not just insecure, but also a coward. Just how much he’s living in his own bubble is hard to fathom.

„But, it’d be an honor for you to be with the president. Is there a reason you don’t like him back?“

„Baekhyun. I don’t give a fuck about his arranged marriage thing. He has no respect. I want someone else.“

„I mean, I… You’re free to choose from the assembly. You’re the Queen of Hell. You can do whatever you want.“

„Apparently not.“

You cock not one, but two brows right at him. Baekhyun seems entirely confused. It’s so strange to you how he doesn’t seem to catch on in the very least. Yukhei really must have threatened the other club members. Nor does he seem to take your role seriously in the very least.

„Is there someone you want to mate with, then?“

„First time someone ever asked.“

You straighten your posture and tap your fingers on your knees. Admittedly, you’ve probably picked that one up from Kai.

„The guild accepts any of your wishes. It’s just a recommendation or a tradition that—“

„Yeah yeah. A dumbass expectation. Disguised as some… guideline. And everyone’s parroting it just because Yukhei is the boss. I don’t like that, okay. I’m not on board with his personal agenda. Because it’s shitty. Full stop. I’ll shove his bonding schtick up his ass until it comes out of his ears.“

„Ah, I, I see. I get it now.“

„Understand, Baekhyun. Rules have to be adapted to the benefit of those they concern. Are we agreeing on that?“

„That’s only logical!“

„So you get that I have someone in mind that I want to have a consort. That person is not Lucas. You see that the benefit would apply here, that, you know, I mate with that other person instead.“

„Sure! Do you need any help with selecting somebody? Wouldn’t Kai be a perfect match? You’re both so strong! Or Taeyong. You have great chemistry! Mark is very impressed by you, too! Haven’t you seen how shy he is?“

You want to sink into the ground on the spot. It just goes on and on. Man, you need a 500-year coffin nap with extra dust and spider webs and no garlic in the radius of ten kilometers.

„Baekhyun, you, you are… God damn…“

You can’t say it. You can’t.

„Always glad to help,“ a bright smile lights up his face once again. His tail turns back to a very familiar turquoise.

And just when he decoils himself to his full size—

It happens.

„Ah! What was that!“

Baekhyun begins to jerk up and winds. You panic. The surface of the bath water colors with red almost right away. He grabs his tail in pain. You dive either hand into the tub to pull up his tail.

„It’s a splinter! It fell inside the tub!“

„From the vase?!“

„Yes, it’s, it’s…“

„Are you okay Y/N? You look different!“

He seems more shocked about that than the fact that he just got pierced.

„It’s…stuck here. I’ll pull this— out and… and. Very carefully, and…“

Your hands work on their own. There’s nothing in your mind that has to direct them. The piece of ceramic is easy to remove from his scales, nor is the cut too severe at all. It’s not even two fingers long. But he’s bleeding. He’s bleeding. It’s unbearable. You mindlessly cast the splinter into the sink and look at your hands, and the water, and his tail.

„Are you really okay? It really doesn’t hurt a lot!“

„Baekhyun,“ you slide forward from your seat and linger at the edge of the tub, facing him. „I can’t take this shit anymore. Please.“

„Oh my god. Your eyes are going red! Should I call for Taeyong? You’re looking really sick!“

„Don’t you understand. How, how are you not seeing it,“ you clutch at the bath curtain, dizzied, and it’s like you’re seeing double. Baekhyun tries to keep you upright in his arms that wrap tightly around you. But your head has lost all its stability, tipping way forward. You’re face-to-face, forehead-to-forehead with him now, a frantic, salivating mess. Your lips feel so swollen and pulsing, it’s hard to keep them pressed together at all.

„I’m… I’m not sick. I’m not. Hush— Listen to me now, Baekhyun. I don’t want anyone else’s blood. You’re the one I wanna mate with. I want yours. And not just a little bit of it.“

Open mouths. You gape at him, he stares right back. You’re already expecting him to call for Kai to drag you into the serum room. So much about Club Daemon.

To your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, he begins to blink like he just heard the most incredulous news, pulling away from the embrace. He looks at you in earnesty.

„Why didn’t you just say that right away?“

Baekhyun turns the brightest shade of pink all over yet. „I never thought you’d like me back this way.“

„Really?“

„Of course…“

„God,“ you laugh, „oh God.“

„And who said you can’t drink all you want from me? That’s literally what I was gonna offer—“

You are already shoulder deep leaning into the water with your arms grabbing hold of his tail. Some of the water even gets into your nose and it’s terribly soapy from Baekyun’s shampoo, but saturated with enough blood to knock a tidal wave of adrenaline right through your system.

This is the freshest and warmest you’ve ever had it. It’s feeling like a shark in the water. The lithe red clouds wavering through the tub loosely clinging to your face and lips makes you go weak in the legs. It tastes sweet like actual candy. And it’s so, so… familiar. Being surrounded by all that cherry pink water is better than a coffin nap and no garlic pizza combined. This is way too good. You can be glad your air is running out and the wound begins to close behind scales getting back into order.

„Wow! You can hold your breath for a long time,“ Baekhyun gasps when you surface.

„I didn’t,“ you cough, and take two minutes to gather yourself.  But not exactly because of that much water getting inside of you. Rather, the blood is showing its very effect already. „The wound should be fine, um,“ is all you can say, but Baekhyun only smiles in reply.

„Oh? You don’t look full in the very least.“ he swipes his hands over his wet neck and pats it. „Try it here!“

Oh please no, not the patting and the slapping. It brings all the best veins out, oh fucking no. But he continues to do just that. At this rate—

„Can’t guarantee I’m not getting really horny.“

„Huh? If you’re not I’d be worried. Didn’t you say you want to mate with me?“

„Well… yes.“

„I’m just really honored, I need a little moment.“

„You don’t have a problem with me just… vandalizing your neck?“

„Isn’t that what it’s for? It doesn’t suck itself.“

Baekhyun, with the most innocent little expression, continues just as before kneading into the sides of his neck. His long… tan, glistening piece of art neck. You probably look like a starving wet poodle preying for a bone, and then there’s him in the tub, sparkling like a water god with his beautiful cherry hair and droopy brown eyes.

With every smack on the side of his neck, your pants squarely decide to get a little more soaked. Maybe because it sounds like you’re already fucking. Maybe because his neck is bursting with everything a girl needs. It doesn’t suck itself, huh. And your canines are in best shape because you floss them twice a day just like Taeyong said. Uh oh.

„I’m so sorry I… I think I’ll tear you up.“ Why does it have to be so long and throbbing. His smell is turning your brain inside out and back again. „God Baekhyun, you’re tormenting me.“

„Hey, not fair! That’s your job,“ he’s pouting again, and probably begins to realize he’s been doing more prep than most porn stars nowadays because the kneading stops. Without much further ado, Baekhyun squarely beckons you to climb into the tub.

„Are you really ready—“

„Don’t worry, Taemin is great at cleaning the tiles. He actually loves doing that.“

„I want to make this enjoyable to you, Baekhyun, so…“

„I don’t know, you don’t have to please me or anything,“ he shakes his head. „That you like me is already overwhelming enough.“

„A bite is serious business. I still want you to enjoy it like I do.“

„If you want that. Just, just do it harder,“ Baekhyun wriggles himself up, pinker than ever. „If we’re doing it unprotected… I want this properly.“

Finished off with a shy smile. This guy is making you go times more nuts than the first raw blood you had in that chalice. You start to understand what Mark really meant by recently mentioning how Baekhyun’s parents gave him „A certain inclination“. A well nymph and Asmodeus, demon of lust, combining? That could not possibly create anything less than somebody so enticing.

„Baekhyun, always tell me if I should stop, I, I try to rein myself in, okay. You’re too delicious…“

„My veins stop swelling, just bite already,“ he sways his tail, keeps on rubbing into in throat again with his flat palm. „Just don’t worry. You’d have a hard time draining me. You saw my body just heals itself fast.“

„Yeah. Merman thing. Mark said that.“

„You can also fuck me if you want to.“

„Baekhyun, you really don’t have to offer yourself just because my body is going crazy.“

„But I’d really enjoy it. How aroused are you?“

„In all honesty… Bram Stoker novels level horny.“

„I’m not gonna leave you like that.“

And something in his tone tells you that Baekhyun has it all figured out.

As much as your wobbly legs permit it, you get into the tub more or less elegantly. You already want to apologize for mounting him that way, but Baekhyun squarely sits you down on his crotch with his hands on your waist. That his wrist and knuckle veins have gotten the word does not go unmissed by your tunnel vision. All those pulsing underarm serpentines… leading your gaze upwards, and more, and more. Up, up, until you cannot rip your gaze from his puffy little throat. Baekhyun lets out a content little hum and lifts his chin. You really get the full damn view.

„Sorry teeth, I’ll devirginize you. No more blood oranges,“ you babble to yourself, and you can tell your brain just switched off all inhibition. You never thought you’d be slurring your words about what types of emergency fleshlights you use, all in a bath tub with a merman. „About time I pop my cherry boy.“

„Exactly right,“ Baekhyun proudly huffs, and leans back. With his Adam’s apple bulging out his throat even more, you lose all trains of thought and just grab him by either side of his head. You sink your teeth in as far as the power in your jaw can drive them, and going by how his pulse is beating inside your ears, you drilled them in pretty damn hard. Oh fuck. Beginner’s mistake. A huge gush comes out to spritz against the back of your own throat, and you almost pass out from the incredibleness of the taste.

