#She has too many sweaters and more than enough blankets this year so. Time to get creative.

[kelpiemomma]

I think the thing I miss the most about being a kid is when my parents showed interest in my interests, paying attention to what I liked to figure out what to gift me for Christmas or my birthday. When it was a surprise. Now they ask for a list and just pick something off of it. There's no surprise or attention given to "oh, this is that thing she mentioned liking". I think that's why I'm coming to dread holidays and such every year more than looking forward to them anymore.

[bridaltrain]

talladega

summary: percy takes annabeth for a night swim and it's only one of their many mistakes (9k, explicit, mortal AU)

She turns seventeen quietly.

Quiet, in Luke’s bed, midnight passing through her phone screen without a single notification to accompany it. He’d opened the window for a smoke and he stands at the sil now, holding one out to her without a word, dressed only slightly more decently than when he’d been on top of her. She climbs onto her knees and out of the furnace of the blankets. Still hot, even at 12 AM, but what else can she expect from July, with a broken AC. Her heart thrums slowly in her chest, worn and sedated. Blinking up at him, she sits on folded legs, hands on the bare mattress—they’ll have to adjust the sheets.

Annabeth has never smoked before, but she’s seen him do it enough times. His face is plain, a little flushed, but plain. When she leans in, she really thinks he’s going to let her, this time. Idiot.

His laugh is dull and breathy, snatching the cigarette back and bringing it to his own lips and she wonders what the difference is to him, between letting her smoke and breathing in his.

She latches onto a pillow, hiding her bare chest behind it, as if it matters. He isn’t looking. The ceiling fan buzzes concerningly above them and she can hear May groaning down the hall. Neither of them pay it any mind.

“Still too young?” she prods, and this is the first thing Annabeth will say as a seventeen year old version of herself.

Her voice stalls in the apartment’s still air. Hesitant, trying to be brave.

He steps close to the side of the bed, and takes one side of her face in a big hand. She remembers what her doctor had said, about how girls don’t usually grow much more by this age and she thinks, unsure what to make of it, that she will always feel this small with him.

“If one day you want to,” he rasps, “it won’t be because I talked you through it.”

True to form, for him. Her first time hadn’t been bad, but it certainly hadn’t been gentle either. He was over that by the time he stumbled upon her, after a teenage lifetime of being his mother’s husband and then her caretaker. And Annabeth—well, she had never been the kind of girl who needed to be cared for. She raised herself with braced fists and scraped knees and Luke had gotten a thrill, she believes, of wrapping her up when she didn’t need it and he wasn’t required to do it. Her first time had not been gentle, but it was sweet. On a blanket layed out on the dirt, in the clearing way out of the city that they’d made theirs. It was spring. A butterfly landed on her shoulder just as he shrugged off her private school sweater and he’d smiled so softly, she had been reminded at that moment that he loved her. It was spring, and she was reborn.

This is what Luke does. He balances his sweetness with blood and Annabeth wishes she hadn’t fallen for the cigarette. Always so fucking eager.

He bends down, kissing her head and for a moment his blond hair curtains her view. “Happy birthday, kid,” he says.

She doesn’t know how old she needs to get before he stops calling her that.

Muffled, the sound of a door opening vibrates through the night. He drops his forehead to her scalp, breathing in deep. It’s moments like this, that Annabeth wants to lace her arms around him, hold him and the scared little kid that still lives inside him. Sometimes, she’s almost sure that he wants it too.

But this system is a delicate thing and she does not have the authority nor the heart to disturb it. She refuses to feel selfish for it because Luke needs her to feel good for something, too, and what’s more pathetic than dripping his tears on the girl exposed bare on her knees in front of him.

May cries out and her son stills.

And then, Annabeth knows it’s time to go.

She’s learned to be quick getting dressed, making herself somewhat presentable again. He escorts her out the front door before his mother can see, hunched over by a photo frame hanging on the wall between their rooms. Luke, eight years old and smiling wide in his little league uniform. He kisses her one more time at the door, and she looks at him, unable to spot the resemblance between him and that little boy. Blue eyes dull like May’s and a smile that stretches like it hurts his cheeks when he waves her off. Beautiful, anyway and always. Her heart aches like a pinched bruise as she takes the stairs down and out of the building.

He and Percy don’t live all that far apart. A couple blocks and a couple minutes if she walks fast, though Annabeth has never been particularly scared of nighttime.

She thinks there’s something other girls have that her parents had missed when they made her. The red light for danger. A cautionary yellow, even. An absent switch in her brain that she sees normal girls often flick on, at parties and school dances and dark hours. Annabeth knows danger, knows it as well as the turns she takes to make it to Percy’s. It’s only that she’d never been great at telling herself to stop.

Checking her phone again, she finds a text from Silena, a missed call from Katie. An Instagram DM from Rachel Elizabeth Dare, which is fucking stupid because there’s a reason she doesn’t have Annabeth’s number and an even better one why they’re not friends. It’s obvious she’s doing this to spite her. Playing pretend as the bigger person. She wonders if the three of them are together right now, and quickly tries to wipe the thought from her mind. Her friends wouldn’t do that to her, she’s sure.

“Annabeth.” Percy stands on the sidewalk in front of her like an apparition, shadowed into his simplest form in just the lamplight, yet there’s no doubt that it’s him. Tall and a little awkward, adjusting to the new growth spurt and eyes that catch the moonlight, shifting shades of the sea. And when she gets closer—red. Wounds poorly dressed and bleeding through, eyes rubbed raw, brown skin peeling like his face had been scraped against the wall.

Her stomach turns. She’d been waiting for a text.

“Percy,” she whispers, though she really means it to sound like baby.

Distance closed between them, his arms wrap around her, strong and shaking, and his lips are warm on her neck when he speaks. “Saw you coming.”

They’re at the opposite end of the block his apartment sits and from this she can tell two things. First, that he must’ve been sitting in his car, because it would’ve been impossible to spot her from his window. And, second, that he’d been hiding. She thinks about Luke, leaning into her, safe behind a locked door. Shuddering, too, because he wouldn’t allow himself to stay hidden for long. His parting kiss is still warm on her lips and she hopes with everything in her that he’ll make it back to bed alright.

She twists the hair at the base of his neck around her finger. “You’ve got night vision?”

“Don’t need it,” he mumbles. “You’re like the sun.”

“I don’t think your head’s right.”

“Probably.” Still holding on tight, he brings his nose to hers and grins sideways. “Happy birthday, Annabeth. Feel different?”

The side of his face that hasn’t been scraped is purple and sickly, a cut splitting the tail end of his left eyebrow. He’s so puffy he almost looks baby faced again and she wants to throw up into his neighbor's shrubs.

Instead she mirrors his smile with glossy eyes and shakes her head. “Just feel like me.”

They pull away after a moment and her phone buzzes in her pocket and it could only be Luke because she keeps everyone but him and the boy in front of her on silent. He shrugs as if telling her to check, but she keeps her hands firmly at her sides. She’s with him. And he’s bleeding.

“Is…is he up there?” she asks, gesturing towards his apartment. The blinds are open and the light is on, a flickering yellow, not warm or welcoming. You can tell just by looking at it that Sally isn’t home.

Percy twists his battered hands. “He’s asleep.”

She falters.

For as long as she’s known him, he hasn’t ever been able to fight back. Which, had been a stupid question to ask when they were twelve. Somehow, she’d been leagues more athletic, though the most sport she’d ever done was run from home on the bad days. He was shorter, too, and craning up at him now she misses what it had felt like to hug him like she could protect him at all. It was a stupid question, but she’d asked it regardless and Percy answered not without rolling his eyes at her first. He’d snap my head off, he’d said. Which may have been true for the time before puberty had kicked the boy he is today into full gear. Broad shoulders that propel him to first place in every swim meet and arms that ripple with lean muscle and hands that can cut like a knife. She never supported the school fights, but she’d be an awful friend to not be proud of him after he won.

Now, Percy doesn’t fight back and it always comes back to Sally. But his knuckles are split and there’s a strange inkling of satisfaction on his face and he says he’s asleep.

“How long?” she treads.

His chest inflates with deep, heavy breaths and she notices there’s a hole at the neckline of his shirt, an old one she’d picked out for him at Goodwill back to school shopping, keen on how it would look on her, too. “I think…” he runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t think we should go up.”

Annabeth nods slowly. “My place?”

“Is that where you wanna spend your birthday?”

It’s not where she wants to spend any day, really. Almost completely, she lives with Luke. Until his mother has an episode and then he sends her off, and she crashes with a friend. Her room at home belongs to a girl she isn’t and Annabeth is in no mood to comb through the cobwebs.

“What other option is there?”

He shrugs and tries uselessly to hide the wince. “We get in the car.”

“And drive?”

“Wherever you want, birthday girl,” he says lazily, a flirtatious invitation, and if it were anyone but him it might’ve sounded sleazy.

In his passenger seat, Annabeth decides she wants to take him to the hospital. The problem with this is that she is in the passenger seat and Percy is behind the wheel, and when his skin peels he requires to be the one to rip it off entirely. The last thing he’d let her do is bring a doctor to question and poke at him, peering into his shitty little home and for no payoff. This isn’t a unique story, he’d told her. Gabe wouldn’t stay gone forever and his mother would suffer for it then, so he wrecks himself in the meanwhile.

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” She says this like a confession, although she hadn’t meant it like one.

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

“You need new bandages.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re really not—”

He snaps, “Would you drop it?”

Bewildered, she huffs, staring at the side of his face as he refuses to meet her eyes and she’s getting really fucking sick of the stony expression he wears so often these days. “I don’t get why you won’t just let me help.”

“I never said I needed it.”

No, she agrees. There’s a lot he doesn’t say, like what he was doing with Rachel last weekend in Montauk. The worst part was that Rachel hadn’t outright mentioned it either. Like it was a secret, like it mattered. Instead, she’d posted half-truths. A picture of her freckled legs on a Finding Nemo beach towel. A seashell. A door frame made of teakwood that hadn’t seen an easy day in a decade, a bed of messy white sheets on the other side of it.

“You haven’t said anything for a while.” Her voice is soft, which makes it sound even meaner somehow.

The engine revs and his hand strangles the shift stick. If he wasn’t bleeding from his knuckles they would be snow white. He hauls the car out of its tight parking space in one excellent motion, with confidence that tells her he knows where he’s going.

“You haven’t asked.”

“Okay. Are you dating her?”

His expression hardens, and she imagines what he might’ve looked like when he knocked the lights out of his stepfather, if there’s much of a difference. He starts on what she thinks is the path to his old school, but can’t imagine why he’d be taking there. Why he’d even want to see that establishment again.

“No,” he says. “Did you get back with Luke?”

“No.”

The sound he makes is between a laugh and a scoff. “Yeah, because you just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

She rolls her eyes, rolls her head to face out the window. They pass an old bar, killing flies even on a Friday night. Discreetly, she checks Luke’s text and relaxes into the worn leather when she knows that he's okay.

“Is it crazy to want to see you?”

He’s silent for a beat, driving the car straight but without a steady speed. She watches the speedometer flicker like a flag in the wind.

“Check your jaw,” he says eventually, quiet and rough.

Annabeth hooks her fingers into the vanity mirror, pulling it down, unready to grapple with her reflection. The two braids that rest on either shoulder are frizzy and begging to come undone. Her lips have turned a deep shade of red, bordering on purple. She tips her head back, getting a better look at her jaw—the hickey is more unsightly than it is surprising. His teeth had carved marks into her skin and she doesn’t even really remember when he’d done that, but it stares back at her now, blue and angry, and not even the traffic lights shining on her face can drown it out.

“It doesn’t mean we’re dating,” she mumbles, though she wishes she had said it a bit stronger. Who is he to take another girl to Montauk?

He holds onto a breath as he speeds through the yellow. “It’s casual, then.”

“It’s…” she recalls the day she and Luke had broken up, years ago, and she thinks about how nothing has changed. Their relationship isn’t orthodox, working better without the pretense of being his girlfriend. “It’s just how it is.”

Percy shakes his head. It’s not often he gets to be a condescending asshole, and he’s eager for the opening. He says, “He’s using you.”

For what? she wants to say. Sex isn’t difficult to find for boys like Luke Castellan, and Annabeth is hardly the best at it, anyway. Mostly, she does a lot of laying down, which works for a boy who hates to keep idle. He’d hardly appreciate it if she got up on top of him, she thinks.

“Maybe I’m using him too.”

“It’s different. He’s—he’s older.”

Exasperated, she throws her head back against the headrest. “Can we not.”

His school would usually take thirty minutes to get to by car, a fact she knows because she’d ridden with him and Sally on Monday mornings, stopping through his drop off lane first before taking her back to boarding school for the week. In the empty streets, it only takes a fraction of the time and she can see the familiar LED sign out front, red letters wishing a good summer.

“You’re not over the Rachel thing, so we kinda have to,” he says.

“Those are completely unrelated subjects—you brought up Luke. And you took her on a cozy little Montauk date to get back at me.”

Again, he shakes his head, saying nothing. The school sticks out like a sore thumb in front of them. Percy cruises to the back of the lot, hidden under the shade of an out of place tree and its drooping branches.

He doesn't look like how he drives, she thinks. So at ease taking her here, sliding between white lines, one hand on the wheel. The other rubs his jaw, and he appears every bit the antsy sixteen-almost-seventeen year old boy he is. Skin that wrinkles as he drags it before returning taught in place, and it’s too dark to tell now that the car is off but his tan is not anything special for having spent a weekend on open sunny shores.