It’s too much at once. You’re hanging by a mere thread. All your body does is follow whatever its instinct dictates. Grabbing Baekhyun by his hair is all you can keep track of, shoving your teeth right up his throat again all dissipates in a blur because your entire mouth is dripping full with him. He’s moaning so loud right now, his neck vibrates along.

„Yes…!“

You don’t want to be a weakling. And, get yourself to swallow for the first time — but then. regret it right away. His blood melting down your esophagus is like a liquid marriage proposal on the Eiffel tower. You don’t know where the noise comes from, but the birds are singing. Once it’s down your stomach and pooling there, you’re already high as fuck. Grinding erraticly all over Baekhyun’s more than steel hard boner that parts upward through the scales of his crotch. He’s really giving you all the best things.

You bury your whole face in his neck. No more neatness. All you do is let your tongue loose and drag your mouth all over his face, and his chin, and his lips, and his jaw, and all of his neck. Every angle, every side, every nook and cranny until your mouth is bursting full with all of his sweet-tasting sweat and pinkish blood that has thinned out with the water dripping from his gills. If it wasn’t diluted, you’d probably forget your own name.

You melt your teeth into his pulsing skin. A vibrant image opens before your inner eye. You’re getting visions of the beach and you as seen through Baekhyun’s eyes. And then— Baekhyun from an outside perspective, swirling through the water the moment after he saw you walk at the quay for the first time. Singing so beautifully, your ears are ringing and you never want to hear anything else.

His blood is all over your lips and chest, your training print shirt. You admit you’re tempted not to ever wash that thing even if Taemin politely asks you to or Yukhei calls it crazy. You want it to be as sullied as a white shirt can possibly get. What must be your eleventh bite in a row gives you a particularly big shot right to the tongue. It’s so much, Baekhyun’s blood starts running out of your nose, only to get back onto your lips that suck up all that candy right away all over again.

Being all drenched in Baekhyun’s nicely bloodied wonder shampoo water and your own horny leaking shit at the same time, your pussy is double wet and way, way too ready to get stuffed up with all that merman dick. You never thought that he would be any larger than your thumb, but you’re mistaken.

„No wonder Yukhei has been keeping you outside the club so often.“

„You can have it as often as you want, eight times a day, I’ll manage to be there, don’t worry.“

It’s so stiff and glides into you so easily, you groan out loud and loose a whole portion of blood from all that open mouth. It sprinkles over Baekhyun’s little nose and lips, and makes his way down to his belly. The scent is turning your brain upside down. You find yourself hooked on his nose, sucking and licking it with your pussy reaching the meaty base of what’s all the way inside you now. All the precum he’s leaking into you is taking its time, but comes down to cream you up when he starts moving. Really smudgy thrusts from below, several big fat fillings from above that you can have your fun gargling on the back of your tongue. Baekhyun knows what makes you happy. You squeeze every bit your can get out of his throat and plunge your teeth inside of him far enough to feel his vocal chords vibrating during his moans. You don’t wanna damage those. So you decide to switch things around a little and slip off his cock. It’s grown a lot inside of you and peaks out the water still brimming. The whole tub gets a taste of soapy foam mixed with Baekhyuns semen and lord knows how much delicious red cherry juice that you’ve been milking out of him. Oh god, you feel like cumming. You turn Baekhyun underneath you so the back of his head comes to face you, and you bow down to violently bury and seesaw your teeth in his nape like a lion shaking a little prey animal. His little helpless moans are so melodic and out of this world, you do notice you forgot your own name. Well, he can tell you afterwards so, no problem. For now, you made him completely yours. You don’t miss how Baekhyun didn’t reach down to get himself a hand but has grown even harder.

Going by how much he’s been begging you to do your carnage on him, and you’re tempted to ask him, you know for a fact Baekhyun would probably fanboy like mad and ooze his cum all over the place if you broke his neck altogether, but you decide that’s probably way too edgy for now. And too much, hello. His body can heal anything in a matter of five minutes, doesn’t mean you have to challenge it with a clean snap during the first time. That’s a schtick for the later fucks, maybe a birthday. Just when you find that what you’re doing with his little nape all between your jaws is way too sick for a novice, a string of tiny „please, please, please!“ noises spurs you to sink in deeper and even work your tongue just like it’s a french kiss.

„Oh woah, ah! Do it, do it more!“ His pleasure screames and demands for roughing him up leave no second for a pause. At this point, you’re just digging in and he’s all the way close to going off like a bomb. Taemin doesn’t just have to clean the tiles alone, there’s gonna be sperm everywhere. Probably even as far as the door, and that one’s all opposite to the bath tub and four meters away.

Now that you’re so snugly penetrating with your fangs pierced in around his spine from either side, you notice how Baekhyun has successfully corrupted you into a sadistic freak. The more blood seeps into your mouth, the lewder your slurping gets, and the tub water has long gone from pink to very crimson like it’s the type of apples Taeyong loves to test his fangs on pretty much daily just for practice. You swallow again, and this time, a wave of Baekhyun’s sexual fantasies crashes down on you.

Looks like since you’re closer to his central nervous system, you’re tapping his entire stream of thoughts. However this works, it’s giving your pussy severe missing-cock-disease. Drinking and swallowing repeatedly makes the visions even more vivid. The images are so vast and animated, you can hardly keep up. His face, buried between your thighs. His tongue, dragged all over your legs. You riding his tail like it’s thighs. A big gush of semen between your breasts. You slobbering blood all over his cock and making good use of its protruding veins. Images of you cumming and screaming his name. Baekhyun screaming even louder because he can. Baekhyun sucking his fingers and you licking his wrists clean. Baekhyun cumming inside you and everything bursting right out because holy shit, that’s a lot.

You want his dick and properly connect to his lips for the first time now, so you ease your teeth out of his nape, much to his protesting. You cave in and give him another bite, and make it brutal so he begins squeaking and gasping that he’ll cum. Now that you have him there, you can venture a second try and turn him around. Because you’re afraid of blowing up the second you sit on his cock again, so you start with his lips.

Kissing Baekhyun is all you expected and even more than that. Even if you’re so saturated with his blood that your taste buds are on fire, you can still clearly taste how sweet he is. Everything about him is so delicious and he’s so cute. All that pleasant taste and the gentleness of his tongue has you riding up and down his cock in less than a minute. Busy like a New York high rise elevator. Gentleman he is, Baekhyun retorting with his own thrusts feels nothing short of whipped cream consistency fucked into you with a headspin-inducing mega girth. Where he mustered that one from, only Neptune knows.

Since the entire water is ripe with his blood, that can’t go without pumping some of it into you. You’ve never found yourself horny all over your period even if the scent does make you tingle, but now, somebody else’s blood squeezed into you? Your legs feel like doing somersaults. You’re probably asking for too much, but you hope your walls soak it all up, his pre-cum included. Hell, if all that mixture shoots up in your womb, you’d probably be on a permanent high for one week. Who would have thought. This giggly little merman has turned you mad and lawless.

It doesn’t take for very long that Baekhyun’s tongue has been wrecking a havoc of pleasure between your fangs and has started bleeding after deliberately giving himself a small little prick with them, you want to get bursting full with his cum now, you can’t wait any longer. You lost your breath so it takes a few seconds until you can verbalize it, but when you do, Baekhyun doesn’t take even half a minute to have you pussy bubbling with a particularly scented load of deliciously fertile semen.

It’s such a huge amount, you have to hold onto his upper arms. Baekhyun breathes like he’s curently swimming a marathon, and has his eyes closed to concentrate on giving you the best to the best. What makes you moan is just how wildly his cock is throbbing and pumping against your cervix, that girl has never seen an avalanche of white stuff like this, she’s so lucky she gets to see this up close. Baekhyun has sunken so deep into his orgasm, he’s starting to mumble some kinds of magic words. Which seem to be directed at keeping his dick hard and keeping the cum flowing just like that.

„Shit, I want that in my mouth,“ you promptly decide, and pull your all-loaded pussy off, causing leakage all over the water. You turn to prop his cock between your lips, and Baekhyun makes it no secret that he won’t hesitate sucking his creampie right out of you. So while you’re busy sliding your tongue up and down all that veiny shaft, Baekhyun glides his nose and chin between your slippery pussy lips. The stimulation of his tongue has you twitching and stuffing his cock even deeper until your mouth is nothing but filled except a few remaining spots.

His cum is all fizzy in your mouth, it’s the most addictive thing. You decide that all that vanilla ice cream needs a juicy strawberry sauce to top it off. You do exactly what Baekhyun’s steamy fantasies displayed to you. That you lock your horny fangs deep inside of Baekhyun’s cock and squeeze him out by the liter for sperm and cherry milk is already having your eye lids flutter because you’re that stoned. Not to mention that you will smell like candy to the lycans and certainly also Taeyong for at least a whole month.

You’re the farmer, he’s the maple tree, and Baekhyun’s blood the runny, sugary syrup. The mix with his semen tastes like you bite right into a large fresh lemon and melon popsicle. and swallowing comes easy once you got into the rhythm of his continuous little bursts. Your stomach is telling you oh babe, I adore you for this. It’s stuffing full a) with the one thing is needs and b) the other thing it loves. All while Baekhyun’s bloody tongue is having a party on your clit and you can’t help but heavily rock your pussy all slapping up against his face.

The friction is unbearable, it makes you sopping wet on top of already being shot up with a ton of cream. Which now faithfully drops right into Baekhyun’s awaiting mouth and his nostrils along the way. He just snorts it up, gathers it on his tongue, then swallows it down like it’s a mild cold. The noise is so disgusting, it’s so sexy. You didn’t know mermen were this hardcore. You bet your fangs Yukhei can’t do that.

Baekhyun keeps on slurping on your creampie like it’s a desert pudding, and puckers his brazen lips to suck your clit between giving it little kisses and licks. The point where you forgot not just your name but your hometown and birth day is already passed, with Baekhyun indulging your pussy like that, you even forgot about planet earth being a thing.  His petite „Aw pretty“ and „So tasty“ noises have you clenching up and wildy deepthroating whatever impossible length of his dick is still left.

It’s oozing out too much to deal with at this point, so you just let it flow into the bath water. Your mouth being so slobbery, Baekhyun’s cock pulsing in and out of it causes a wet, hollow noise. It’s strangely satisfying and dirty to hear, you just love it. The blood seeping into your mouth makes you spiral even deeper and resorting to drift off into a wonderworld again, blowing big pink cum bubbles while you’re dreaming of Baekhyun in a groom suit out of nowhere.

Swimming at the edge of a pool, he’s stroking your hair and admiring your skin that seems so completely without any veins. Cut to Baekhyun standing in the kitchen with an apron making pancakes, drizzled with what can’t possibly just normal strawberry sauce. He perfectly balances himself on his tail to stand upright, and you’re wearing a Christmas sweater signed by Christopher Lee and Bela Lugosi.

Image three, Baekhyun massaging your feet with his pretty hands while you watch Nosferatu Reloaded on television. He whispers sweet nothings but they mean everything to you. Image four, a big house with a nice water system inside, and on top of that, a really shapely coffin that smells so dusty and snugly by just looking at it, you’re enamored with no return. Oh my god, there’s a moth plague in that house, too, and the garden grows nightshade!

Swallowing the remaining semen, thick and marshmallow-y as it so savoringly is, you shift back to your senses. Shit, that was a ride. You have a hard time letting go of his cock, but he’s not sustaining it with a spell at this point. Rather, it closes back behind his scales. Probably regenerating, you sucked and performated the shit out of it. Preoccupied, Baekhyun is still busier than ever making your pussy his personal oozing face grave, he’s particularly enjoying the digging part with the tongue. You promise to unearth him once he’s zombiefied, can’t let the poor tiny merguy just drown in there.

To think that he could do all the things you saw makes you furiously thrust back and hear his face smack into you. All of the cum he pumped into you is slathered all over his mouth and makes it all the easier to get all the clit stimulation you want from his bottom lip in particular. That he catches a hang of it and moves right along doesn’t help with your arousal. Your entire lower body is so heated and bustling, any south-Texan bat cave is a joke compared to that.

You hardly catch a direct glimpse of what’s going on, but from the reflection in the tiles you can see that Baekhyun’s hair has changed its color to how it naturally grew according to Mark’s seemingly random chronicle recital on Monday. Baekhyun only ever does it when he’s really serious about something and vulnerable enough. You can tell be picked up the pace and makes sure not one lick will miss.

With that level of determination, Baekhyun is sure to earn your moans and shaky thighs after a mere minute or two. You think that because he’s part demon, his tongue is… a bit longer and pointier and stronger than the average merman’s. It’s simply how the genes tend to mix and your clit very well feels that. The way he’s driving in the tip of the tongue in rapid sequences that resemble Ten’s piano suites, you’re tipped over the edge hard enough to grab at his tail not to slip from the massive tremble that rocks you.

Your orgasm rolls your eyes back to places even ghouls could dream of, and the amount of pleasure is so strong that your hearing and vision sets out for a solid ten seconds. You just scream and moan and scream again, and Baekhyun’s face gets one massive cum shower all over again. He’s not shy to move his mouth and head around like a madman, so your cum ends up being stuck in his hair altogether. Through even more frantic sucking and kissing, he seeks to prolong your high for another fifteen seconds of blissed out grinding against his face. You drank so much blood, you

By now, your face must look so blown up with all that cum and Baekhyun marked up so relentlessly, even if his bite marks have closed by now, Kai must think you switched roles going by your scents.

„Really sorry for my big cock.“

„Your blood… does it cause random hallucinations or something of that sort, can you direct it in any way?“

„It causes prophetic visions in some cases, if you experience it clearly as an image it will come true. Did you see something?“

„Um. Lots of things. Let’s say I… liked what I saw.“

„Actually, don’t tell me. I like being surprised.“

„Doesn’t it take 50 years until the egg fertilizes?“

„47, 48 is usual. Mermen cum is really slow but it’ll get there.“

„Nice. Isn’t the firstborn always a girl?“

„Yep.“

„We’ll name her after the song that’s always on the human radio, what is it again. Janine?“

„Jolene I’m thinking. I think it was that kind of song.“

„Yeah, I like that. And in the meanwhile we have some time, do we.“

„We can just go on like that. What are you thinking?“

„Shit, shit. I’ll suck you dry, Baekhyun, you don’t even know.“

„My blood regenerates the fastest among all half-species. Shouldn’t be a problem.“

„And what will we do about Yukhei’s mating drive?“

„Don’t worry. He’ll smell it.“

You pull the bathtub plug with a heavy heart and begin washing Baekhyun down. The blood doesn’t seem to stick to him very easily, which is as unsurprising as you not getting it off your own body. Even with his whatever pricey merguy body scrub thingy thing that’s normally used to keep gills and scales in shape. Resorting to staying bloodied for the day is nothing you’ll particularly hate, though.

Ten minutes later, you find a very unsettled Yukhei standing at the window of your designated club office, not able to meet your eyes for more than a second. In that expensive black tux, and you… in your bathing robe with blood all over your hair, and just a pair of Baekhyun’s sparkling light blue and silver ‚i ♡ dolphins‘ socks he borrowed you. He can’t wear them anyway, but they were so cute that he ordered them online.

Very much naked underneath all that, and water running down your legs in drops, alongside— something that does not feel like water. You already plan to hop right back into the shower and do the rest of the cleaning. The sex is great, but vampire hygiene is a pain in the ass sometimes. The scent must be killing him. You don’t even have to sit down for the word spill to start.

„Y/N.“

„I told you I don’t like you sneaking in here.“

„After working out. And, you know my senses are always heightened after this…“

„What is it now, hellboy. Just cut to the chase.“

„Please let me talk for a minute. I came walking by in the northern corridor,“ he starts out low once again. „You talked about your wings sprouting and you were being open with him. So—“

„You listened to us!“

He keeps his lips tight, not granting any reply.

„Piece of shit, you! You’re an all-round asshole.“

The water contained in a silver jug on the office table goes right over Yukhei’s head. He doesn’t react, lets you poor it all over him stoically. You hope it’s particularly cold. Since the water is silver-infused, it stings him, but he takes it.

„I can’t switch my nose and ears off, even at such a distance. It… it just reeks, alright. I just heard what was going on without intending. The talk, the— I didn’t know what it would develop into.“

„From start to finish. Am I right?,“ you dig your nails into your palms. „And you didn’t just walk off like you fucking should. So stop blaming your ears or what topics we started out with or whatever! You talk about mating behind my back, you eavesdrop, you invade my office just like this. Do you think that’s gonna make me marry you on the spot?“

All the magical afterglow — ruined. You cast the jug into a random corner and prop down at your desk. Yukhei wipes the wet bangs out of his face and turns from the window to face you now.

„I’ll stop with all this. Okay. I don’t want to treat you like a crusade machine against my dad or just to satisfy me. I’m sorry if I’m like you said. I’m just a stupid voyeur. I really didn’t want to.“

Yeah. Of course.

„If I spied on you? You’d be kicking me out in a hearbeat,“ you cross your arms and leave them in deadlock. „And what, you’ll stop what?“

„Training you for your position and fighting dad’s army.“

„Eh.“

„I know very well that’s Kai’s job and mine.“

„No shit, Yukhei.“

„And that we should defend more and not just plan the attack. You don’t enjoy the training as much as the normal recruit. You said you’d rather be talking with Baekhyun and that you chose him as a mate.“

„You’ll change your program?“

„A lycan will respect a no. We’re determined but not a creep. And my nose works perfectly fine.“

„What?“

„I’ll be realistic, I don’t think I could satisfy you like him.“

Now that sounds very different from all he’s ever said. You turn your chair toward him and stare Yukhei down.

„I’m listening.“

„I’m not stupid, okay.“

„Inaccurate, but go on.“

„You’d… bite me once and either I bleed out if I control myself or go wolf when I don’t. That’s lose-lose.“

„So you got that all of a sudden,“ you murmur. Yukhei just keeps on talking. It’s almost a prepared monologue.

„I’m a wolf, okay. I only get it when I smell it.“

„That’s some weird shit but fair enough, Mark says that too.“

„You smell like you had almost nine liters in one go. The whole fucking mansion feels like a butchery just opened. How many times did you bite him, fifty, sixty?“

„As if I’m counting. Do you count down when you drink water? You have it easy, you’re normal when you’re not in the moonlight. I’m vampire all the time.“

„What I try to say is. I don’t boast that much regenerating ability even if I wish I had.“

„And you realize that only now.“

„I came here to be honest. I gravely underestimated Baekhyun. You bit his nape and he really enjoyed it.“

„Well thanks for the information. About my private business…“

Yukhei’s senses must be really sharp to discern all of this. He might have stood in the bathroom in person. And if he knows it, Kai does tenfold if he was anywhere near the house. His senses are time-tested and four times as trained.

„I know that doing a bite like that is a big deal in half-breed… couples.“

„You’d find that inacceptable for me to do on you, wouldn’t you.“

Silence again. You tap your feet. Yukhei ends up nodding.