Annabeth swings her car door open wide, the vacant spots next to them spanning out until the curb cuts through in a painted red patch, discouraging students from crossing straight into the pick-up lane. She thinks of Percy, just a little younger, eager to see his mom, dreading to go home, stepping onto the red and getting promptly yelled at by a school employee. Remembers the playful roll of his eyes when he’d see her in the passenger seat. He’d slip into the back without much complaint though, because on the days she cut class to come along, Sally was reliable in taking them to the burger place a couple blocks down.

(“Share a shake with me, Percy, please?”

Sally smirked and he sighed deeper into the booth beside her.

“What if I want my own?”

She pouted, eyeing the laminated image of the strawberries and cream shake front page on the specials menu. “I can’t finish the whole thing, but if I don’t have this I’m gonna think about it for the rest of the day, Percy, how am I going to study for pre-calc if I’m thinking about a milkshake?”

Percy surrendered and got upwards of three sips before Annabeth was licking the remnants of cream off the bottom of the straw.)

He trails behind her on the way to the side doors, the opposite end of the school where the outdoor pool carves into the pavement, which she’s realizing must be where he’d meant to take her.

“It’s locked,” he says uselessly.

Luke had taught her the credit card trick soon after they’d met. To impress her, she thinks. And it worked because he’d stayed up all night with her in the dark library, his chest warm against her back in the kid's corner while she read and he watched her read. She was young and enthralled by a hunger she’d spent so long beating down. Needless to say, she was impressed.

Annabeth does not have a credit card—but a school ID works all the same.

“That’s not gonna—”

The lock comes undone with a satisfying click and she places her hand around the nob, elated when it turns.

She smiles, smug. “What were you saying?”

It’s an old school with horrible security measures, but that’s unimportant. She lets herself in, hears the door stall as he does as well and hopes that he’ll follow just as compliantly to the nurse’s office.

“We’re gonna get in trouble,” he warns, half-heartedly, knowing he’s already lost this fight.

“They’ve already expelled you.”

“I meant with the law.”

The nurse’s office door, thankfully, is not locked. Inside, it smells like lemon and bleach and she sees a bowl of lollipops on the countertop depleted almost to the bottom. Mid July, summer school is in full swing and it’s for this reason the office is fully stocked. Not the hospital, but close enough.

They turn on the lamp next to the patient’s chair, and she crooks a brow until he sits down. It’s hard to miss the hurt that flickers over his bloodied features, fighting down the ache. He nods to the cabinet on his right and she kneels, fishing out the supplies.

She sets the bandages, alcohol, ointment, beside him on the chair, pointedly keeping her gaze down. He tries to reach for the supplies and she quickly bats his hand away.

“Annabeth,” he says.

Cotton pad saturated with alcohol, she brings it to a nasty scratch down the side of his face. He hisses, but steadies himself before saying again, “Annabeth.”

“Hm?”

“I didn’t take her.”

Her fingers shake around the tube of ointment. His hand clasps around hers.

“She was hosting some beach clean-up thing in Montauk and needed somewhere to stay—I wasn’t there with her. It wasn’t a date.” His face, when she can bring herself to see, is open and honest. Maybe a little desperate. “I’m not dating her.”

She chews her lip, trying hard to fight the relief that crashes down on her. Pointless. He’s her best friend before anyone else’s anything and she is so relieved.

Annabeth finishes working quietly. She cleans his hands and soothes his knuckles and sticks band aids where there’s still active bleeding. It’s an easy and practiced process, which makes her a little sick to think about.

“You’ve kissed her, though,” she says, her words careful. The band aid wrappers crinkle in her palms before she shoves them in the trash.

“If one kiss is indicative of dating, you and Luke must be planning a wedding.”

It’s a very sixteen-year old conversation they’re having. But Annabeth is seventeen—and single, may she add. “You have a very narrow view of sex, Percy.”

“Is that what he tells you?” he says, and she knows exactly what he thinks of sex and kisses and dating. Simply parked between the white lines—love, for boys like Percy, is only ever good. Love is his mother’s crooning voice and soft hands and confectionary scent she wears. It’s his memory of his father, lost at sea, a warm glow, an adoring smile. The man who came and swept a young Sally from her life of misery and monotony, who showed her how rough ocean waves can be a friend under his sails. A man who would have stayed, had he not been taken from them. Humanity split in his household in a perfect binary; the Sally Jackson gold standard and the Gabe Ugliano bar set deep in Hell.

Annabeth was not raised on love. She doesn’t think her father is capable of it—which is not to say he’s a horrible person for it, only that he can’t help it. Her mother had no qualms leaving her on the doorstep of a broke graduate student, and she surely didn’t care enough to send any letters. Frederick did what he could, meaning he did not do a lot. By the time she came to him, eight pounds and 3 ounces wrapped up pastel hospital cotton, he had already devoted his life to an intellectual pursuit she couldn’t fit in, no matter how tiny. The unlucky thing is that babies only get bigger. It wasn’t enough to keep her fed on formula and apple sauce, to lay her in bed as many times a day as she would accept. Annabeth quickly became old enough to take care of herself; she wanted to be loved, even if she wasn’t sure of what that meant.

She wonders, sometimes, how far she would have gone searching for it if Luke didn't find her first.

“You’re an asshole,” she decides. Because seventeen isn’t old enough to make her graceful.

For whatever reason, Percy laughs. “Yeah. Thank you. For patching me up.”

“I would rather not have to.” She leans back against the bed, their shoulders touching. “On my birthday, too.”

“I got you a present.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“It’s at home, in my safe.”

She quirks a brow. “You got me a gun?”

Of course, she’s joking. She knows that he’d hid it to keep Gabe from pawning it off for money to gamble, but she really does want a gun. He’s asleep, Percy had said. It would be an honor to do him one better.

“You are so lucky there aren’t cameras in here. Talking about firearms after breaking and entering, Annabeth, who raised you?” And then, “Don’t answer that.”

He lets himself down from the patient’s chair and the paper beneath is wrinkled, but not torn so neither of them say anything. She watches him walk to the doorway, feet planted on the tile.

“I didn’t take you here to spend the night in the nurse’s office.”

Percy is massaging one hand with the other, wringing them together with the same stress that weighs on his forehead and shades his eyes a little darker, and she wants to kiss it all better.

It would be cruel to make him doubt himself anymore than he already does. She reaches out a hand that he takes, leading them through dark hallways and out to the pool.

It’s covered, obviously. She suspects Percy is used to doing this because he instantly finds the machine to retract it, working it without hesitation. Everyone needs a place to go, she guesses.

Annabeth sits on the edge, shoes discarded. She dips her feet in once the cover has been pulled up in front of her. It’s not as hot now as it was back at Luke’s, still she didn’t expect the water to be freezing.

“You just gotta give it time to adjust,” he assures.

Fingers meekly gripping the hem of his shirt, he turns around. A second passes while a car honks down on the road, and then another before he takes it off. It’s endearing, she thinks, feeling her face heat. Though he has no reason to be self-conscious, not when she was a reliable first row attendee at his swim meets. Scars drag down his brown skin in streams of red and white, and there’s a scratch by his nape that looks particularly fresh and her mind conjures up the image of Gabe with his jagged crusty nails, digging into his tender skin, forcing his head back to get up in his face.

He’s very beautiful. Lean muscles working shyly as he moves, a face just about as pretty as God can give a boy. Quiet and angry and eager. Leaving his jeans on the deck and getting in the water to wade to her. The ripples distort his body and it's a purposeful veneer.

Annabeth suddenly feels very gross sitting in clothes that had once been on Luke’s floor.

Girls dream of having someone like him, she knows. Rachel had wormed her way into Annabeth’s friend group just to get close to him, but he could never get himself to revel in the attention like anyone else might. He declined dates with a weak I’m busy, sorry and he would keep being busy for as long as they would ask. He went with Annabeth to school dances or he didn’t go at all.

She’s not oblivious—she knows he’s waiting.

It’s black and white with him. Or, he wants it to be. She’d messed it up for him before, young and reckless and desperate. The memory leaves a sour taste in her mouth now; fourteen years old, in the corner of her dark room in her parents house. The floor, not the bed, because Percy had come to her running, drenched in sweat and springtime rain and blood, and dropped to his knees on the carpet. He’d said he did it himself. He’d gone through and reopened every little wound that patched itself over and the sobs that racked his body were too big for a kid his age, she remembers thinking. It was all too big. The police, his stepfather, the charges all dropped. Annabeth was just as young, at a loss for what to do as she cried with him. Later, she would think the only thing he needed was her presence. Someone to talk to, a friend who would listen.

At the time, she could only think about how much pain he must’ve been in. And that recently, with Luke, she’d learned of something that could numb it.

The kiss was fraught and messy. She thinks neither of them really knew what to do with it, even though it was not Annabeth’s first kiss, it was the first one she had to take the guiding role in because Percy knew even less and she kissed him until their lips were swollen and his cries had turned into breathless groans.

They were very young.

It’s a weird thought—she looks back at having sex with Percy with something like shame. None of their friends their age were doing it, too, and so they knew they had to keep it secret from them at the very least. And yet. They’d also kept it a secret from each other, even though they had done it together, even though neither of them would ever forget. She had felt dirty and wrong and—infectious.

It was glaringly apparent that he would have never done anything close to the sort had she not initiated it. Had she not already lost her virginity to a boy her friends didn’t know about yet because they wouldn’t get it. Luke was her first love in every sense; Annabeth was also wise enough to know their relationship wasn’t right. Sex with him hadn’t made her feel bad about herself, though. His praise, his touch wrapped around her like a halo.

Yet she remembers the silence from Percy in the week following what they’d done, she remembers thinking that she’d been doomed to a life of wrong kinds of love, and that she had become the poison.

She’s older now. And not much has changed, she realizes. Except Percy, paused a foot away from her in the water as his phone vibrates back where he’d left it, knowing now what he hadn’t those years ago. Knowing, and still waiting for her.

“You don’t have to answer it,” she offers, finding her voice.

He doesn’t listen.

He’s pulled away from her again, back where he’d started. At the other side of the pool, his phone shines in the night as he answers the call and the rest of the night is contingent on this one moment. His finger, a green accept button, and a choice.

For the first time, it occurs to her she may not be the only one missing the cautionary switch in their brain.

She knows by the way his face drops that the voice on the line must be the last one he’d ever wanted to hear.

Like on autopilot, Annabeth tugs off her own clothing, stripping down to her bra and underwear. Her hands grip the deck as she lowers herself into the shallowest end. She walks until she can’t and then half-strokes her way to him. Just deep enough that the water comes up to cheeks if she stands firmly on the soles of her feet.

Percy listens to Gabe berate him like his hands are tied. The line is unstable and his voice is drunken, but she makes out enough. You’re fucking lucky your mom isn’t home, ya know that. Fucking useless. I’ll kill you. Try coming home, boy. I’ll kill you both. She never wanted your sorry ass anyway. Useless bastard. Ruined what was left of her miserable fucking life.

She shakes her head, wishing it could stop, knowing it’s not her place to cut the call. Percy, she mouths, vocal chords failing her.

His eyes are hard set and it’s difficult to tell if he believes what he’s hearing. The logical part of her knows it’s not true. Sally lives for Percy, and Annabeth knows she regrets Gabe every day. She wishes she could tell him this, but he won’t hang up and if Gabe hears her voice it’ll only set him off even more.

She shakes his arm, urging him to wake up, to do something. She wants him to have the satisfaction of hanging up. If anyone deserves the last word. Where was the boy who’d smiled so smugly, who’d knocked out his life’s bully without any remorse?

Paralyzed, apparently. Frozen still until an angry growl and something like glass smashing rings over the line before it cuts.

“Percy?” she’s holding onto the edge with one arm to keep her head out of the water. Her braids are half-soaked.

He stands with his chin comfortably as dry as his eyes.

“He’s lying Percy, please tell me you know that—”

“It’s okay, Annabeth,” he says, scarily calm.

“No, it’s—”

“It’s okay,” he repeats. His hands find hers, gripping them tight and she thinks he’s trying to stop them from shaking. “Don’t worry.”

This is a horrible thing to ask of her, but she sees the expression on his face, open and in need, and she’s starting to understand what he means. Because their first time together had been fueled almost entirely on her worry and he doesn’t want that now, and when he inches closer to her, dropping a hand down to her thigh to coax it around his waist to hold her steady in the deep end, she sees the green light.

This time, Percy gets to kiss her first.