„To the extrent of how you reacted when I grabbed you by the hair. We’re not much different. Trying to make someone ours. Call me possessive but you’re also territorial. You didn’t just bite his neck tonight.“

„You understand why I said we’re not compatible. then.“

Yukhei remains silent for a while after that.

„The tension between our kinds has a reason.“

„No way. Never thought of that. Totally groundbreaking news.“

„We’d probably kill each other when we fuck. Simply because of what we naturally do. We’re suited for other species. Baekhyun matches you very well with his abilities. I admit that even if it hurts my pride.“

„One man’s trash another man’s pleasure.“

„You’re not trash. You know you’re my MVP here. And Baekhyun is going to please you well himself. He’s not as selfish as I am. He’s 290 years old, he’s very experienced.“

„Your instincts are really dying for a mate, don’t they.“

„Just like you deflate to a literal zombie when you’re not drinking, I can’t go without my pack hierarchy being complete. You go stupid when you sense blood, I go stupid when my senses aren’t challenged and I have to suppress my form. It’s that easy.“

„Now tell me something I don’t know.“

You comb your fingers through your hair. It’s kind of comforting right now. Yukhei comes to sit at your desk now himself, opposite to you.

„I should have left you to your own devices when you picked your spot at the fire place already.“

„What do you mean?“

„We left you seven empty places, right.“

„So that was not a coincidence.“

„We spiked each cup with a blood probe of each member. Enough to emenate a scent, but small enough not to have you figure out which cup belongs to whom. Especially not in a room with so many people was it possible to tell that apart so it worked.“

And of course they put up flowers to further confuse you. It was all planned.

„Did you… you…“

„It was a test. I made it so that if was covert enough and fair to everyone.“

„Fair? What the hell did you do with me!“

„Find out whose blood you like the very most. It was my idea. I wanted to see if I have a chance with you or not.“

„That’s insidious.“

„You picked Baekhyun’s probe right away. And you even drank a second cup. That should’ve answered my question by that point.“

That’s why the blood in the cup was so strangely shimmery. You knew that was familiar when you slept with Baekhyun, but couldn’t connect the dots entirely because there was so much soap in the water.

„And you still kept on talking about mating with me?“

„I didn’t know about your heritage before you came to us.“

„So?“

„That gave me a second chance that I hoped you would reconsider. Because it’s tradition tha—“

You smack Yukhei right across the face with your right backhand.

„Never say that word again.“

„And you said you’re here to tell the truth anyway. It’s a shallow excuse to get with me.“

„I’m not denying that, Y/N.“

„It’s been clear to you who I like since our first words. You’re acting like you can bend me to your wishes. You tested me and knew I wasn’t into you. Why?“

„It’s like when you couldn’t take your eyes off your cup. We’re not far apart with our instincts.

„I never said that’s a lie, Yukhei.“

„You can’t expect me not to get the hots if you’re lying there on the table without your top on. And I already controlled myself. I did my best, alright.“

This man is infuriating. You wish you had more silver water to splash him with.

„Taemin was right, Taeyong should’ve done the examination. Touching me fucked with your virgin head. You’re just hunting some one-sided dream looking for some omega girl that fits into your ideology thing.“

„Well you’re right.“

„Unfortunate.“

„But at the same time at least acknowledge that I realized we wouldn’t fit together. I changed my mind about that prospect okay, I’m trying.“

„That you’d make the worst blood bank ever is already clear.���

„I really wouldn’t.“

„Just know that the next time you’re trying to own me or do your wolf stalking shit. Or try to mess with Baekhyun. I’ll be skinning your hairy back with Taeyong’s 17th-century silver dagger and use you as a mud boots doormat.“

„I’ll control my senses as good as I can.“

„Leave away the last part of the sentence.“

„I’ll control my senses.“

„Ma’am.“

„I’ll control my senses, Ma’am.“

„You’re one desperate little shit. Club president and you need to be trained like a rowdy dog. How old are you again?“

„Last time I checked, 21.“

„Not surprised Kai still calls you a puppy and Ten thinks you’re a giant baby.“

„I say, found your own club if you can’t handle it.“

„That would put it back to square one. The only problem is you being horny for the wrong person, the rest are only consequences.“

„As if I can control what my nose tells me. And you know that the very best.“

„You’re still mad your own test backfired,“ you remember the cups put up in the fireplace room.

„Is it wrong wishing you would’ve chosen my blood?“

„Yes, after I clearly made my pick.“

„Then that’s that.“

„That’s that.“

„So what are we gonna do?“

„You cut your wolfy shit, that’s all. It’s creepy. And don’t annoy Taeyong either. You got me? Just stay in your own lane.“

„If I can.“

„Are you the president or are you not?“

„Fair enough.“

Taeyong rings a bell, and you gather for some tea under the backyard Wisteria. Shrimps are served, and Taeyong even bothered to prepare a minestrone that’s wonderfully dark red. Lucas savagely chews on raw chicken wings, Ten relaxes in a hammock, Mark writes, Taemin knits, and Baekhyun plays in the nearby pool, watching and listening and chatting, upbeat as always.

Kai arrives the very last in his post-jog showering robe, but greets you the very loudest in front of everyone.

„Hey, hey! I heard you waterboarded yourself to get some soapy red juice!“

Some confusion at his word choice, some giggles.

„So that’s been making the roun—“

„Amazing! That’s my girl,“ Kai burst out and pats you on the back so passionately, it feels like a freight train hits you.

„O—okay?“

„That greed is all I ever wanted to bring out in training! Where was that determination when we peeled garlic? I tried every method in the book to get you to that point!“

Awkward silence among the members. Then, some shrugs. Mark seems to be the only one who doesn’t get it. Figures, half-goblins don’t have hyper-developed senses. Thank God, his innocent soul. The club chronicles would be filled with details of you doing all sorts of things in a bath tub because Mark never leaves out anything unless he’s currently dropping a pen out of nervousness. Which doesn’t happen anymore.

„Kai, um… I still don’t think you understand what really motivates a vampire,“ Taeyong scratches his head, with you well-aware that he can smell merman blood across the entire house without even trying himself.

„So, what is it, then?“ Kai puffs himself up, arms crossed. „I’m the fucking trainer of how many species again? I should know best!“

It doesn’t take two seconds for a heated discussion to break out. The Venerable Pyramid of Essential Vampire Needs — which author defined it the most accurately? Which peer-reviewed vampire journals are trustworthy? Which interviewed populace is the most reflective of all vampirekind? Serbia, Romania, Turkey, Russia, Greece, overseas?

Everybody wants to weigh in: Taeyong and Mark at the forefront, with Kai and Lucas saying the exact opposite of what they expertly claim just because. Ten starts trolling them with made-up facts („a vampire’s #1 need is premium cellar dust!“), Taemin unsuccessfully tries to calm everybody down with a theory that considers all perspectives, and the tea gets colder and colder.

In the meantime, you squat down at the pool and muse over Baekhyun’s hair in the wind. You twirl it and tell him he’s gorgeous. He whispers just how good you smell. Why debate about essential vampire needs when it’s all right before your eyes.

Thinking about it. It was all about which relationship was mutual. That’s what the decision had been all about, and yes, it had been crystal clear from the very start. Lucas desperately wanted you, but it was one-sided. Mark was flustered by you, but didn’t make a move, nor did you have feelings for him. Taeyong you loved, but his age and mentor status were incompatible with turning it into a relationship. You understood him, but it was motivated by an admiration — there was a pedestal, which again made it one-sided. Ten was a mystery, it wasn’t clear on either part, and leaving each other guessing was no good sign instead of going about your ways. Kai was a compelling man, but had his piece of cake and aspired to different things. Baekhyun — he loves you and you love him.

A powerful engine revvs in the nearby garage, then, the motor stops. Onto the Wisteria jogs Ten with a huge bag of groceries.

„Hello, hello!“

Everybody greets him and picks their favorite snack from his bag. He really thought of everything. Yukhei and Jongin get a huge pile of meat from the car trunk’s cooling box. As a crowning finale, Ten presents you with the latest newpaper. The front page splayed out on the Wisteria’s main table causes everyone to steer and gasp.

SHOCKING!

SATAN’S HEAVENLY RETURN

Ruling hell too stressful after all?

„Rumor has it the King finally got bored of chatting with God and kicked out Satan from the 9th circle without much further ado.“

„No way!“ you toss and turn the newspaper. Five whopping pages are filled with cover story details.

„So dear horned guy went back to where he came from,“ Ten shrugs, then points at the snapshots all over the newspaper. „I mean look at it. This is all just a big ole jealousy drama.“

Who knows God talked some sense into Lucifer.

„I know that dad was getting envious about the King associating with the arch angels,“ Yukhei says. You start to get why. Satan had the privileges of being an archangel for who knows how long until he reached puberty and rebelled or whatever.

„Doesn’t that mean dad has the throne back now?“ you ask.

„Yup,“ Ten turns to page three, where @king_beli’s instagram feed is filled with selfies of the 9th circle, posing with Sisyphus, and throwing peace signs in a sulphurous-looking throne hall. 666,000 likes after just 6 hours. If that’s not a good sign.

You keep on debating how exactly Satan got kicked out so effortlessly until Taeyong rolls in a little swirly metal wagon after the tea is finished. On top of it: An almost ancient relic that Alexander Graham Bell probably built himself.

„Sir, the Hell Telephone might be a good idea right now.“

„Your turn Y/N,“ Yukhei declines, ushering Taeyong to bring the wagon to your side of the table. You dial and wait roughly half a minute.