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[devskindawritingblog]

Dating Jackie Taylor Christmas HC’s (1996)

( I forgot to do the Christmas colours on Shauna’s and I’m to lazy to go back )

This girl loves Christmas 

It's her favourite holiday of all time

It's literally 11:59 pm on Halloween, and she starts talking about how it's almost Christmas

Wakes you up every morning for the weeks before Christmas and tells you how many days there are until Christmas

Blasts Christmas music all the time

You have to physically restrain her when you pass by a Christmas section at a store because she is going to want to buy anything she sees

I feel like as a kid, her Christmases were also pretty good

I mean, we saw her house in the pilot, and it looked pretty big

It's fair to say her parents have some money

So as a kid, she probably also got what she wanted and still does

She wants to do  every single Christmas thing with you

Ice skating, making cookies, snow angels, hot chocolate, watching Christmas movies

Jackie loves the idea of snow and look 

She likes the “ snow aesthetic”

But she doesn't like snow in general

If she survived long enough in the wilderness to actually get to winter, she would be whiney and refuse to get water or do anything

That girl is not shovelling snow or being outside in the snow for more than 10 minutes

She makes excuses for not being able to do it

“It’s too heavy” 

“It’s too cold”

“My arm hurts today; I can’t”

She sits outside at the front window, watching you shovel, with a warm drink in her hand, wearing your sweater

On that note, she also steals all your clothes as it gets colder

You wake up one morning and go to grab a sweater, and you have none

Because they are all in her room, somewhere

She is the coldest person on the planet

She is cold all year round, but in winter she transforms into an ice cube

She has multiple fuzzy blankets, and she is clinging to you 

She has freezing hands and shoves them under your shirt to warm them up

She wants to have a Christmas party where she invites the whole team

She decorates her house all nice and festive

And ends up putting up mistletoe in her doorway and then pretends she didn't when you walk in 

“Oh look! It's mistletoe, I guess we gotta kiss 😏”

“Jackie, it's literally your house”

She's the type of person to subtly drop hints about what she wants for Christmas

In a way that's not even a little bit subtle

Wakes you up early on Christmas to go open presents

Wears some form of red dress with some fluffy white accents

Gets everyone Santa hats

She is quite good at wrapping gifts

She likes to make them look all nice with a few ribbons and a bow

Paints her nails red, green, and white

And if she is able to convince you to get matching nails, she will paint yours too

She would also be into matching outfits

She pouts until you finally give in to her

I feel she wouldn't wear like an ugly Christmas sweater but just something with Christmas colours 

[white-noise-and-binary]

Todestag (04.01.2025)

I woke up sneezing after spending the night on my grandmother’s foldout. Despite her constant cleaning I still manage to find dust in every crack and crevice of the oaken flooring of this room, behind the shelved books, floating in the air we breathe. To limit the dust that accumulates from the bodies that inhabit this house and for its own health, the walls themselves need to breathe twice a day. Germans lüft their houses because they don’t have central ventilation. It’s a cardinal sin to avoid this and a condition of all rental agreements that this is done regularly. During warmer parts of the year this works well, especially in more rural areas where you can avoid the soot from car exhaust and cigarette ashes wafting in from the city. In the winter this proves more problematic. Walking through her home and turning off all the radiators in the correct order is a routine I have now memorized and a pathway timed to perfection. My body truly wakes as I bundle up in a jacket and tuck the rat of a dog deep under the blankets before pulling the tilt windows wide to the walls.

On a still day, the house’s breath creeps past your feet while the internal heat escapes past your torso, pulling you closer to each window. When I look out over the sills I’m greeted with a quiet unsalted street that descends west to the hoarfrost covered tallgrasses of the Ruwer valley, or silvered vineyards pruned and dormant along shale hills to the north. Crystalline fog slowly ascends up the hills surrounding Mertesdorf to the forester’s pines that stand watch over the valley. I finish airing out the rooms and close the windows, turning the radiators back to their previous levels, then sit in the freshly aired out kitchen for a coffee.

Many food items in this house are stored at room temperature. While most shouldn’t be, I think Oma rationalizes it because the house is too cold for her comfort. The radiator is crackling with water pressure but she’s bundled up in a fleece sweater and another is tied around her as she sits at the kitchen table for breakfast. She’s perched on the edge of her seat to allow Hermann to nestle himself between the warmth of her back and the back of a textile chair, glancing occasionally out the window to a birdfeeder on the patio.

In winter the stairwell seems cold enough to safely store vegetables and fruits, but in the kitchen an open carton of pasteurized milk lays forgotten by the espresso machine. One remaining chicken Schnitzel incubates in what can only be an ancient, likely original, Tupperware container on the counter. Oma Edith must have learned this storage habit from her mother, as her cupboards are still filled with teas and other nonperishables left over from Oma Luzia. The cellar even has a few rare vintages of canned peaches I’d be interested to have genetically sequenced. They perished decades ago, but there’s a unique code for life in there somewhere. At least the pasta sauce I made for Edith two days ago luckily found itself enough room to sit snug inside her shrinking mini fridge, so I think I’ll stick around and we can have that later as “etwas warmes für Mittag.” We say our good mornings. She mentions that I will probably catch a cold if I keep walking around with bare feet or in short sleeves. She says the chill shakes her bones and joints and makes her feel stiff.

The day usually starts with my Oma pouring a splash of warm milk into a coffee mug she used the day before and likely the day before that. She sits with the Trierischer Volksfreund she never manages to find the time to fully read, flipping through the obituaries to see if she knows anyone and reciting horoscopes that I listen to more for her sake than my fate. She tells me what the stars say about my day, or Paul’s, or her own. While readings of luck and fate from the stars are funny things that I don’t believe in, I humor her and listen and love that she enjoys it. Whether that ink of fate exists or not, we all end up as ink on a page in an obituary and you can count your lucky stars if you’re worth remembering. So I let her believe in astrology and heaven and make a mark of this for my own memory.

She stands up from a plate of wheat slices with quark and jam to take her medication, then tells me that it’s Oma Luzia’s Todestag. I always thought ‘Todestag’ was a bit blunt even for German, a word that doesn’t feel the same in English — ‘day of death’ feels too scientific, but then ‘anniversary of death’ sounds almost too celebratory to be a real alternative. I have rarely heard or used the word, but today it means something more than its semantics. Luzia Hammes died on this day in 2008. Everyone I have ever met has said she was a force of light and one of the purest people who have ever existed. So I asked my grandmother about her mother and she told me about this day 17 years ago, when her mother lay deep under blankets and didn’t have the energy to leave her bed.

A few days had already passed and things were beginning to look grim. Luzia was cold and quiet and bedridden and kept raising her hands in the air as if reaching out to heaven. She very well might have been praying, truly reaching out for a helping hand that would bring her back to her family before her. What she expected from heaven I cannot say, but she needed a new home. Habitzheim was always too far away. She built a good life along the vineyards here in Mertesdorf, but she was going somewhere and going soon. Oma was a helping hand while she was still here, but she called the pastor when it was beyond her control. The man answered the phone and exclaimed how convenient it was for him, as he soon had a meeting at the church in Mertesdorf and could swing by while on his way there. Oma, Sabine, and the man congregated chairs to the side of her bed and they prayed. Oma distinctly remembers how the man had to speak loudly over Sabine’s tears so that Luzia could hear him, saying “Luzia! Mach dich auf dem Weg!”

Luzia stayed as long as she could under her blankets, but later the same day she left. Despite the renovations, I can still feel her presence in the marks her shaking hands left around the keyholes, on the shelves in the cellar lined with her canned peaches that expired decades ago, and outside, where chalk scrawls remain on a wooden door by the laundry room, warning people not to smoke there.

In the last decade of her life she rarely left the house, the brief rides to neighboring Trier were like vacations. The three hour hour route to her hometown of Habitzheim was a distance considered unthinkable, a far away land whose expeditions could be counted on one hand after she left over six decades earlier. But she built her house on the hill in the days when the forest was still in her backyard, when the suburban streets had yet to creep further like vines into the vineyards, and when things felt simpler, smaller, and removed.

[kaimelia]

and maybe we won't feel so alone

"Good morning," Kai whispers as Amelia curls into their body and throws her arm across them. They weave their fingers into her hair from the base of her neck.

"Mm," she sighs, tucking her face into their neck. Their nails gently rake against her scalp.

"I have plans for us today." She lifts her head, stifling a yawn and meeting their eyes.

"I'm assuming you're not going to tell me what we're doing, are you?"

"Nope," they grin, tossing the comforter off their body and standing. "But, you may want to wear something you can move around in." Her eyes widen as she watches them trade their pajamas for proper clothes. "And layers. It'll be cold in the morning and again in the evening."

"Please tell me this isn't too physically intensive."

"I promise it's not," they hold their hand out to her and tug her out of bed, neatly tucking the comforter under the pillows after she gets up. "And, we're just getting breakfast first."

"Is there something going on that I don't know about?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have plans for us that aren't just laying in bed all day. That's not really something we do." They roll their eyes in amusement as she pulls a sweater over her t-shirt.

"I like fall. And, you've yet to explore most of this state or even this town, so I figured we could get out of this apartment for a day."

"Only if our breakfast place has incredible coffee," she grumbles, putting on a pair of leggings.

"Do you really think I would take you somewhere that didn't have decent coffee?"

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

"Are you a regular here?" Amelia takes a sip of her coffee and sets it on the table.

"Not really. I honestly don't eat out much; I either order delivery or cook."

"How do you know the barista then?" Kai's face goes pink.

"Let's just say that there aren't that many queer people in this town," they laugh softly. "It was a one-night thing."

"Now I know how you feel walking down the halls of Grey-Sloan."

"I at least get to take pride in the fact that I'm taller than your exes," Kai winks and nudges her foot under the table.

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

"We'll have to come back in the summer; they have amazing ice cream and a ton of people bring blankets and just set up on the lawn there," they wave toward a grass area. "We can rent a kayak or something and go down the water."

"I'll only agree to that because I trust your swimming skills enough to save me if we tip over." They stick their hands into the pockets of their sweatshirt and laugh.

"Are you a swimmer at all?"

"We lived near a lake when I was little, so I probably wouldn't drown, but I'm not the strongest swimmer."

"So, you would need to be saved in a moment of panic."

"Exactly." Amelia nudges them with her elbow. "I'm glad you know why I keep you around." They nudge her back.

"How about ice skating?"

"I went a few years ago and fell so many times that it hurt to sit down for a month," Amelia mutters. "Why? Were you a figure skater?"

"Do I seem like the type?" They widen their eyes and raise their eyebrows until she shakes her head. "Sometimes, I take a trip upstate in the winter with some friends. The lakes freeze over, and you can bundle up in sweaters while you skate around."

"Did you grow up around snow?"

"Only once during my childhood. When I went to college, I fell in love with snow and everything about the winter up north." They link their arm through hers. "You?"

"I grew up around it. I don't hate it, and I guess I like winter more than not."

"You don't even get real winter in Seattle," Kai shakes their head. "You've gotta spend a week up here in January. We can go to a cabin up north and bundle ourselves in blankets after we ice skate and make snow statues." 

"You've got this all planned out, huh?"

"I told you that I love winter."

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

"Do you think we'd still be here if I had taken up your offer for dinner all those months ago?" Kai raises their eyebrows as they twirl pasta around their fork.

"I'd hope in some capacity, yeah. Things may have happened a bit sooner, but I don't think a singular dinner would've dramatically changed the course of our relationship." Amelia nods, taking a sip of water as she holds their gaze. "You think about that a lot?"

"I spent the entire plane ride that night wondering, and I barely got any sleep. I was honestly worried I had passed up my opportunity to go out with you."

"I'll be honest; part of me was a little worried you were just trying to let me down easy." Her head tilts to the side, and she pouts out her lip. "I mean, it was pretty obvious that there were feelings, but I didn't know if you were open to a relationship, let alone doing long-distance."

"Have you done long-distance before?" Kai sets down their fork and clasps their hands together.

"When I was in college, my first real relationship. She transferred schools after our first year. It was a four-hour drive, which doesn't feel like long distance now, but as a broke college student without a car, we were a world apart. And then, I moved to Minnesota and did long-distance with my partner at the time."

"How'd that go?"

"Well, I didn't date again until you came along, so I'll let you take a guess." They bite the inside of their cheek and shrug. "You?"

"Never," she shakes her head. "I was a little hesitant, but I figured we'd both be traveling back and forth for work enough that it wouldn't be unbearable."

"It's much easier when you're both adults and can write off flights as work expenses," they smirk. 

"And with facetime. I think it'd be much more difficult if I couldn't see you every day and just sit on the phone with you."

"You know what else phones are good for?" Amelia blushes as they wink at her.

"We're at a fancy restaurant. I don't think it's appropriate to start talking about phone sex," her eyes widen as she speaks.

"I was going to say texting, but if that's where your mind went," they murmur, and Amelia kicks them under the table.

"Yeah, I totally believe that's what you were going to say."

"I'm glad you understand me so well."

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

"Could you grab that for me?" Amelia points, standing on her tiptoes and pointing at a book on the highest shelf. Kai grabs it, gently hitting it on the top of Amelia's head before handing it to her. She pouts and tucks it under her arm. "You realize that I'm average height, right? It's not like I'm obscenely short or something."

"You're obscenely shorter than me," they wrap their arms around her from behind, resting their chin on her head.

"I haven't taken the time to read a book in what feels like forever."

"I didn't for the longest time. Reading just felt like work for school, but I've found that it can be a good way to get out of my head." Their arms fall from her waist, one gently dragging across her back as they step away. "I could justify coming to the library or a bookstore more than sitting in my apartment alone forever. No one will really try to talk to you, but it feels social enough."

"Reminds me of being in school and camping out in the library all night." Kai crouches and pulls a book off the shelf. "Feels like sleep deprivation and stress." They nod in agreement and stand, flipping through the pages of the book in their hands.

"It's almost comforting, huh? We spend so much of our lives cramming our brains with knowledge, and then we get into the real world and become the ones who share that knowledge." Amelia bites her lip and hums.

"Very profound." Kai snorts softly, reaching over and linking their pinky through Amelia's.

"There's a couch back here," they gently pull at her finger. "It definitely feels more homey than my college library."

"Less fluorescent lighting definitely helps." She follows them as they flop back onto the couch. "Am I allowed to ask why we're here?" They shrug.

"I found a lot of comfort in this place. I wanna start sharing things like this with you. We spend so much time in bedrooms and labs, and sometimes I just want to hold your hand in public and explore." The corners of Amelia's lips turn upward, and she leans back into the cushion, watching as Kai opens their book. Her face softens as she sees them settle, their eyebrows furrowing gently as they scan their eyes over the page. She pulls her legs up onto the couch and opens to the first page of the book in her arms.

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

"It's about 30 minutes away. And this is the last thing I have planned."

"Are you, Kai Bartley, taking me to watch the sunset?"

"Are you, Amelia Shepherd, going to tease me for trying to do something nice?" The brunette fastens her seatbelt and lolls her head to look at them.

"No, I love it. I can't remember the last time someone put this much effort into doing something romantic." They turn the radio on and place their hand on her thigh as quiet music fills the car. "Is this going to be a hike, though? Because I don't know if I have that much energy in me."

"It's not that far. We'll drive most of the way up, and then it's just a short walk from the car. And, if you really need, I can always carry you."

"I mean, if you're offering," she shrugs, lacing her fingers through theirs.

"If you do want to go hiking, though, let me know. I spent my first few months in Minnesota exploring every hiking trail within a two-hour drive of Rochester."

"You're into hiking?"

"A bit. It helped me clear my mind. Adjusting to a new state and home while going through the end of a relationship was a lot to handle."

"Why'd it end? If you don't mind me asking." She squeezes their hand.

"I gave her the option to come with me, to move in together and take things to the next level. She was going to and then decided she couldn't right before we were supposed to move. There was a month of her telling me it would happen, but it always fell through until she finally told me she didn't want things to get more serious." Kai exhales heavily as the car comes to a stop at the traffic light. "I think it was good for me in the long run. I took the time to learn how to be independent and figure out what I wanted with my career."

"But breakups still suck." Amelia puffs out her cheeks.

"They really do," Kai chuckles. "Promise me we won't do that?"

"You're not getting any argument from me." Her eyes close in relaxation as Kai softly sings along to the radio, drumming rhythms on Amelia's thigh with their fingers.

Before she knows it, they park the car and turn off the engine, turning to look at her in the light of the car. "You ready? We should make it just in time for the sunset."

"Yeah," she leans over the console and captures their bottom lip between hers.

"As much as I want to sit here and make out with you," they mutter, kissing her again, "let's get moving." She feigns a groan and steps out of the car, following them as they open the trunk. "It's gonna get a little cold, so here." They pull a hat onto her head and hand her gloves before grabbing their own hat. "Alright, ready?"

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

"Here we are," Kai sighs, squeezing Amelia's hand as they tug her toward a bench. She sits beside them and leans her head on their shoulder, smiling as they lean against her. 

"You okay?" She asks after a while, running her thumb over the back of their hand. "Not that I mind the day's worth of events, but it's a bit out of the ordinary for our typical weekend activities."

"If I tell you something, can you promise not to get upset?" Amelia lifts her head from their shoulder and raises her eyebrows. 

"That's a very loaded question. I don't know if I can promise because if you're about to break up with me, I may get a little upset."

"Just a little?" They chuckle. "No, it's not that." They're silent for a moment as they look up at the sky and pull their legs to their chest. "It's my birthday."

"Today?" There's a layer of shock in her voice. Kai shrugs. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Historically, my birthday has never been a good day for me. Everyone loves making a huge deal out of it, as if I'm the only person to have a birthday, and you know just how much I love attention. And, it normally means phone calls from family and birthday cards signed with 'you'll always be my little girl,' or something along those lines," they whisper, sighing gently as their chin rests on their knees. "Anyway, that's why I asked you to come out this weekend. I want to start making good memories on my birthday to replace all of the dread and fear that surround this day in my mind." Amelia purses her lips tightly before she scooches closer to them and wraps her arm around their body. 

"Did it work? Today, making good memories for this day?" 

"Yeah," they nod, letting out a shaky exhale as Amelia leans her head back onto their shoulder. "It's the first time I've actually put effort into making this a good day and being honest about things. I got to take the person who means the world to me to the places that mean a lot to me. But, I'm dreading going home and finding whatever mail's been delivered."

"Do you wanna head home and burn all the birthday cards waiting there?" Kai chuckles, wiping their nose with their sleeve as they sniffle. 

"That sounds wonderful," they smile, blinking away the last of the tears in their eyes. "Sorry, I'm usually not a crier."

"You're not allowed to apologize for crying when you sit on the phone with me practically every week while I cry," Amelia sits up and kisses their cheek, taking their face in her hands and gently tracing her thumb down their cheekbone. "Crying's good. Better than keeping it all inside. And, for the record, I'm not upset with you for not telling me it was your birthday. Although, you will have to let me get you at least a little gift."

"You don't have to do that," they take her hand in theirs and stand, their tightly laced boots crunching the leaves below them. "You already flew out here for the weekend, and we spent the entire day together. That's more than enough." Amelia sighs as they pull her up and lead her back to the path.

"Then you're not allowed to get me anything for my birthday."

"That's not fair because you enjoy your birthday, so there's actually a reason to celebrate." She groans, and Kai breathes out a laugh at her dramatics. "Although, I do have an idea for a present if you really feel the need to get me something." Amelia grins.

"And what would that be?"

"An orgasm or two. Or, a few more."

"Now that, I can do easily." She swings their arms upward. "Does this start when we get home, in the car, or do you want me to get on my knees right now?" Kai snorts and pushes her gently with their body.

"Happy birthday, you're arrested for public indecency," they mutter under their breath, rolling their eyes. "We'll see how many cars are in the parking lot when we get down this hill," they whisper into her ear and slide their arm around her waist. "Tinted windows come in handy."

[yukidragon]

Our Life Mini Moment - Christmas Shopping

In the spirit of the season, here is a little bit of Christmas-themed fluff with a teenage Cove and Jamie from Our Life: Beginnings & Always, set between steps 2 and 3.

Merry Christmas to you all, and I hope you have a lovely holiday season.

@gb-patch

...

Christmas time in southern California didn’t match up with the traditional image of the season touted in TV shows and movies. Instead of blankets of snow covering the ground in pearly white, there was green grass and sunny days that rarely got nippy enough to require a sweater. Still, most houses and businesses got into the spirit of the season, stringing up lights along the edges of buildings, as well as the occasional palm tree as a substitute for the traditional pine.

The mall especially went overboard when it came to decorating for the holiday season. Red, green, and white practically dominated the décor, with some stores lining their windows with fake snow and icicles to give a true ‘winter’ feeling. Christmas music rang out through every nook and cranny, and there was no place to look without seeing some colorful poster reminding shoppers that there were only so many days left to shop before Christmas arrived.

For as noisy, gaudy, and crowded it could get during this time of year, Jamie still enjoyed browsing around the mall, taking in the sights of the season. Even something as hectic as shopping for Christmas gifts was nicer for the surroundings. What made it even more enjoyable was sharing the experience with her partner.

Jamie turned away from a waving inflatable Santa in time for Cove to finish his transaction with the cashier. “Ready to go?” she asked once he stepped away from the line.

“Yeah, all set,” Cove said as he looped his newest bag onto his arm to go with the others. He beamed, his sunny smile sparkling brighter than the decorations around them. “That was the last gift I needed. I’m ready for Christmas.”

“That’s great,” Jamie said brightly as she looped her arm around Cove’s, mindful of the bags they were carrying.

Cove let out a pleased hum at the close contact even as a blush graced his cheeks. “What about you?” he asked once they left the store behind. “Did you get everything you wanted?”

Jamie was quiet for a moment before letting out a sigh and shaking her head. “I’ve still got to get a gift for my aunt and uncle.” Another sigh escaped her, one more put upon and overly dramatic as she flopped her head against Cove, her cheek squishing against his shoulder. “I have no idea what to get them.” She let out a small huff. “What do you get for the couple that has everything and enough money to buy it all over again?”

Cove chuckled softly at his girlfriend’s theatrics, though he caught hints of real frustration underneath it all. He readjusted his hold on his bags so that he could give the arm she wrapped around his a gentle pat. “It’ll be okay. Some store is bound to have something they’ll like.”

Jamie looked up at Cove, her cheek still smushed against him. “I hope so.” She straightened up, her exaggerated drama fading to a more genuine concern. “It might take a while though, and it’s already getting pretty late. How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” Cove said. Though his answer was sincere, he had to admit that spending an entire day dealing with a crowded mall full of frazzled shoppers was slowly wearing him down. The only reason he lasted so long was likely because of the special person by his side the entire time. “How about you?”

“I’m okay too, except for this present thing,” Jamie said before letting out a quiet sigh as she spotted a nearby clock on the wall. “Elizabeth is probably going to be meeting up with us soon. I’ll probably have to ask her to bring me back here tomorrow, or see if one of my moms can do it.”

Getting around without a driver’s license was rough, but Jamie still had a couple more weeks before she turned sixteen. Even then, it didn’t mean she was necessarily going to get her license on her birthday, and it might be a while longer after that before she could start driving herself around to various places. Cove had recently turned sixteen, but he wasn’t too keen on getting a license of his own yet. He didn’t feel quite ready to drive, needing more time to mentally prepare himself for all the responsibility and risks it entailed. This meant that the two of them still depended on others to give them rides if they wanted to go someplace outside of walking distance from home.

“I don’t mind coming back with you to help you finish your shopping,” Cove said as he offered Jamie a gentle smile.

Jamie relaxed a little at the reassurance and returned the smile with one of her own. She had been hoping Cove would keep her company if she had to come back to the mall, and she gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Thanks. You’re the best partner ever.”

The praise and affection sent Cove’s pulse racing, and he faltered for a moment, stammering out half words before he could manage a response. “I’m not… you’re the one who’s so…” He trailed off as he found himself tongue tied and red faced, fumbling for a way to put into words just how amazing Jamie was to him.

Despite his fumbling, Jamie still received the message loud and clear. Her gaze softened with affection, and she stepped closer to press her lips against his. The kiss was brief, but wonderful, and for the moment they lost themselves in it, the crowd around them practically melting away to leave the pair in their own little world.

When the kiss ended, a soft, happy sigh escaped Cove, and for a moment he had to stop to admire the flecks of light that sparkled in Jamie’s dark blue eyes, a glittering sight that put all the Christmas decorations around them to shame. As tempting as it was to simply stay lost in her eyes, he knew that their time was running short. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s try to squeeze in one more store before Elizabeth comes to drag us home.” He forced himself to look away, scanning the area for any places that looked promising. “How about that one?”

Jamie looked to where Cove nodded his head and spotted the store he indicated - a rather sizable gift shop full of many miscellaneous items for various occasions. It seemed promising. “Okay, let’s go.”

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand) 

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.  ҉   next.

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Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it. 

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge. 

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too. 

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view. 

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”. 

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute. 

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets. 

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance. 

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?” 

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over. 

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae. 

looking hot, her message read. 

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[hansolmates]

distance learning (m)

banner done by the beautiful @eerieedits​

summary; after their first hookup, jungkook isn’t so sure whether you’re serious about being exclusive. after all, people say things during sex. jungkook takes it in his own hands to figure out where you stand, and he realizes soon enough that eavesdropping is a bad habit pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, crack, insecure!jk, unresolved sexual tension, stressed!mc, this is really just unnecessary drama bc drama is fun™, sexting, dom kook’s still a meanie in control, posession kink, cock slapping, a blowjob, cockwarming, unprotected, creampie, squirting, (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) and of course the excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 6.1k a/n; haaaaaa three months later im finally posting pt 2! i figured that no matter how many times i edit/reread at this point i think it’s time to finally let this beast go!!! enjoyyy click here for part 1: remote learning drabbles; 01

if you enjoy this, please considering giving our pasta couple a like n’share💚

It’s been a week since the thing.

The remote-controlled vibrator thing. 

The whole sappy-love-confesion-during-sex thing. 

Jungkook is antsy, tail tucked in, perpetually wondering whether he went too far. You seemed to like it, and Jungkook definitely loved it. It was spicy and dirty and hot, and at the same time Jungkook thought he really made progress in expressing his feelings for you. Not only that, you said you liked him back!

At least, he thought you did. 

“I really said I’d feed her lasagna and cum in the same sentence,” Jungkook bemoans into his pillow, which still lingers faintly of your Redken shampoo. “I’m disgusting. She thinks I’m disgusting.” 

People say things during sex, Jungkook knows that. In the throes of passion and pleasure, people will say anything that comes to their mind, anything that fits the mood. Of course, you’d be tied in and say you like him back. But did you like him back as a friend? As a fuckbuddy? As something more? 

“Fucking text her,” Taehyung is tired of Jungkook’s wallowing, everytime he checks in on the app developer he’s brooding in one of three places. Today’s his bedroom. Taehyung dips under the blankets, and steals Jungkook’s pillow right under his nose.

Jungkook suppresses a whimper, face melding into the blankets. Now that pillow is going to smell like Taehyung.

“Text her what,” Jungkook replies despondently. 

“I don’t know, something along the lines of ‘I wanna follow through with my proposition of feeding you my cum and lasagna—not simultaneously. Wanna go on a date this weekend?’ It’s that simple,” Taehyung gets up in Jungkook’s face, dark eyes forcing him to bore right in. “Want me to do it for you?” 

“Noo, I’m an adult I can—”

“I did it for you.” 

Jungkook nearly knocks into Taehyung’s hard head, sitting up straight when he notices his phone behind his roommate’s back. This is what he gets for sharing passwords. Thankfully, the message is cleaner than Taehyung’s words, and you’ve already replied. 