„Sorry, I was partying,“ a voice creaks through the old speaker. „How can I help? Isn’t this Club Daemon speaking? Is it who I think it is?“

„Hey dad.“

„It is!“

„Hello. You’ve heard about me, then.“

„Yup yup! That you’re Yukhei’s personal dog trainer is what Kai wrote me on Whatsapp! Did you really pour silver water on him? That’s funny as hell!“

„Oh God.“

„I say that a lot these days as well, man. Sorry, we have some music blasting here by the way!“

„Hey dad, what actually happened with God and Satan?“

„Ah, long ass story. Satan chickened out recently, hell is one hell of a job you know. New job opportunity for me. But you gotta take it easy and have fun.“

„I can tell.“

A spitfire verse of what sounds like Megan Thee Stallion is currently pumping through the telephone. Ten grooves right along in his hammock, smiling way too ominously. You can tell he knows every bar by heart. He’s been listening to the human radio way too much during his errants.

„I’m only stressed because the furniture is terrible.“

„The what?“

„In the years of my absence, horned geezer got a little too creative with the design, you know. I’m more of a romantic.“

„So… you just moved in there just because.“

„You could say that, yeah!“

Confused shrugging among the club members. Belial keeps on babbling and blasting something else at the other end of the line. It must be K-Pop or something like that.

„Talk about romance, I hear you have a mate?“

„Yeah dad, it’s Baekhyun.“

„Oh him? I’ve heard of that guy! The merman!“

„He’s really sweet.“

„Make many cute demon babies alright. That would be so adorable. I’m all ready to cuddle wuddle them. I actually came up with baby name suggestions.“

„Dad!“

„You know, 80 years ago. I met your mom…“

„Dad, I don’t wanna hear your love stories. Rather tell me what happened to mom. What did Satan do?“

„Listen here. That was a stupid rumor Azazel was spreading because he’s a gossip man!“ Belial rages at the other end of the line. „Your mom was 8906, alright. She died of diabetes. You got adopted by humans she found trustworthy and planned to be your caretakers.“

„That was all planned?!“

„You were… a bit too young for hell back then. She wanted to leave you the choice later on in life whether you want to be in a clan or come here, or neither of that. I know being a half-breed isn’t easy. And you should get into all these worlds by your own devices. I learned about all of this only much later you see. I’ve been hanging out in the clouds for some time. It’s pretty chill there. But now I’m happy to hear from you.“

„Yeah.“

„If you got anything you need paid? Rent, marriage, car, diapers? Just ask me when needed.“

„I dunno…“

Looks like your dad is a rather forward thinker indeed. Well, least he thought it through.

„If you need it spontaneously and I’m not available, just force Yukhei to give you some pocket money.“

„I don’t have to force him. He already does that without me even asking.“

„That’s what I call a great president!“

„He literally thinks my bank account is free real estate where he can dump anything. I can’t even manage all that,“ you roll your eyes, with Yukhei grinning his most satisfied smile at the end of the table.

On the more unsatisfied end, Kai is about to jump up and sock him in the chest. You know damn well his salary hasn’t been increasing since Yukhei discovered his unsolicited Sugar Daddy hobby. You can buy Baekhyun some extra cotton candy now, but you’ll have to figure out a way to transfer some pocket money to Kai yourself. Now really, he’s been training the shit out of you.

„Even better! Cheers to him. He’s too straight for his own good sometimes though. Anyways. You can drop by as soon as we cleaned up here. We’ll open the circles of hell completely next month.“

„Okay, that’s good news!“

„Once you get pregnant, make sure you two find a flaming cave apartment on the east side! You really wanna raise your kids here. Hellraiser, get it?“

„The east side is too hot for Baekhyun. His tub water would just evaporate, man.“

„Oh! Then the west side. A nice penthouse with panoramic views on a volcano. You’ll get a baking Pompeii face mask every time you’re stepping out! There’s so much ash raining down, your kid can do snow angels on every pavement. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for everything.“

In the meantime, the party guests are blasting Caramelldansen in the background and louds clapping numbs your ears.

„Dad…. you realize you have a lot of clown energy, right? Do you even hear me?“

„Talk about clowns, actually,“ the king carries on completely unbothered. „Mammon really wants to see Kai too, I think he’s missing him. He’s calmed down a little after the Corona crisis messed with his bank account.“

Commotion at the table. Kai almost chokes on his cold tea.

„That’s unexpected… I thought he’d never do that.“

„Yeah aw, I know,“ your father says. „Satan has spread a lot of fake news while he was here, you see.“

„We’re glad to be welcome then? That sounds like a good idea to meet up some time. Maybe for a day or two.“

„Strike! I convinced you!“

„Yeah, you did…“

„Few of you saw hell back in the day, right?“

„Yukhei, Kai, I dunno who else, Ten I’m guessing.“

Nods from the hammock. Wouldn’t be strange if Ten was a regular hell driver.

„Oh Ten! Greet Ten from me. His instagram is what I aspire to. Ten is the coolest. Even the ghouls I know don’t have that kind of fashion sense.“

„Will do.“

„And— about aspirations. We’ll be talking about your heir thing when the time is right you see, I know you want to know about all of this.“

You perk up, as do the club members.

„It’s a thing for the future. I’m not hellbent or anything,“ you say, tongue in cheek.

„Hah! You’re funny. I see we’re agreeing on this. You’re very busy with Baekhyun, right. Love is priority. Hell later. This place is a lot to handle anyway.“

„…exactly.“

„I know my daughter and I didn’t even meet her yet!“

Taeyong does a little aw noise in the background and even Yukhei has to smile.

„I’ll probably tell the same stories you do and blast the same music in a couple years, I can see it coming.“

„And that’s when you’re ready for the throne. Remember—“

„Gotta keep it easy and make it fun.“

„You got it. Until then, live a tense life man, that’s also needed.“

„Dad, what the hell!“

„I actually mean it. Leave it to your old man to get this 9th circle popping in the meantime.“

You get the image of your father watching youtube music videos all day and trying to keep up with the latest slang words on twitter.

„Okay, crazy old man.“

„At your service!“

It almost makes you laugh how the old generation of full-breed demons is completely gone wild and the youngsters are the opposite. Well, except the half-lycans, but they’re always living on the edge anyway.

„Can I speak to Mister Lee as well? Is he around?“

„Mark or Taeyong or Taemin? We have a lot of Lees.“

„Um, the butler guy.“

„Taeyong, here it goes. See you dad!“

You pass the hellephone, Taeyong poises himself.

„Hey there, young man!“

„Not that young. 552, Sire.“

„Hilarious, you can’t even get a Styx boat license around here at that age. Anyway. Got some news for you.“

„Yes, Mister?“

„Mammon recently splurged on the latest robo fancy schmancy tech stuff from Japan for no reason. I guessed you would want to try one on.“

„Pardon— Try on what?“

„Oh, a prosthetic exo-skeleton I mean. I heard you had beef with the loopy guy. Just drop by whenever.“

„A prosthetic arm aid?“

„Well yes!“

„That’s… that’s very kind of you.“

„No problem! Is the your Professor X available to speak to as well?“

„Of course, Sire, one moment,“ Taeyong composes himself, but you can tell he’s still processing it.

Everybody is on the edge of their seat.

„Hi down there,“ Lucas takes the speaker and leans back in his seat very laxly. Compared to how defeated he looked in your office, his posture is much more unwound now.

„Hi up there, Lucas what’s good?“

„Doing mighty fine these days. You gave us a good headline.“

„Oh, you’re very welcome Mister President. There’s headlines about me?“

The King sounds genuinely surprised.

„Yeah. You’ll have to add me in Kai’s Whatsapp group or give me your number. I’ll update you on these types of things.“

„Note down 1666 2666 3666, and I have some updates for you as well.“

Mark and Taeyong instantly start scribbling the number into their vest notebooks, meanwhile Lucas swirls the tea in his cup around.

„Shoot.“

He begins drinking it.

„Mister Cerberus’ daughter graduated today. Canine sciences. Lovely girl, calls herself Circe, you know, like the evil witch. Very intelligent person. She’s looking for a job and a mate in the upper world. I told her about the Club’s situation and you know, gossipped a little. She says she’s interested in you.“

Lucas spits out the tea.

„Sorry, what?“

„Hey, do you really think you’re not a man in demand? Anybody who studies werewolves knows about you. And you have free membership spots, or is that information outdated?“

„I-Is she a half-breed?“

„Of course, do you think Mister Cerberus would date another demon? That would make no sense! Hell, wouldn’t that be beastitality or something? Is it that what you call it?“

„Uh… Bestiality I thought, Sir.“

„Anyways. I haven’t seen Cerberus with anyone else but werewolves.“

„Werewolves are the closest genetically to hell hounds, Mister President,“ Mark leans in confidentially to brief Yukhei. „It’s good conduct for them to date.“

„Oh, uh, I get it.“

„So, do you want to meet her or not?“

„We, we have free spots all the way!“

„Great then, I’ll send her up the staircase now. She’ll be there in a minute or so.“

„The stai—!”

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - June 13

Happy Sunday!! Here’s what I’ve been reading this week. As always, leave your fic authors some love if you read and enjoy their stories! 

**Indicates my recent favs 

~*~ 

Redemption by samptra (Dark Tony/27K) 

He wanted to say he wasn’t sure when it had become an obsession, but that would be a lie. It had become an obsession the day he had lost him.