[1:23] Jungkook: would you like to go out for dinner this weekend? pasta and wine?

[1:25] You: it’s a busy week this week 🥺 raincheck? 

“Was the sex that bad?” Taehyung frowns, reading the message twice. 

“N-no,” Jungkook is sweating. He isn’t sure anymore. 

Taehyung hands Jungkook back his phone, slowly, as if you’ll reply back with a change of your mind. Jungkook is a deflated balloon on his bed, feeling like a bum in his ratty sweater and a dateless weekend. 

“It’s just that,” Taehyung puts a hand on his lip, mulling, “busy people don’t reply that fast. Like even if she wasn’t busy, there’s a fifteen-minute leeway before replying.” 

This silly rule overrides Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the week. 

The gyms have been reopened for months, and Jungkook’s trainer misses him dearly. Jungkook meets with Saeroyi in the morning, eager to get a few jabs in with some fresh equipment. He tries to move on, distract himself with a couple of pumps and a match with Saeroyi. It feels great to sweat it off, but it doesn’t help sway Jungkook’s incessant thoughts. 

The ball is in your court now, Jungkook has nothing to do but wait. Some people are just bad texters, maybe you just happened to have your phone near you when Taehyung sent the message. Maybe you just wanted to cut Jungkook off as quickly as possible so you decided to reply fast and rip the band-aid. 

No, you’re definitely not that cold-hearted. 

Re-entering his apartment complex, his eyes linger towards where your room lies on the first floor. It’s all the way at the end of the hallway, and he’s tempted to just confront you and make sure that what you and him really had is indeed, over. Conversely, you could just really be having a bad week and you genuinely do want a raincheck. 

Jungkook’s eyes trail to his form. Still in his gym clothes, and a little sweaty from the travel time. If he gets caught, he can just tell you he’s doing a cooldown by running across the hallways. Not the first time it’s happened, afterall it led him to you at one point. 

He breaks into a soft jog, making a beeline to your front door. His feet squish against your old welcome mat. You haven’t changed it since Halloween, and he smiles fondly at the black scripted “Boo Y’all” written in script next to a chibi-ghost. 

His heart beats faster as his hand lingers by the door, ready to knock. Deep breaths. Who knows, he could just be overthinking (like usual.) 

“Fuck, Hobi!” 

Jungkook freezes, his knuckles a centimeter away from your door. He backs up as if he’s been burned. His heart has fallen all the way down to his ass, and intends to stay there because now he feels like a damn fool. 

The bed is creaking relentlessly, a rhythmic pattern that has Jungkook’s face crumbling at every spring. Jungkook’s face hovers over the door, his ear brushing against the wood. 

“C’mon, bunny,” the male voice is teasing, “you know you love having me over. It would satisfy both of us if you’d just let it go.” 

Bunny. A cute pet name, for sure. The way it rolls off the stranger’s tongue is natural, as if he’s been saying it for years. But what about being his doll, is that not good enough? 

You’re huffy, taking deep breaths. He doesn’t want to hear anymore. Jungkook has put himself through enough self-wallowing for the week. What if he was just a stepping stone to meeting new people that will satisfy you better? What if you just needed one good orgasm to get your flow back, and Jungkook’s job is done? Sure, there were no strings attached when he proposed to have sex with you, but he thought… 

No more thinking. Jungkook jogs away from the door, even going so far is to jog all the way up to the penthouse. 

He hates this. 

You hate this. 

It’s been five days since Hoseok’s arrival, and you are going bonkers. Why couldn’t he get a hotel or an AirBnB? Because he’s cheap as fuck, that’s why. Your dinky cousin has been clinging to you like a lonely koala, and while you found it cute in the 5th grade, it doesn’t translate well nearly two decades later. 

Every morning is the same. You make a subpar toast and Nutella breakfast, letting Hoseok’s slices go cold as you log in for work. You’ve been clocking in earlier in the hopes to finish the majority of your tasks before Hoseok wakes up, because by then you can barely function. Once he wakes up, he’s relentless, bouncing on the bed and talking your head off while you try to concentrate on whatever your boss is telling you. Whenever he jumps too hard, your cheap mattress causes your laptop to fly, and the only thing you can do is curse him out. Sometimes he plays Disney movies and sings in tandem, choreography and all. 

You know that Hoseok is stressed and this is his outlet, and you don’t have it in you to stop his incessant habits. He’s visiting your area because of a lucrative job offer nearby and the interviews are sporadic, making Hoseok linger in your apartment for hours at a time until he’s summoned for whatever test they want to throw at him. 

Most of the interviews are in the evening, and it’s when you can clock back in and finish your leftover assignments while Hoseok is also working. By the time he returns, you’re dog tired and so is he. 

Every night, you try to move away from Hoseok’s clingy self, as he grapples onto your waist and slings a thigh over your belly. You wish it were someone else sharing the bed with you. 

If you bring Jungkook into the picture however, you’d be burnt for the week. Complete crumbs. It would be too much stimulation for you, having to balance work, Hoseok’s incessant attitude, and putting on a face for Jungkook. Your relationship with the penthouse neighbor is barely budding, hardly watered considering Hoseok’s sudden visit. You cling to the fact that in a couple days you would be giving your undivided attention to Jungkook, most of your priorities out of the way, and most importantly, you’ll have your own room back. 

Maybe you could surprise him by giving him a pasta dinner, just like he proposed. 

Unable to get the thought out of your head, you blindly reach for your phone on the nightstand. It’s late, very late for a workday. The blue screen burns your eyes a bit, but you're determined to at least check up on Jungkook. You can’t take too long, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep and get him out of your head. Dear, unassuming cousin Hoseok is fast asleep next to you, due to the fact it’s nearly midnight. Making sure not to disrupt him, you carefully cup your phone in your hands, putting it on the lowest light setting. 

[11:54] You: hey, hope work hasnt been as draining for u as it’s been for me  ☠️  what’s your opinion on pasta sauces, red or white? 

Jungkook is normally a fast texter, at least from your experience. It’s you that’s the sporadic texter, sometimes taking hours to reply, other times in seconds. It never really mattered until now, however. But it takes five, ten, and finally fifteen minutes before you get a response. 

[12:09] Jungkook: ??? 

You frown, wondering what you said wrong. 

[12:10] You: do you not wanna do pasta anymore? Are you craving something else now?

[12:10] Jungkook: i don’t think it’d work out 

[12:10] You: why? 

[12:11] Jungkook: im sure you know why, bunny. 

Strange. He’s never called you bunny before, and in your opinion you think he’d be the bunny in the relationship—soft and cuddly on the outside, and an absolute horn ball in bed. Is this some sort of weird power play? Is he being passive aggressive on purpose? Whatever this game is, you’re not into it. Grumbling under your breath, you snake out of bed, looking blindly for your slippers in the dark. You’ll be in and out of Jungkook’s apartment in ten minutes. 

Just as your hand brushes the doorknob, your new roommate calls for you. 

“Bunny?” Hoseok calls blearily, and you’re staring straight at his cookie-printed eye mask, “what time is it, where are you going?” 

“Um, out,” you reply shortly, “I forgot I left my laundry in the dryer.” 

“Oh, m’kay. Come back soon, y’know I can’t sleep alone.” 

It’s then you realize. Bunny. Jungkook thinks that Hoseok and you are a thing. He really needs to stop eavesdropping on you. 

You feel your pussy frown. Your cousin is such a cockblock and he doesn’t even know it. Without an answer, you slip through your door and into the first free elevator. As you zing up the floors with the magical 1234 code, you work and rework your hair in and out of its style, wondering if you’ll look more presentable with your hair messy or thrown back. 

As soon as you reach the penthouse, you burst into action. “Jungkook!” you cry, pounding the front door, “it’s a misunderstanding, open up!” 

The door immediately swings open after the first three knocks, and you punch Taehyung in the chest. 

“You look awful,” Kim Taehyung drawls. Taehyung is wearing nothing but a cranberry red silk kimono, and you have to avert your eyes and focus on his face, which is even worse because he’s looking at you like an all-knowing psychic. 

“Gee, thanks,” you try to move past him, but he’s blocking the door. 

“Jungkook’s in a meeting with some foriegn developers,” Taehyung talks with his hands, pretending like he has any idea of the nature of his roommate’s job, “when it’s this late he doesn’t leave his office until morning. Door’s locked.” 

“Well then, can you relay a message?” 

“Depends, is this message going to hurt him further?” 

Oh my goodness, when Taehyung wants to be he is such an enabler. “Tell Jungkook he’s done wallowing. Instead of jumping to conclusions, maybe he should’ve just asked me why we couldn’t go on a date this week.” 

“You could’ve also just told him you have a man on the side.” 

“Ohmygod you two are two iotas of a combined braincell!” you shove your hands in your pocket, hotly scrolling through your phone so you can shove a picture in his face. “This is Jung Hoseok, my cousin who derailed my plans this week by crashing in my too-tiny apartment and forced me to raincheck with Jungkook. He’s a blabbermouth and would tell everyone—my parents, my grandparents, my great-aunts—about Jungkook if he found out I was dating, and I’m not ready for that,” you zoom in on the picture, despite the fact that the screen is practically touching Taehyung’s nose, “and the reason Hoseok calls me bunny is not sexual—you two are fucking gross—I had front tooth problems in elementary school and I had a brace on my two big teeth, it was not pretty.” 

“Ah, bunny.” Taehyung echoes with wide eyes, looking at you as if you’re now the one with sage wisdom, “it all makes sense now.” He gulps, taking in the old photo of a mini-Hoseok and you, yourself frowning to cover your huge braces and Hoseok trying to pull your gums apart with his greasy little fingers. 

Satisfied by Taehyung’s evident squirming, you decide you’re too tired to further this interaction. “Tell the other half of your cell for me, will ya?” You’re already turning away, pressing repeatedly at the elevator button, “I would love to go on a date with him as soon as he gets his head out of his ass.” 

Jungkook is tired, but not tired enough to murder Taehyung and make it look like an accident. 

When he has late meetings, Taehyung is usually quieter around the apartment, and even gets Jungkook a hot meal once he wakes up in the afternoons. Today, Jungkook slept through and through. Normally he’d wake up midway to Taehyung’s television dramas, or the clanging of last night’s dishes but nope, not a peep. 

And today’s hot meal is takeout from Jungkook’s favorite ramen restaurant. That only means one thing—something has gone to shit and Taehyung feels guilty. 

Jungkook sips his tonkotsu impossibly slow, hearing Taehyung’s words—your words from last night—clear as day. Taehyung even describes in detail where the nickname bunny comes from, down to how miserable you looked in the photo with your monstrously metal-bent teeth. Oh, how he wishes he can swaddle you between the blankets, hold you and comfort you while you deal with your family. 

[2:45] Jungkook: doll, im so sorry

[2:45] Jungkook: please, i booked us a weekend at that new spa that just opened downtown. The tickets are flex, so if your cousin doesn’t leave by then week we can always reschedule 

[2:51] Jungkook: baby doll… 

This is far worse than believing you didn’t like him. Now Jungkook is antsy, knowing you deserve all the space in the world because of how silly he was being. You owe him nothing. If he just waited it out until you were ready, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He’s potato-esque throughout the day, thankfully Taehyung gives him space as he watches hours of mindless television. 

You don’t reply until very late into the night. 

[10:10] You: IM ALIVE--barely!! And mr. jeon, you’re not only a triple texter, but an ellipsis texter???? You’re asking for trouble

Jungkook has no shame, immediately texting you back. He can’t help it, he’s smitten. 

[10:12] Jungkook: taehyung explained everything. It’s all his fault. Don’t ask why, it’s his fault. Im so sorry. 

[10:12] You: mm, it’s okay. Just a misunderstanding. I was pretty upset last night, but i’ve been pretty tired this week so my fuse is short. 

[10:14] Jungkook: you should go to sleep now, doll. We’ll have time together after your cousin leaves

[10:14] You: just a couple more minutes. Miss u and your cute face 

[10:16] Jungkook: 

[10:16] Jungkook: will this hold u off until saturday?

Jungkook is a pile of goo. Pink, warm, happy heart-glittered goo. It takes a minute for you to reply, and for that whole minute Jungkook is kicking his legs under the sheets of his bed like an eager five-year old who just gave his crush his Valentine. Maybe it’s taking you so long to reply because you’re trying to send a selfie of your own, running off to the bathroom to take a cute selfie if your cousin is asleep in bed. 

[10:19] You: fuck, i kno that’s supposed to be a cute selfie, but i want you so bad. I want to sit on your face, let your lips glisten with my pussy as i cum all over that pretty face

[10:19] You: i wanna touch myself so badly but fuckin’ hoseok is out here snoring like he’s gon hack a lung. Panties are so wet 🥺🥺 your doll is needy for you, wanna be played with

[10:20] Jungkook: lfjsdl;fkjs;fjsoisfoisljsdfsdklfjsdklf 

He throws his phone across the bed, feeling himself twitch in his red flannel pyjama bottoms. The thought of you so hot and needy when you’re ten floors down has Jungkook absolutely livid. He doesn’t know how he’s going to talk to you, comfort you without missing you like crazy. 

Jungkook thinks back to what he has in his fridge. His contractor sent him a cheese assortment, maybe he can bring it down pretending to be a friendly neighbor. Maybe Hoseok can go to the convenience store to conveniently grab a bottle of wine. He can make both of you cum in five minutes, flat. 

Akin to a dumb, horny teenager, he sighs. He rubs his palm longingly over his member. He’s horny, but he’s also eager to see your face. Talk to you, get reacquainted with your routine and sneak his way into it. He wants to be a part of your life, and he’s hoping you will too. 

[5:02] You: Jungkook, you left me hanging last night

[5:05] Jungkook: baby doll… i wouldnt have been able to handle myself if we continued

[5:06] You: so you decided to dip :( 

[5:06] You: could u play with your doll a lil bit, kook? Hobi left for another interview

[5:08] You: PNG.0901

Jungkook was a fool to believe that you would drop him like that. No, Jungkook can see now that you two are a match made in heaven. You have a bite, never afraid to speak your mind when needed. This translates to a hunger you shamelessly share with Jungkook, both sexual and romantically intimate. He almost wishes he could’ve seen you act like a bitch to Taehyung last night, he can only imagine how sexy you looked telling him off. 

He has the technology to blow up your picture, the one that’s currently having him close his laptop and shove it to the side. He spreads his legs further across his glass desk, trying to find comfort between his tight pants as he absorbs every bit of your skin. 

It’s nothing too risque, but it’s nothing short of sensual. The room is dark, but it’s very clearly a picture of your hand between your thighs. Again, you’re between your wall and bed, squished between your office chair with your legs spread as far as they can go. Your skin is so soft looking, plush as you press two fingers between your damp panties. Adorable. 

[5:12] Jungkook: you know why i never replied last night? Because i was too busy jacking off to your dirty words doll. U really need your mouth washed

[5:12] You: wanna wash it with something else🍆

[5:12] You: please kook, i need something. Hoseok will come home soon and i might rip his head off. Help prevent a murder

Jungkook chuckles, clutching his phone closer to his body. He loves how much you’re opening up to him. Last week feels like so long ago, how you were all flushed and wide-eyed at the proposition of sex. He thinks you two can have a lot of fun getting to know each other, both emotionally and physically. 

[5:15] Jungkook: i was gonna wait until i sent this, but i think my doll needs it. Here’s what i was doing last night

[5:17] Jungkook: MP4.13

He… has a meeting in five minutes. A very important, very serious meeting. Jungkook jacked off enough last night, now it’s your turn. He hopes you like it. It’s not a very long video, barely a twenty-second clip of him fisting his cock. Taehyung was still home at the time, so he had to keep quiet. However, he couldn’t get the image of you out of his head that night, rubbing your thighs together in a cramped mattress as you try to erase the dirty thoughts of him. A murmur of your name, and the image of his precum dripping down his knuckles. You hope it’s enough. 

[5:34] You: u make everything so much easier💜✨

[5:35] You: MP4.234

Two minutes. The video you send is even shorter than his, barely fifteen seconds. You’re in a much more comfortable position, horizontal on the bed. Your shirt is ridden up to the underside of your breasts, one hand clutching your bare breast so hard he can see your cotton plush skin bulging between your fingers. The other hand has your panties shifted to the side, three fingers in your sopping cunt. 

“Mmh—fuck, f-uck Jungkook—” the words are mere breaths, puffs of air as you reach your orgasm. 

His call connects. He nearly drops his phone on the glass.  

“Jungkook!” Andreas from Germany wishes him brightly, “you look great, glowing even!” 

Jungkook blushes, and mutters something about having to go to the bathroom before they start. 

Taehyung makes himself scarce on Saturday. He packs a duffel bag for himself and takes the PlayStation, knowing it’ll be a long weekend at Jimin’s. 

Jungkook is on livewire for the morning. He even express-delivers a pasta roller to his house, and he spends all morning testing out the perfect pasta dough. His black apron is covered in flour, and he can barely comprehend the tutorial that’s teaching him on his flatscreen. 

He’s on autopilot. He hasn’t contacted you since he sent that selfie, and he doesn’t intend to. Jungkook understands why you made yourself scarce in the beginning of the week, preferring to raincheck and pin your relationship for a better time. Jungkook’s brain is overridden with you, swollen with thoughts of you. You would never be able to focus if you kept in contact like you did last night, especially if you can’t get away from Hoseok. 

Absence surely makes the heart grow fonder. 

Slapping his hands against his trousers, he surveys his handiwork. His pasta is appropriately floured and wrung, each handful of fresh dough wrapped in little nests. Off the stove is a bechamel sauce, a base ready to be cooked in whatever kind of pasta dish you want. He thinks the two of you would have fun making your own non-traditional pasta dishes. 

The soft knocks on his front door interrupts his train of thought, and he knows it’s you. 

You stand in front of the door, impossibly small in a large shirt and a plain pair of leggings. At the sight of Jungkook, a smile as warm and sweet as hot chocolate worms its way to your face, and you collapse into his arms. 

He sighs gratefully, sinking into your small body. When he pulls away, he can’t help but frown at your apparent exhaustion. You must’ve come back from something tedious, because sweat dots your brow and your eyes are still puffy and dark. Your chest arches bonelessly into his, hoping to melt in his embrace. 

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey,” he replies. 

“It’s Saturday.” 

“It is Saturday.” 

You rub your nose between the fabric of his button down, “I should’ve been more specific when I wanted to raincheck on you,” you murmur into the white cotton. 

“No, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” Jungkook whispers, even though you’re the only two people on the floor, “I’ll make it better, yeah? I’m going to love you so good tonight, won’t have to lift a finger—” 

You shake your head, looking at him calmly. “Jungkook, it’s been a long week. Hobi got the job, I spent all this morning moving his two-ton speaker set into his new apartment. I don’t want anything gentle. I want you to rail me into next week,” Jungkook chokes on his saliva when you reach to cup his dick through his pants, already sporting a chub, “fuck me breathless. I want—no, I need this.”

Anything for you, but Jungkook isn’t going to let your mouth runneth over that easily. He wants that too, obviously. But again, you’ve made him wait. 

Bending slightly, Jungkook whispers darkly into your ear, “Who said you can decide the rules here, doll?”  he’s been waiting all week to slip back into this persona, one that has you shivering delightfully under his touch. A small, secret smile tucks itself under your lips as you tilt your head down, but Jungkook catches it. It shows you’ve missed it too. He lets your sneaky smile  slide for now, only because he’s missed you so much and you’ve had a long day. 

“If I wanna fuck you rough, I’ll fuck you rough. If I want to edge you until you're sobbing on the corner of the kitchen table, I’ll do it,” Jungkook spits every declaration into your skin, biting at your shoulder so hard you cry deliciously. 

He drags you over to the living room, and he could sing at how easily you follow directions. Both of you have been tied up this week, and some hard sex would definitely ease that frustration, “Knees,” Jungkook commands, and you waste no time sinking to the floor, hands atop your knees. 

You look up through your lashes, eyes big and glassy. His poor girl is tired, and he finds it all the more attractive that you’re willing to push that aside to make eachother feel good. 

“Pretty, pretty,” he chants, pulling down his pants and letting his dick spring free, “suck.” 

You waste no time, and he watches as your eyes dilate over the expanse of his cock, half-hard and ready for your mouth. Your nails dig into your knees as you start with featherlight kisses, finally turning into sloppy smacks as you lick all over his dick. 

Jungkook groans, weaving a hand into your hair to force his dick down your throat. You gag at the sudden intrusion, but it doesn’t stop you from taking it like a champ. Hard, deep thrusts that he’s sure you can feel all the way in your stomach. You gag at each thrust, but don’t let up as your hot tongue wraps him up and licks at the pre-cum. 

“Fuuuuck, doll,” he rips you away, his now hard dick springing away. He’s a little shaky on his knees, but he plants his feet down as he grips his cock, slapping the tip of it across your cheek. It smears your face, glossing your flushed cheeks in a mixture of your saliva and pre-cum. “Are you trying to make me cum first? So sweet, you don’t even care if you cum tonight, hmm? You owe me, making you believe you had another man.” 

This isn’t true, of course. The both of you know it was just miscommunication, but it doesn’t hurt to play it up for pleasure. 

“N-no Kook, I’m yours,” you grapple at his pants, pulling them down so he can get them off completely. 

“Right. You’re. Mine.” With every punctuated word is a light slap to your cheek, and you take it. His cock bounces right off of you, until you finally move your head to suckle at the engorged tip, “I’m keeping you forever, doll. Don’t you know that?” 

Throughout this whole process, you don’t move, other than the minute clawing at your knees. You’re so good to him. Jungkook pulls away and ignores the ache in his member for now, taking off your clothes for himself. It’s like unwrapping a gift, revealing every bit of skin reserved for his viewing. “So sexy,” he remarks once he’s got you bare, pulling you onto the couch. He’s still in his button down shirt, his date night shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. However, he lets your hands inch under the stiff fabric, feeling for his taut muscle. 

He guides your aching cunt to his cock, sinking you down. It’s a tight fit, and you both moan at the brush of contact. Despite not being prepped, you’re still slick, and it makes up for it. He doesn’t thrust up or anything, just guides his lips to yours with a threadbare brush of his finger. 

“Kook, d-do you want me to move?” you mumble against his cherry-flavored lip balm. 

“Good dolls don’t move until they’re told,” your eyes widen innocently at the statement, and you crumple against his mouth, at his next words, “cum like this.” 

“Awh shit, please no,” you tear up, burying your head between the crook of his neck, “I can’t wait.” 

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you into next week. You can’t do this one little favor for me?” he’s being so mean, and you hate him for it. Haven’t you earned it? “C’mon baby, I thought you wanted me?” 

It’s silent, save for the soft Italian restaurant music playing from whatever tutorial he’s hooked up to his television. It’s terribly cliche, like you’re in the porno version of a European romance movie. He thinks nothing of it, not when your juices are dripping on his thighs, your skin soft and pliant in his grip. Jungkook drums his fingers against your spine, seemingly uncaring that you’re stuffed deep into your womb. 

On the other hand, it’s the only thing you’re acutely aware of. His thick, warm cock is nestled between your folds, right where it should be. You clench once, twice, thankful that this isn’t some crazed wet dream. States of sleep and consciousness have blurred this week, you’re lucky that you made it all the way up to Jungkook’s apartment. 

You can’t cum like this. You need to bait him. You moan, the sound slow and rumbly against your throat as you weave your fingers through his dark tresses. Moving the strands aside to kiss his cold metal earrings you murmur, “I love this, Kookoo. I’ve wanted you all week, I was going crazy. I kept playing last week in my head over and over. I even put in my little vibrator, hoping you’d pull up the app.” 

Jungkook’s teeth clench, and his grip is borderline painful as it digs into your hips. 

“I haven’t been able to cum all week, and I want to do it all over you,” you husk, playing with the roots of his hair. 

You can feel yourself dripping, wetness lubricating you even further and probably staining his thighs and couch with your arousal. Every second that passes is killer, and the fluttering towards your pussy tighten further as Jungkook’s cock twitches in response. Your pussy continues its ministrations, butterfly-like flaps against his hot member that have you vibrating.

“Mm, oh, I’ll cum for you,” and surprisingly, you might be able to. All this dirty talking has gotten you riled up. Just a little bit more and—

Jungkook shoves you off his cock, forcing you to land on the couch. 

“No!” you cry, wiping your face. Your cheeks are ruddied, and you’re annoyed. The coolness of the autumn air has you feeling chilly, and you want to scream at Jungkook for disrupting your orgasm. You feel empty. 

You’re not annoyed for long however, as Jungkook flips you on your back and gives you what you’ve been craving. 

“You glide right in, don’t ya doll,” the friction is deliciously blazing, his hands pushing you further into the large couch as he takes you from behind. Hot, fast smacks against your ass come from the way his balls bounce back and forth as he pistons his cock in and out. “F-fuck, you’re so good to me. So good, I love having you like this. All pretty and dripping, you really know how to make a guy wait, huh?” 

“Mmph! N-no—hng, but I’m y-yours, Kook,” you garble out, and you’re practically eating the throw pillow you’re propped up on as he slams you further into the cushions, so hard you may fall off, “all yours, honey. N-no more waiting. I want you, want you so badly—ah fuck!” 

“It’s worth it, you’re worth it,” he says over and over, his thrusts becoming sporadic and losing their rhythm once he feels you clenching uncontrollably. He presses his two fingers to your sloppy bud, swirling around the juices eagerly. “C-cum, baby doll. You deserve it, yeah? Cum on this cock, let go.” 

You’re starting to see spots, black and white alike. Finally shying away from his cock you rest on your back, but Jungkook doesn’t stop his fingers from flying across your clit. One look at his face and you’re gone. Pretty brown eyes, overflowing with affection. The feeling is different, and it’s the acute pressure between your stomach and pussy that makes you notice what’s going on with your body. The pressure finally releases, your eyes fluttering shut as you rest your cheek on the cushions. You dissolve, a mess on the couch as white hot liquid ejects from your body, spraying Jungkook’s thighs and cushions. 

“Y-you just,” your lover’s mouth is parted open like a baby kitten, uncaring as to how the dark liquid stains his couch fabric. 

“Squirted?” you answer breathlessly, a melty smile on your lips, “y-yeah.” 

 It sets him off, a button left dormant until now. The thatches of hair that surround his cock are dripping with your mess, a cold reminder that he got you to this high. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his cock back into you, and you gasp at the overstimulation. You try not to focus on how your body is a bundle of lit nerves, only to help Jungkook reach his completion. 