He’d lost his soul and his mind that day. No that wasn’t accurate either; he had lost his heart that day.

They buried it with that patriotic hero.

I know, I know (I know you want me) by equalopportunityobsessor (ABO/12K)

Weeks ago, Rhodey and Clint were taken by HYDRA, and despite the team's best efforts, have only just been rescued. Whatever HYDRA had been doing to the two Alphas in that time had left them trapped in a Rut that SHIELD couldn't break.

There was only one sure-fire way to get an Alpha out of a Rut - and if Natasha was going to help Clint break his, there was no way that Tony wasn't going to help Rhodey.

Too bad Steve didn't quite see it that way.

"Perfect," Steve whispered, "You were so perfect, Tony, thank you."

Tony managed a small version of his usual smirk. "How perfect?"

 Flowers bloom with no regret by theMusicmaniac (Hanahaki/16k)

“It’s getting worse.” Sam finally comments, quiet in his despair, and neither Natasha or Bucky voice anything in response, but their expressions say it all.

“I’m sorry.” Is all Steve can whisper, unmisted breath dispelling into the air, because it’s cold, he’s cold.

It’s too late. It’s already far too late, and he wants to scream, wants to break down, wants to crack into a million shards of ice, wants it all to stop; everything he’s ever loved, shattering bit by bit. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Steve.”

“I’m sorry.”

Steve watches through his own stinging eyes as Natasha goes back to staring out the window, the tears freezing on her cheeks. Steve is numbly glad somehow, to see it, even if the sight of his friend in despair is painful.

Something is better than nothing, and soon, he knows, there won’t even be that much.

One Fine Day by fundamentalBlue, fuzzyhamish, treesramblings  (Established Relationship/7k) 

Tony wakes up alone. But Steve has plans for him. Good plans.

The roughest day by Elspethdixon, Seanchai (616/43k) 

Steve is in a motorcycle accident, Tony catches a cold, and someone is after the New Avengers.

And nowhere to go by nonymos (Dark Tony/23k)

He gave a mocking, dirty smirk. “Basically, Rogers, you need to be worked hard and put away wet.”

Steve’s gut did something strange when he heard those words, but he absolutely refused to acknowledge it as anything else than fury.

 Tony wants to find out about Steve's limits. Steve never knew how to back down from a fight.

 Like how your heart works by ishipallthings, zappedbysnow (College AU/7k) 

“I don’t mind waiting for my first kiss. I just hope that when it happens, it’ll be important. And I want it to be with someone who really wants my first kiss too.”

(Or: the one where Tony is pining, Steve takes the long way around to realizing he’s in love, and there’s clothes sharing.)

If the water’s still flowing by Sineala (Mermaid AU/8k) 

When a flight test of Tony's new Iron Man suit model sends him plunging into the depths of the Atlantic, rescue comes from the most unlikely of sources. Tony had thought mermaids were fictional, but this man is very, very real. And Tony certainly never expected the merman to be handsome... and the attraction to be mutual.

Stark vs Rogers Cafe by AngeNoir (Coffeeshop AU/12k) 

Colonel Nick Fury will go to his grave denying the fact that he deliberately set up the safe-house with a cafe as a front nearby Stark's tower.

Or that he knew placing the three he could there would help them bond.

Or that he suspected Stark would stumble upon the cafe and connect with them.

Or that he was doing his best to keep the few Avengers still around - with Bruce Banner out of country - together so they could form a team.

To his grave.

Good Vibrations by isozyme (PWP/7K) 

Steve had sounded like he really genuinely wanted to see Tony and hear about the new robot-heart and Stark Solutions, so Tony decided that a weekend trip was worth it to see his friend in person.

His friend, Tony had reminded himself. Not anything else. It wasn’t fair to Steve if Tony spent their entire visit thinking un-friend-like thoughts about him, and his muscles, and his sweet smile and his careful, firm hugs. However, Tony had a plan. All he needed to do was to tire his dick out on the way over, and he’d be fine. Fortuitously, the Mark 20 had a few brand-new bells and whistles that would help him blow off some steam before meeting up with Steve.

◈

Tony built a fucking machine inside the armor. It would be a shame if it malfunctioned in the worst possible way, at the worst possible time, in front of the worst possible person.

The devil you know by shetlandowl (Mystery/18k) 

Best selling author Tony Stark revives the bodice ripper genre for a modern audience. From frisky gay cowboys to ravenous lesbian pirate queens, he consistently delivers riveting thrillers full of romance, drama, and the filthy, unapologetically kinky sex that has become his trademark specialty.

Tony has everything a man could dream of - horny, adoring fans, and boatloads of money. Or that's what he thought, until Detective Steve Rogers walks into his life and turns it all upside down.

And teach this heart (how to beat with light) by Anonymous (Kidfic/44k) 

Eight years ago, at a funeral with a baby's cries ringing in his ears, Tony Stark decided to turn his life around. He's a genius, billionaire, philanthropist. What's so hard to adding 'doctor' to that list?

And after that, it can't be that hard to add 'husband' and 'father' too, right?

But the past has a way of haunting even the very best of us, and in any universe, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers have never had an easy love.

Featuring: drama, chaos, Peter's scheming, meddling friends, and doctors learning again that the heart can never be as simple as four chambers and four valves.

 Stellar love affairs by AvengersNewB, BladeoftheNebula (Star Trek AU/6K) 

Captain Steve Rogers gets assigned to command the starship Avenger. Everything is going as expected until he sets eyes on Tony Stark, who happens to be the first omega Steve's ever met.

[sitp-recs]

Hello! I was wondering if you can recommend any drarry fics with courting? Poorblood courting traditions or anything similar? It’s ok if you can’t, thank you anyway! (And sorry if it was asked already!) I love your blog, my ao3 is full of fics to read all the time thanks to you 😁💕

Hello darling, thanks so much for sending this ask and for your kind words! I always see you on my notes and I appreciate it 💜 this trope is one of my current obsessions so if anyone has more recs hit me up! These are the ones I’ve read and adored so far, hope you enjoy them as well!

Still Warm, Still Warm by tsauergrass (2021, G, 5k)

Harry is up to something. Why else would he keep giving Draco presents?

Days of Glory by Lomonaaeren (2013, M, 6k)

Draco is coming up with the perfect gifts to send to Harry; now if only Harry will be flattered into accepting them.

The Five Trials by @doubleappled (2018, E, 11k)

Harry’s willing to go to great lengths for the chance to date Draco — even when those lengths come in the form of an 11th-century courtship ritual. Even when he’s pretty sure he’d rather die (again) than dance in public.

Shining, Like A Present by @bixgirl1 (2017, E, 13k) - kinky courting 😏

The discovery of a small silver box at the site of a case opens up new possibilities.

Plan Alphabet by @xx-thedarklord-xx (2019, T, 14k)

After realizing that his feelings for Harry were unfortunately real, Draco embarks on a foolproof—yes, Longbottom, foolproof—plan to woo Potter. And if that doesn't work, well there is always another letter of the alphabet to try next.

Reparatio by astolat (2016, E, 17k)

Draco snorted. “I’m not reduced to penury. I want something considerably beyond money, and I rather think you’re the only one can give it to me.”

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken (2020, T, 19k)

Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

amid this warm and steady sweetness by warmfoothills (2019, E, 21k)

Harry is not living in a period drama, no matter what his friends or his new house or Malfoy’s sudden affinity for horse-riding might suggest, and if one more person uses the word courting, he’s going to start hexing people.

House Proud by astolat (2016, M, 23k)

His house liked Draco Malfoy more than him.

Love in Three Parts by @static-abyss (2021, M, 24k)

Draco has everything needed to be the diamond of the season. He has the looks, the pedigree, and if he should be short on the money end, well, it isn't up to him to convince anyone they want to marry him. And yet, he finds himself with no prospects and no suitable matches until Harry James Potter, Wizarding Britain's Most Eligible Bachelor, makes his first appearance in proper Wizarding society for the first time in five years. 

Slithering by astolat (2016, E, 27k)

Draco found the nest down in the Manor’s cellars, while he was clearing them out.

Glory Be by Lomonaaeren (2013, E, 32k)

Draco—Draco Malfoy, skilled assassin, powerful and wealthy Veela, former Death Eater—has always known what to do, where to go, who to kill. And then Harry Potter came along.

The Moon Looks Lovely Tonight by Omi_Ohmy (2014, M, 35k)

When Harry moves into the damp and empty Black house, it doesn’t quite feel like home. And then the first owl moves in. After that, it’s a steep slope leading to bed-sharing, more owls, assorted housemates, strange potions experiments, and terrible cooking. And a bit of waltzing, too.

Nearly Lost Things, Carefully Tended by SquadOfCats (2017, E, 46k)

Three years after the war, Harry is lost, drifting, and feeling left behind. In an effort to get control of his life, he commits to cleaning out Grimmauld Place top-to-bottom and forcing it to be a home, whether it likes it or not.

Of Roses and Dragonfire by xErised (2018, E, 53k)

Years after That Kiss, Potter (and his new pet snake) appears again, this time as Hogwarts's Quidditch and Muggle Games instructor (what are Muggle Games anyway? Is this why Potter is swimming in the Great Lake wearing such a tiny pair of pants?), disrupting Draco's peaceful life as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats (2018, E, 104k)

Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

[falsegoodnight]

these are the fics I read or reread and enjoyed this month! like last time, i’m separating it into different sections: main list, podfics, wips, and non-1d. rereads will be included in the main list and marked with *.

*note: this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 1st to the 25th and any fics read after will be included in next month’s fic rec list because otherwise this is going to be obnoxiously long. 