“S-so perfect,” he warbles, pressing kisses to your jaw, chin, lips. Each thrust is deep, thick and heady with emotion. “Mm, I wanna cream this pussy sooo badly—mm, all mine, all wet and warm and so so sweet—” 

He cries out your name, biting into your shoulder as your walls fill further with his hot cream. Your thighs are shaking from sensory overload, and Jungkook has to hold you down and soothe you into a state of reality to cling on. 

Satiated, he nuzzles into your chest, feeling absolutely featherlight. 

“T-thank you,” you say gratefully, when at least three out of your five senses return to your body. Your hands dip down to clutch his cheek, pinching lightly at the warm skin.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jungkook exhales into your breasts, “d-didn’t even feed you my cum yet.” 

You scoff, pinching his cheek again. You’re aware of his softening cock between your folds, ready to seep the efforts of today’s coupling, but your stomach says otherwise. You crane your neck to make note of the kitchen island, staring curiously at the metal pasta roller and the little nests of carby goodness that decorate the cutting board. 

“Feed me pasta first, please. You have all night to feed me dessert.” 

Jungkook giggles into your stomach, he doesn’t mind feeding you in that order. 

bonus.

“So.” 

“So?” you have cream sauce on your lips, happily slurping on an angel hair. 

“You haven’t told me you liked me back yet,” Jungkook rests his palm in the swell of his cheek, content with watching you eat from where he’s standing on the counter. He leans his upper body across the marble table, muscles rippling against his white shirt. 

“Oh, I did!” you’re affronted, swinging your legs on the high chair, “I totally did last week!” 

“Yeah, well. Can you say it while I’m not inside you?” 

“Okay,” you blink, quirking him with a simple smile, “I like you.” 

“That was anticlimactic,” Jungkook jokes at the brevity of your confession, yet his heart betrays the charm he finds in the three words. 

You scoff, jabbing your fork in the little next of springy noodles. “What do you want to hear? I’ve wanted you since I’ve moved in? I think you’re really handsome when you pace the hallway doing work on your phone? I like the way you cook?” 

“Keep going,” Jungkook sing songs, walking over to hug you from behind.

The stool swings back and forth as he rocks the two of you, softly and slowly so you don’t throw up your dinner. He noses into your neck, inhaling your scent and committing it to your memory. 

“Mm, dessert first,” you insist, twirling around the stool so you can wrap your legs around his waist. “And then I can tell you exactly how much I like you,” your fingers play with the buttons of his shirt, walking the pads of your fingers across his chest. 

Jungkook grins, hands reaching to cup your bottom and bring you to his bedroom. Of course, he’s always willing to satisfy your insatiable appetite. 

[marauder-exe]

Prompt List #2

Welcome to my biggest prompt list ever

if you wanna request something from this list, just use the character and ‘ prompt 34 from prompt list #2′ thank u!

Theres like 200 so be wary

Angst

“I love you ! Is that what you wanted to hear ?”

“I love him/her, and I know that I shouldn’t.”

“Can you just shut your mouth ?”

“wHY DO YOU KEEP LYING TO ME ?”

“We both know that I should walk away, but I can’t.”

“Wait, he/she has a girlfriend/boyfriend ?"

“I lo—-” “No, please… Don’t say that. You love her/him, not me.”

"Could you just take this pain away ? It hurts, so much… Help me.”

“You’re safe here, I got you.”

“Don’t ask her out again, please… You’re killing me, every single time you ask that.”

“Look, he/she wants you, just make him/her happy.”

“If you go, I’ll know that you never loved me.”

“We never were just friends, and you know it.” “I know it, but you deserve someone better than me.”

“SHE WAS CRYING BECAUSE OF YOU!!!”

“You love me like I’m the person who actually deserves your love.” “But you are the only one who deserves it.”

“I know for a fact that you’re not “fine”.”

“You’re looking at me like.. you’re disgusted. What did I do? Just tell me what I did, please!”

“What happened between us?”

“Nothing has changed!” “Yes it has, and you know it.”

“Love isn’t supposed to hurt this badly.”

“You said you needed space. You were 5,000 miles away for a year, and you’re still unsure. I’m starting to think that an entire universe apart wouldn’t be enough space for you.”

“I remember when he/she/they used to look at me that way”

“I want you to list every lie you ever told me. Then I’ll forgive you.”

“I don’t hate you. I hate that after all of this, you’re still trying to lie to me”

“I can’t keep this secret for you anymore.”

“I’m sorry I’m not what you signed up for.”

“Why she/her/them? It could have been anybody, and you chose to betray me with her/him/them.”

“This will be the last time you lie to me.”

“You never loved me, did you?”

“You made me miserable and I still loved you.”

“Everytime something goes well, I momentarily forget how much I despise you.”

“We’re never going to have a happy ending, just remember that.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re not happy to see me like this.”

“Your mind must be a horrible place.”

“Hand me the gun and I’ll kill him myself.”

“And I thought you loved me."

" And I thought I loved you."

" Aren't you even going to cry?"

“I didn’t expect you to wait forever. I just hoped…”

“Did you always know that you were going to leave?”

“If you cry, I’ll stay, and if I stay that will just give you another reason to hate me.”

“I’m addicted and at this point I don’t think anything could make me stop.”

”If you wanna know, then ask.”

“You never asked because you knew I wouldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear.”

“We grew apart, and at this point I’m glad.”

“Find somebody else to kiss your ass.”

“When are you going to stop clawing for something that’s never going to happen?”

“What you’re doing is going to kill you one day.”

“It was easier to believe that the you I knew was dead than deal with the fact that I still have to see you every day.”

“What you’re doing is going to kill you one day.”

Fluff

51. “You’re hair is really soft after you wash it.”

52. “Ssh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.”

53. “You smell really nice.”

54. “Would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you.”

55. “I might have slept with your robe when you were gone.”

56. “If you steal the blankets, I am going to put my cold feet on you.”

57. “Here, let’s share the blanket.”

58. “You’re comfy.”

59.“You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

60.“But I want to hear you sing.”

61.“Don’t get up - I’ll do it.”

62.“Care to give me a back scratch?”

63.“I think I love you.”

64.“Your bed head is really cute.”

65.“How about a kiss?”

66.“You made this for me?”

67.Aw, you’re blushing.”

68. Uh oh, I know that look. What do you want?”

69. “Let me help you with that.”

70. “I don’t want to forget this moment.”

71.“Are you really flirting with me right now?”

72.“I like the way your hand fits in mine.”

73.“You have something in your hair, umm… Do you want me to get it out?”

74.“It’s nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today.”

75.“This movie is really scary, but you’re into it so I’m trying not to cover my face the whole time, but- WHAT IS THAT?”

76.“Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet.”

77.“Half the time I get too embarrassed to say anything”

78.“No, it’s fine.  I can wait until you’re done talking to them.”

79.“No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

80.“You’re a big piece of inspiration for this, honestly.”

81.“I’ve been trying to get ready for like an hour and a half, because I know you’re going to look so good and I need to try and match up.”

82.“I wanted to say “I love you” for the first time without stuttering, but that failed.”

83.“My friends get so annoyed by how much I talk about how sometimes.”

84.“No, mom, don’t tell him/her I said that about him/her!”

85.“I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

86.“ You are so beautiful — So fucking beautiful. “

87.“And just WHERE do you think you’re putting your hands?”

88.“Wow, you look even better in the daylight.”

89.“I don’t remember ever having this many hickeys. But I don’t mind.”

90.“We could order pizza and just stay like this all day.”

91.“It was always you.”

92.I love you in every possible way.”

93.“I didn’t mean to love you so much.”

94.“Don’t you hurt a single hair on his/her/their head.”

95.“Duck, you idiot!”

96.“Hey. Pal. I’ve got a wand and I’m not afraid to use it.”

97.“Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

98.“It’s not a double date. We’re just third and fourth wheeling.”

99.“Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

100.“I remember practicing how to ask you out in the mirror..”

Sarcasm

101.“Define normal.” 

102.“Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?” 

103.“Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.” 

104.“Don’t look for any redeeming qualities. I don’t have any.” 

105.“It’s amazing how fast the world can go from bad to total shit storm.”

106.“I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.” 

107.“And you wonder why you’re still single.”

108.“Remind me to kill you. Please.” 

109.“That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

110.“She’s crazy. And just when you think you’ve reached the bottom of her craziness, there’s a crazy underground garage.” 

111.“She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but I bet behind close doors she’s latex and whips.”

112.“If my day gets any worse, I’m asking hell if they’re having an exchange program.” 

113.“Sorry. I don’t speak skank.” 

114.“My middle finger salutes you.” 

115.“I don’t have enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel.” 

116.Somebody’s cranky.” “Somebody needs to shut up.” 

117.“Oh darling. Go buy a brain.” 

118.“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.” 

119.“All due respect, but that’s a bunch of crap.” 

120.“I am one of the few people in the world who can murder you and leave no forensic evidence behind.”

121.“Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.” 

122.“What did I tell you about calling her/him the devil?” “That it’s offensive to the devil?” 

123.“I heard that!” “You were supposed to!” 

124.“I need therapy after this.” 

125.“You didn’t get in trouble for lying. You got in trouble for lying badly.” 

126.“I turned out liking you a lot more that I originally planned.” 

127.“I think you’re weird.” “I think you’re boring.” 

128.“I’m afraid I’ve been thinking…” “A dangerous pastime.”

129.“Wow, there’s a big surprise. I think I’m going to have a heart attack and die from surprise.” 

130.“I’m gonna hit you so hard, it’ll make you ancestors dizzy.” 

131.“Sarcasm is the body’s natural reaction to stupidity.” 

132.“Well, excuse me, psychic wonder!” 

133.“Don’t look in her eyes, she might steal your soul.” 

134.“She’s hot, but she’s evil.” 

135.“Do I regret it? Yes. Would I do it again? Probably.” 

136.“I already know that I’m going to hell. At this point it’s really go big or go home.” 

137.“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage.” 

138.“So stick that in your juice box and suck it.” 

139.“Never take life seriously. No one ever comes out alive anyway.” 

140.“Sometimes I question my sanity. Occasionally it replies.”

141.“Why should we date?” “Because we are attracted to each other.” “I am attracted to pie, but I do not feel the need to date pie.” 

142.“Neither one us is drunk enough for this conversation.” 

143.“You’re questioning my methods.” “I’m not questioning it, I’m saying it’s stupid.” 

144.“Wow, somebody needs a Happy Meal.” 

145.“I didn’t do it!” “Then why are you laughing?” “Because whoever did it is a freaking genius.” 

146.“Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.” 

147.“You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.

148.“Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.” 

149.“Rule number one: don’t bother sucking up. I already hate you, that’s not going to change.” 

150.“You make no sense to me.” “Welcome to my life.” 

Drama

151.“Can you stop thinking about yourself for once?”

152.“Can you stop thinking about yourself for once?” 

153.“Don’t think I forgot about what you did last time.”

154.“I know you lied to me.”

155.“I’m not even sorry.”

156.“You backstabber!” 157.“I never want to see you again.” 158.“You never mattered to me.”

159.“I knew this was a bad idea.”

160.“Rot in hell.”

161.“It was supposed to be a secret!”

162.“No one loves me.” 163.“He/she/they is/are so petty…” 164.“You made me cry.” 165.“I don’t know who you are anymore.” 166.“How DARE you?!” 167.“I know you’re not talking to me…” 168.“I SAW you with him/her/them!”

169.“Just leave me alone.”

170.“What did you do?!” 171.“I told everyone that I didn’t want to talk but I’m actually dying for attention.”

172. “Just admit that was extra…”

173.“I forgive, but I don’t forget.” 174.“Did you see what he/she/they was/were wearing?” 175.“So what if I had sex with your ex?” 176.“There’s something I have to tell you…” 177.“I can’t do this anymore.” 178.“You weren’t there for me when I needed you the most.” 179.“I never loved you.” 180.“It’s too late.”

181.“Quit ignoring me.”

182. “Don’t you get it? It’s because I love you!”

183.“I love you. I’m sorry.”

184.“I don’t want to be friends.”

185.“Can we please pretend I never said that?”

186.“Friendzoned again.”

187.“You should’ve loved me when you had the chance.”

188.“Fuck you for toying with my emotions like that.”

189.“I was there for you when no one else was!”

190.“Alright – I can tell a ‘no’ when I hear it.”

191.“I’m sorry I acted so creepy.”

192.“Fuck. It’s like what they say – nice guys finish last…”

193.“I’m tired of keeping this secret. Even if you don’t love me back.”

194. “I knew that’d be your answer. That’s why I never told you before.”

195.“When I said I loved you, I meant it.”

196.“Is there any part of you, deep down, that might love me back?”

197.“You were the one that left all those notes for me?”

198.“You’re in a relationship with another person – you know this can’t end well.”

199.“We agreed this was just physical!”

200.“I love you. I know you don’t love me, so don’t say it back.”

Ahhh im sorry that was so long, but if you read all the way to here, your a real one.

Again i write for all Hp characters! Feel free to use these prompts as ur own

[onebourbon-oneshot-onetear]

Happier- Wayne and Y/N Oneshot

(Not my Gif- Credit to Owner)

Synopsis: Wayne finally says those three little words

Warnings: Cheating, Angst, ooc Wayne (I never feel like I properly write him lol)

Authors Notes: could be read as a stand alone, but if you squint really hard, it could be a sequel to my other story '5 Times Wayne Fell in Love with You'. Like, if you squint realllllly hard.

The toughest man in Letterkenny was not always one of many words. More often than not, he would sit in silence unless he was really worked up about something. Then it was hard to get him to shut up.