—

main list ~

✰ black cherries and chocolate by @harryanthus​ | NR | 666 (intense and jarring in the best way. this leaves you with that heart-racing feeling and panic crawling up your throat)

There is something or well, someone in the walls.

✰ keep secrets just to keep you by @hadestyles​ | T | 1k (loved this so much!! and need 1000000 more royalty abos from rori immediately)

“With the elements as my witness, I take you to be my husband. My heartbeat begins with you and ends with you, Louis Tomlinson.” Louis sinks to his knees as well, salty tears mixing with the pure rainwater. “And I take you as mine. My heart beats for you and with you.”

✰ bitter coffee and sweet love by @dontfuckwithmyotp​ | G | 1k (so cute and sweet!! proud of you ari for getting your first fic out and excited to see what you do next!)

“Hello! Welcome to The Busy Bean! Are you new?” Louis blinked in surprise at the voice and looked around to find the source. “Behind you,” The person tapped his shoulder once and he whirled around at the unexpected touch.

“Hey! Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to interrupt a person—” His rant stopped when he finally faced them. It was a guy—Harry Styles, according to his small black name tag. His eyes widened in embarrassment.

✰ turn your mic off, baby by @vogueharrystan​ | E | 2k (i love when lilli writes harry’s pov. this was so hot!)

Louis walks around the house naked all day and ignores Harry to play video games instead. Harry gets tired of it.

✰ This Could Be Love by mulletharry | G | 2k (such a cute and perfect little valentine’s day fic! put the biggest smile on my face <3)

Harry and Louis have been together for four months. They spend their first Valentine’s Day together.

✰ you appear as my soul by @hadestyles​​ | T | 2k (so gorgeous and raw)

He aches — not as much as Louis, he could never imagine all that he bears quietly — and as cruel as it sounds, it keeps reminding him of how fragile they are.

✰ the energy from your body by sweetielouis | E | 3k (hilarious, hot, and cute!)

Harry and his friends have a popular podcast, for the Valentines Day special they get a bit drunk and talk a bit too comfortably about their friends arses.

It's a good thing Louis doesn't mind it all that much. 

✰ look how i remember by @harryanthus​ | M | 4k (this left me speechless and aching)

He hates it, he wants to scream and tell Harry as much. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me as if we are in love. Kiss me like you will never do it again. Kiss me with so much hatred that it turns back to love.

✰ Things Unsaid by @londonfoginacup​ | G | 5k (so so cute and funny!!)

"That chunky oversized sweater is like a clown outfit made for winter."

It feels like time slows down.

Those words echo in his mind, familiar. Why are they familiar? The— the sweater he saw last week. The one with all the knit squares.

The train slows to a stop and Louis just— he doesn’t move. He feels frozen in place as people surge around him. Suddenly everyone is moving too fast and then just as suddenly the car is near empty, taking off again.

The man is gone.

His soulmate is gone.

✰ reckless serenade by @thepolourryexpress​ | E | 4k (adorable and funny and amazing!)

Harry's Google search history may or may not look like 'my girlfriend doesn't know we're dating.'

✰ dancing in the moonlight by @outropeace​ | E | 5k (need 100k more of this immediately, thanks. so wonderful)

Louis’ fuck buddy gets a date for Valentine’s day and he discovers that denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.

✰ The truth is, the stars are falling by larrysbeanies | E | 5k (hot!!! walking-in trope that i love so much)

Harry knows Louis is gay. Hell, he came out to Harry exactly two months ago (when the dreadful dry spell started) because it was becoming increasingly hard to hide the fact that his one night stands were men. And, you know, they’re best friends so there aren’t supposed to be secrets and all that.

Thing is, Louis told Harry he’s gay ergo, Harry is aware that Louis likes men. Why the fuck did he act so normal while fingering him three days ago, then? Is this something straight guys do to their gay best friends in Harry’s world?

Louis would really like to know.

✰ to be used and to be in love by @thelesserneptune​ | E | 5k (blessed that this is a series. really hot and cute!)

Louis doesn't know why his filthy best friend turned into a vanilla boyfriend and thinks of the perfect birthday present to solve that problem.

✰ on the borderline by @princelouisau​ | E | 8k (the way danielle writes... poetry. this broke me down and then stitched me back up <3)

Louis makes his choice.

✰ One Step Closer by agrinwithouthiscat | G | 12k (reading asexual hl fics is instant comfort and this was lovely)

The one fake relationship AU where they don't end up together.

✰ i glow pink in the night by @raspberryoatss​ | E | 12k (hybrid louis perfection, beautiful writing, characters, and story as always!)

Harry reads a lot of articles about hybrids and Louis is determined to prove them wrong.

✰ The Thinker of Tender Thoughts by @speakingwithink | G | 13k (asexual hl again! this one made me cry) 

Louis sits on his hands to stop them from shaking as he adds, ‘and I’m ace.’ If only he had glitter, he thinks. Coming out deserves a bit of sparkle.

✰ Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice by @harriblou​ | M | 13k (enemies with benefits to lovers goodness! so hot and entertaining)

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that,” Harry muttered through clenched teeth, bones already burning with the pure desire and hatred mixing in his body. It was an intoxicating rush of adrenaline and something else that probably came with fucking Louis Tomlinson. He squeezed his neck just a little tighter. “I can’t stand it.”

Their lips were brushing against each other, just moving with the ragged movements of their mouths and harsh breathing.

“You’re a lying piece of shit dickhead,” Louis muttered right back. That was all he did, challenge and nag. He loved to have the last word and Harry let him because he used all his energy to fuck him mindless.

✰ hold onto your stars by vashtaneradas | NR | 16k (this writer’s atmosphere/prose draws me in every time. such a lovely story)

Harry's in the army, Louis' back home, and ninety days is a lifetime.

✰ The Future is Now by @jacaranda-bloom​ | E | 16k (love fics in this five times format and this one was so unique and cool!! and the friends to lovers aspect = chef’s kiss)

Five times Louis follows the fortunes to seek out his true love, and the one time he realises that what he's been searching for might've been right in front of him the whole time.

✰ Visceral Heat & Carnal Highs by @theisolatedlily​ | E | 18k (the prose in this... gorgeous. so fucking good and addicting. delighted that there’s going to be a sequel and excited for whatever lily does next!)

Louis is a demon at a house party prowling for a meal, indulging in horrendous sins to satisfy his hunger. Harry is the talk of the night, beckoning all eyes on him and the reason why Louis’s plan goes awry.

✰ deFENCEless by @solvetheminourdreams​ | T | 27k (this was so cute and so funny and i had the biggest smile on my face the entire time. not surprised since stef always evokes that in me with her writing)

When Louis butts heads with his new neighbor who loves to garden a little too much, all he can do to protect his yard (and heart), is keep on building up his fence(s).

✰ darling, you give love a bad name by snowcaplou | M | 29k (been waiting for this one since summer and i wasn’t disappointed! so wonderful and real!)

Louis’ has been best friends with Gemma all his life in this stupid little town he’s grown to hate. What happens when, after one night together with his best friend’s brother, he falls pregnant? Surrounded by small minds and conservative cultures, Louis has to deal with parents that demand they do the “right” thing. Get married before anybody finds out.

✰ The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson* by @helloamhere​ | T | 31k (will never not be an all-time favorite. louis’ character is my absolute favorite - gothic heroine indeed - and harry is the best dramatic gay ghost ever <3)

Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

✰ begged and borrowed time by @bottomlwt​ | M | 40k (this concept was so unique and so cool!! loved the medieval setting and the time travel and how everything fit together in the end!!)

“It wasn’t until 1568 that it became time for Prince Harry to find a queen and prepare to rule. However, the day he was set to choose his bride-to-be, he mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again despite the multiple search parties that went on through the years. To this day, historians still do not know what happened with the infamous Prince Styles case..."

✰ Lidocaine and Palm Trees.* by @daddyharrie​ | E | 45k (definition of ris comfort read - on nth reread and still love it wholly. makes me miss la which is an astonishing feat in itself) 

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

✰ haunted by the ghost of you* by @missandrogyny​ | E | 49k (perhaps my favorite fic of all time? the humor, the characters, the angst?!?! all the britney spears!! and pink ouija boards and wikihow!!)

He’s tall—that’s the first thing that registers in Louis’ head when he spots him, standing with his hands behind his back. Tall, with curly hair, staring at them with the widest, greenest eyes Louis has ever seen. And wait, are those dimples? Louis didn’t know ghosts could have dimples.

Because he’s definitely a ghost, this boy. At first glance he looks normal, standing there pigeon-toed in a band shirt (The Ramones, Louis can’t help but note incredulously), dark jeans, and some boots, with rings on both hands, and tattoos littering his left arm—a sleeve made of anchors and names and roses and other completely unrelated things. But he’s also a little bit translucent; if Louis focuses, he can see the outline of the furniture, the design of the wallpaper through him.

“Hi,” the boy—the ghost—says to Louis. His face shifts; somehow his dimples dig deeper into his cheeks. His eyes flit from Louis, to Niall, to Liam, and finally to Zayn, and his face goes from shocked to elated. “I’m Harry.”

At in that exact moment, standing between three of his best friends and staring at a (quite handsome) ghost, Louis can only think one thing.

Nick Grimshaw was right.

✰ like real people do by @eeveelou​ | E | 64k (this was... so amazing. the characters were so wonderfully written and so was the journey of healing and growth that louis undertakes over the story :’) loved the contrast between l and h’s lives and how they fit into each other still so perfectly)

Jessica Jones AU in which the dead stay where they belong, featuring Zayn as the high-powered lawyer with a hopeless crush on his assistant Liam, Niall as the constantly stoned but strangely insightful neighbor, Harry as Manhattan’s media darling, and Louis as the never-was hero who’s just trying to pick up the pieces.

✰ Black With Autumn Rain by whimsicule | T | 93k (i actually can’t remember if i’ve read this before??? either way - it was wonderful! loved the setting and atmosphere and the supernatural elements! i was so intrigued from the first sentence onwards)

Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren’t exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

podfics ~

✰ tall stories on the page by @soldouthaz​ & read by @softlouislove​ | T (hannah’s voice is so lovely and perfect for reading aloud - and ofc the fic itself is amazing)

Harry's tired of being interviewed by people that only care about the same pointless gossip. Louis is a nice change of pace. 

wips ~

✰ Truth Behind Golden Eyes by @lwtisloved​ | E | 60k | 6/16 (just caught up fully today but i’m really enjoying everything! this is everything i’ve ever wanted in a fantasy fic)

Louis is a royal servant born with magic in a kingdom where his sole existence is outlawed with a war he has no idea he has a part in upon him. Harry is the prince on whom the burden of mending a broken kingdom falls upon and he might be willing to risk it all for a simple servant if only he admitted it to himself.

✰ ‘cause all our tomorrows lead the way by @loubellies​ | E | 39k | 3/10 (having a blast reading this one!! i’ve never seen the bachelor in my life but in fic-format, it’s so fun!)

So maybe Louis’ in over his head.

He had signed up for the Bachelor on a whim after his second bottle of wine and well, here he is. He’s just been announced as the twenty-sixth Bachelor and his ass is sweating. Like, literally sweating. He’s positive that if he was to turn around, the entirety of Bachelor Nation would get a nice peek of his ass sweat.

✰ The Night Still Whispers Sins of Old by @toomanydreamers​ | E | 6k | 2/? (loving this so much, as expected. can’t wait to see how everything unfolds)

Two and a half years have passed since the fateful day when Louis and Harry were crowned Triwizard champions. Confronted with misunderstandings, wounded pride and heartache, Louis stumbled away from the possibility of a future relationship with Harry. Instead, he buried himself into relentless work as a junior Auror and refused to let himself be vulnerable with another person. Circumstances change that force Louis to confront his feelings - and Harry. Stolen glances, picnics at sunrise, thrilling adventures, original spellwork, midnight feasts, soft lips and cautious second chances culminate in an unforgettable mission - but will it be enough to mend their relationship?

non-1d ~

✰ like a bullet needs a gun by @millsxwriting​ | T | 21k | wilds au (despite me having no context, mills still got me to fall in love with toni and shelby. this was so cute and lovely!!)

Toni doesn’t expect to fall for anyone in her senior year. Least of all for Shelby Goodkind, the new girl that arrived in town just before the end of summer. In fact, Toni can’t even look at her for longer than two seconds, or listen to more than three sentences coming out of her mouth without wanting to accidentally push her off a cliff. 

Cue a group project and endless bickering, and suddenly Toni finds herself with an unbearable crush.

If you read any of these beautiful works of art, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

*if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

[teashoptiramisu]

Todosibs (and other BNHA) rec list

I started another BNHA fic reclist and it got long so I'm putting it here as I tend to.... on my ATLA sideblog. Don't worry about the logic of this too much, haha. Anyways, a lot of these are pretty well known, but maybe some are new to you! I'm also giving pitches for why I like them geared towards specific requests, and I'll list the original request at the bottom of the post so if you guys have further recs that meet these requirements let me know!

Not all who wander are lost -- https://archiveofourown.org/works/17950646 -- 27k words, complete -- Has probably been rec’d here before, and I was re-reading it today as a treat, I still love it a lot! All four Todoroki siblings run away together after Rei burns Shouto. I love the characterization, and how the author draws on their own experience as a foreigner working in Japan, and how they did their research on missing child cases and child homelessness in Japan (it doesn't go hugely in depth but I appreciate the authors' notes discussing this, even if it's, well, incredibly tragic. There’s more light hearted cultural notes as well!)

make this feel like home -- https://archiveofourown.org/works/21852745 -- 27k words, complete -- we already rec'd this to you but adding it here for completion. A character-focused Todosibs fic with EXCELLENT portrayal of sibling relationships. I re-read this one A LOT.

Dragon Head, Snake Tail -- https://archiveofourown.org/works/17195510 -- 61k words, incomplete -- Another Todosib favorite that deals with canon and also an AU in which Rei got a divorce and everyone mostly grew up away from Endeavor. I love how the sibling relationships are depicted, but I also love how the author is a huge kanji nerd who fully lean's into Horikoshi's love for punny names and the long authors notes explaining how they came up with every new name in the fic. It's occasionally bittersweet but mostly a fun & humorous fic.

Twin Swap -- https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867879 -- 55k words, on hiatus with 2 complete arcs -- do you want Todosibs AND great villain characterization? (well mostly Fuyumi & Touya, but Natsuo is there for a bit too). Anyways the fic is mostly pretty lighthearted in tone, but it's also not afraid to hit hard in the characterization department, and I really love how this author wrote all of the League members. I re-read this one a lot.

No Such Thing As a Hopeless Case -- https://archiveofourown.org/works/16806328 -- 14k words, hiatus (and right on a cliffhanger too!) -- All Might accidentally kinda adopts the league of villains? Again, great LOV characterization, and I think you'll like how it explores the societal factors and personal tragedies that lead them to and keep them at the margins of society. also, some really terrible puns, which are my favorite thing

could i but teach the hundreth part -- https://archiveofourown.org/works/12558048 -- 5k words, complete -- a post-canon outsider-POV fic of Class 1-A visiting and taking care of a retried All Might. It’s just short and sweet.

Missing Everything -- https://archiveofourown.org/works/30128547 -- 52k words, in progress -- AU where Izuku doesn't learn of All Might's secret during the slime attack, but manages to befriend him through his civilian identity. Recommending this for the really interesting (to me at least) characterization of All Might and examination of his flaws and the toll of his career, and recently it's gotten into some interesting exploration of the details of the Hero System with the beach clean up.

Q.A.B. -- https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665101 -- 18k words, complete (w/ a sequel just starting out!) -- a really excellent social media fic in which Izuku stays quirkless and doesn't go to UA but does gain a following online for his quirk analysis and hero blogging. Also features great characterization of Todoroki, Kaminari, and some of the Vigilantes crew.

Yesterday Upon the Stair -- https://archiveofourown.org/works/8337607 -- 460k words, complete. You're probably aware of this fic since it's the highest hit count in the fandom, but I really think it fits your requirement and writing and character work! I know some other people who think the writing and character work are mediocre though, which I'm baffled by... but YMMV? The beginning is weaker and my absolute FAVORITE part is the Nighteye arc, which is the last 20% of the fic, but I would say it really starts to hit its stride by chapter 9~10? If you aren't enjoying it by then it's probably fair to expect it won't catch your interest later.

I can't believe no one has written any "self insert as Bakugo" fanfics... - https://archiveofourown.org/works/17662220 -- 70k words, infrequent updates -- I like this one for taking a weird as hell premise and REALLY rolling with it. It's somehow pretty similar to a lot of more positive takes on Bakugo's relationship with the Midoriyas while also being very much it's own thing. The author is NOT "far out of high school" though -- it's hilariously clear from the SI's reactions to certain quirks that the writer started this while taking lower division universtiy physics (and personally I love that). Also appreciate SI!Bakugo's war with Nedzu to get proper counseling and mental health support for class 1-a after all the shit they've been through.

It's Over, Isn't It (it's only yet begun) -- https://archiveofourown.org/series/1269638 -- 66k words, abandoned series with several complete stories -- AU where All Might dies rescuing Tenko from AfO but other than that it's a heartwarming fix-it! Same author as YUTS, very positive portrayal of Nighteye, excellent character writing for many other characters.

Subject: A Comprehensive Report -- https://archiveofourown.org/works/16037609 -- 83k words, infrequent updates -- another very popular fandom staple, but hey it's really good! A social media fic with quirkless Izuku interning with Nighteye as an analyst. Has some very interesting exploration of the legalities of Hero Society and how the status quo developed.

For Fools and Utopias -- https://archiveofourown.org/works/22547254 -- 89k words, updates regularly -- okay grace is the one who rec’d this fic to ME but to anyone stumbling across this reclist on tumblr, THIS FIC IS A MUST READ. Absolutely the BEST, more thought out and gutting portrayal of the flaws of the hero system, and how the different characters struggle with it. This fic GOT to me, hard, I’m still thinking about it a lot. Takes place roughly a decade post-canon, in an AU where Izuku never met All Might or went to UA, and nothing got fixed (yet! they’re trying!!). Features absoulely STELLAR characterization of Midoriya, Shinsou, Todoroki, his sibblings, Ragdoll, and more!!

Here’s the original request:

any of the following in any combination: - really good writing - sophisticated character work - engagements with the ethics of the hero system - some kind of actually nuanced take on the Todoroki family - anything obviously written by people who are long out of high school (sorry for being old) - adults todobaku - good looks at the villains because guess what I continue to be weak for villain stories - basically anything that's Really Good - I like grey areas 

(to clarify, I, teashoptiramisu, am not the originator of this request but I’m also interesting in reading more fic exploring these ideas, so if you have any more fic that you think meet it feel free to drop the link(s) in a reblog or send me an ask!)