Except when it came to you. When it came to talking to you, the man could go on all day long. It didn’t matter what you were talking about. You could say that a blade of grass was interesting and he would agree with you and tell you everything he knows about grass. Which surprisingly enough, was quite a lot.

For as long as you had known Wayne, he had always been like this. When you first moved to Letterkenny from the States, him and Katy were both there to make you feel welcome. When you needed help with chorin’ Wayne was the first one there to help you. When uptown degens wouldn’t stop bothering you, Wayne had gathered all of the boys and started one of the biggest brawls Letterkenny had ever seen. And you appreciated him for it.

You returned the favors too. You always helped Wayne with the chorin’ whenever he needed it. More often than not you would be the one to pick him up off a barstool on the nights he got really drunk, take him home, and make sure he ate breakfast the next morning. You would patch him up after his fights. You both took care of each other.

And yet.

He was still on and off with Rosie. Even after he had knocked out her favorite cousin, they had gotten back together. And it irked you. You had known how you felt for a while. Every time you saw Wayne all you wanted to do was smother the butterflies that erupted in your chest. You knew that facing your feelings head on would only lead you down a slippery slope of heartbreak and awkwardness. So you just turned your back on your feelings and ignored them. No matter how much it hurt whenever you saw Rosie and Wayne together, or whenever he mentioned her.

Katy understood how you felt. She liked Rosie well enough, but she didn’t like how she was going back and forth between liking and not liking Wayne. It wasn’t fair to either of them. And if they didn’t make a decision soon you were afraid of what Katy would do, judging by her past record with Wayne’s ex’s. Granted, you had helped her, especially with the Angie debacle, but that was another situation entirely.

“My brother has been in love with you ever since he first met you. He’ll come around eventually,” She would say, but you could never put any stock into her words. If he loved you, then why was he with her? Why had he never said anything before? It hurt too much to think about so more often than not you pushed it all to the back of your mind.

You had lost track of which side of the back and forth they were at, but judging by how they were sitting close to each other at MoDean’s, you figured they were in a ‘together’ stage. So you sat next to Daryl at the bar, and drank your Puppers, with a miserable look on your face.

Nobody noticed, except for Katy, who sent you looks of pity from across the bar, but you ignored her. It wasn't long until you had enough, paid your tab, and got up to leave.

“Leaving already, Miss/Mr. Y/n?” Dan asked you, a little surprised since you hadn’t been there that long, less than an hour. The group looked at you in surprise as you stood up.

“Um, yeah,” you said, twisting a ring on your finger nervously. You didn’t really like all of the attention you were getting, especially under Wayne’s gaze. “I’m just tired. I’m going to go home and read,” you said, not meeting anyone’s eyes. They would see the half truth in your eyes. You were tired, but you weren’t going home to read. You would probably drink at home, away from the two people that were making it hard for you to even pretend to be happy.

“Are you okay to walk home?” Daryl asked, his way of offering to take you home.

“I’m fine,” you said, sending them a smile and a small wave. “I’ll see you later,” and you left without another word, missing the concerned look that Wayne gave you and the look of disappointment that Katy gave Wayne.

It was colder than you thought as you made your way home. You pulled your sweater around you and quickened your pace. Keeping your head down to avoid the harsh wind beating against your face, you weren’t paying attention to the figure that had appeared in your path, bumping into them.

A small grunt left your as you were bounced back, heading for the ground until two arms caught yours and held you up. “I’m so sorry,” you started before looking up into the eyes of the man you had run into, immediately stumbling over your words. He had deep brown eyes which contrasted with light brown hair. His chiseled cheekbones were pushed up in a grin as he smiled down at you.

“No, I’m sorry,” He said, his voice deep enough to send a small shiver down your spine. Your only reply was a bashful grin. He set you up on your feet, making sure you were okay. “My name is Adam.”

And that’s how you hit it off. Adam walked you home, both of you making small talk the entire way. Once he had gotten to your front door you gave him your cell phone number and you two had been inseparable since. First friends, then more than friends.

While you liked being together with Adam, he didn’t exactly fit in well with the group. He wasn’t from Letterkenny, he was from the city, meaning he wasn’t quite as, shall you say, down to Earth as everyone else. He got along well enough with everyone...except Wayne.

From the first time you had brought Adam around to meet the group, Wayne had been especially hostile towards him. He wasn't even subtle with his insults anymore. From all the years you had known him, you knew that Wayne was just itching to scrap with him. Thankfully Katy sat him down and told him to knock it off.

Wayne loved and respected Katy, and even you a small amount, so his teasing stopped, and him and Adam started resembling a friendship. At least, very slightly. Once that happened, you were genuinely happy.

Months had passed and everything in Letterkenny had settled down. You and Adam were properly dating, even talking about moving in together, Katy was back with Riley and Jonesy, and you still weren't quite sure what was going on with Wayne. And you honestly didn't care. There was no point in bringing up feelings that you had buried deep down.

You still got the butterflies in your chest, but instead of it being a swarm of them, it was only a few. Still there, but enough that you could ignore. You didn’t think you could be happier.

You were coming home from MoDean’s one night when you saw a car in your driveway. Right away you were a little concerned, because it wasn’t your car, and it wasn’t Adam’s. You immediately thought something was wrong and you rushed inside, fumbling with your keys, almost dropping your phone before swinging the door open and finding…

Adam on top of another girl. Naked. They hadn’t even noticed that you had walked in the door. Until you slammed the door shut behind you. Both of them jumped and immediately tried to cover themselves up, Adam already apologizing profusely.

“Y/n, I didn't mean it, it doesn’t mean anything!” He yelled, ushering the other girl out the front door and slamming it shut.

You walked past him, grabbing your backpack and stuffing some clothes into it, along with your other daily toiletries. You weren’t thinking about anything else except getting out of the house. You could barely hear Adam behind you, mumbling his excuses but you only blocked him out.

You finished your packing and pushed past him and back out the front door, hopped in your truck, and left without another thought. A few minutes later you arrived at Wayne and Katy’s house, the only place you could think about going.

You knocked on the door and Katy answered. And seeing her face, you immediately burst into tears and hugged her tight. She immediately wrapped her arms around you and brought you into the house. Through your tears you could see that Wayne, Dan, and Dary were sitting at the kitchen table, looking concerned.

Katy led you over to the couch and sat down with you. “Y/n, what happened?”

You sniffed and wiped your eyes, clearing your throat so you could speak. “I came home, and Adam was with another girl,” You said in between your sniffling. As soon as the words left your mouth you heard all of the kitchen chairs slide out and three sets of footsteps walk into the living room.

“Together, together?” Wayne asked. You barely glanced up at him before bursting into another wave of sobs and nodded.

You laid down on the couch and curled up, letting the tears run down your cheeks. Katy sat with you, stroking your hair and telling you that everything would be okay. At some point you must have fallen asleep, because you woke up with a blanket around you, and the kitchen light on. Everything else in the house was dark.

You stood up and stretched, your eyes still feeling swollen from all of the tears and your shoulders popping. You were extremely thirsty and walked into the kitchen to get water, and found Wayne sitting at the table, a Gus n’ Bru bottle sitting in front of him. He looked at you as you entered the kitchen and stood up. It was silent for a minute as you both stared at each other. You broke the silence first, mumbling a hello.

“Y/n, how’re you now?” Wayne asked.

You smiled at his usual greeting and took a cup off of the counter. “Good, and you?”

“Not so bad,” he said, walking over to the kitchen and getting the pitcher of water out of the fridge. As he reached past you, you noted his freshly bruised knuckles. Your chest started hurting again as you remembered the events of the day, why you were so upset.

You blinked back the leftover tears and looked at your now filled glass, Wayne putting the pitcher away. “Did you guys go over there?” You asked.

Wayne stood still before looking back at you over his shoulder, “Yes.”

“Did you scrap?”

Wayne had set the pitcher in the fridge, closed the door, and turned back to look at you, “Yes.”

You nodded and took a sip of water. “Thanks,” you whispered.

Wayne gave you a sharp nod and you just stood there thrown back into another bout of silence. You sipped your water, and Wayne looked around the kitchen, eventually giving a slight cough.

Not wanting to stay in the silence but not wanting to be awkward, you said the first thing that came into your mind. “How’s Rosie?”

Wayne looked nothing short of perplexed as he looked at you while he slowly answered, “I don’t know. We haven’t spoken for months now.”

Now it was your turn to look perplexed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had ended things.”

“We ended things a few months ago.”

Great. Now you were back in the awkward silence. You had finished your water and didn’t want to hold the glass anymore, moving to put it in the sink, which Wayne was leaning against. You set the cup down in the basin, accidentally brushing arms with Wayne. “Sorry,” you muttered reaching your hand back.

Before you could, Wayne had gently grabbed your arm, holding it in the air. For the toughest man in Letterkenny, he had a surprisingly soft grip. “I owe you an apology,” He said.

You were confused, thinking back to what he could possibly be apologizing for. He saw the look on your face, and continued. “I didn’t handle you dating well, and I took it out on you. And for that, I’m sorry.”

You thought back to all of the times that Wayne had insulted Adam. Even if he never said anything bad about you, ever since you had started dating Adam you noticed Wayne didn’t hang out with you, not as much as he used to. You shook your head, knowing that the apology wasn’t necessary. “Turns out you were right. I shouldn’t have been with him. Who knows how long he had been stepping out on me. I should have listened to you.”

By now, Wayne had slid his hand from the crook of your elbow to just above your wrist. “You deserve the world, Y/n.”

You didn’t know what to say except you noticed the butterflies in your chest had come back full force, staring at Wayne’s blue eyes in the low light of the kitchen. “Wayne,” you mumbled but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

“You don’t need to say anything. You’re going through a rough time. I just needed to tell you…” he trailed off, suddenly not able to meet your eyes.

‘What do I have to lose?’ you thought as you reached up on your toes and laid a gentle kiss on Waynes cheek. As soon as you pulled away, he snapped his head towards you so fast you thought he was going to headbut you. You were only an inch away from each other, staring into each others eyes before Wayne whispered ‘Fuck it’ under his breath and leaned in, properly kissing you.

For a man who did manual labor his lips were as soft as you imagined them to be. He moved his hand to cup your face and wrapped his other arm around your hip, as your arms snaked around his waist, holding him as close to you as possible.

You didn’t even know how long you both had kissed each other before air was needed, and Wayne broke off the kiss. You were still in each other's space breathing heavily as you stared at each other. Wayne ran his calloused thumb across your cheek, studying your whole face. At first when he spoke, you weren’t even sure you heard it correctly, but as your brain caught up with the sound you couldn’t fight the grin that planted itself on your face.

He whispered those three little words. “I love you.”

You kissed him again, him eagerly returning the favor, doing what you had wanted to do for so long. You didn’t even care about the events of the last 12 hours, let alone the last few months. Wayne had admitted he loved you, and that was enough. “I love you, too,” You mumbled in between your kiss. The hurt that you had been holding onto was gone, replaced by pure happiness.

[maddieinwonder]

The Eighth

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None, this is a fluff-only zone!

Word Count: 2.3k

Plot: Reader has been in the BAU for one year and a lot has changed, especially her relationship with a certain genius. (Part 1 here!)

Author's Note: Seriously, I wasn't expecting my first two fics to blow up like that. Just, thank you to everyone who read them ♡♡♡

As for this one... I had to write a Part 2, basically as an excuse for me to write good things about everybody in the BAU and go wild with the backstories hahaha I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

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

Under the dim lighting of the BAU jet, your pen paused on the small book beneath it, causing a small blotch of ink to seep through its pages. The words usually flowed out of you without inhibition, but today was different, and frankly, you were feeling a little overwhelmed.

You didn't think the team would remember this, but today marked exactly one year since you joined the BAU. As if the universe were smiling down on you, the week also turned out to be a great one - or at least, as good as it could get around here.

The team had just closed a challenging case with minimal casualties, everyone had been ordered to have a long weekend off, and the person you most wanted to spend it with was dozing off beside you without a care in the world. Of course, he didn’t know about your feelings... yet.

Closing your journal, you gave up on writing as your eyes wandered restlessly toward your sleeping teammates.

Your eyes crinkled into a smile when your gaze landed on Hotch. This was the first time you’d seen him actually asleep on the jet, and in your opinion, he deserved whatever rest he could get. Since you joined the team, you had seen the man endure countless late nights in the office. Something you had quickly attributed to the missing wedding ring on his finger.

Yet, he remained a stalwart to the team. He constantly checked in with everybody, shielded the team from messy politics, and even managed to crack the occasional joke. Of course, he was still stoic most of the time, and you weren’t exactly sure if he was capable of blinking, but now you knew the warmth and care he possessed too.

Then there was Rossi, who had defied all your initial expectations. You had thought a celebrity like him to be gracious, maybe a little egoistic, but he was straight forward and meticulous to a fault. Still, it seemed he couldn't escape his nature as a performer, as he shone the brightest in the interrogation room.

The day you first witnessed him in action, your jaw had dropped to the floor, and he never stopped bringing it up in jest. He always joked that he didn't know whether you or the unsub was more shocked, but after that day, he also took the time to mentor you in the craft. You liked to think he was proud of how quickly you were able to put it into practice.

Your eyes wandered to Emily, sleeping soundly in the next seat. With Penelope and JJ’s busy schedules, she had taken on the role of showing you the ropes, and you had become fast friends. Turns out, the both of you were eerily similar: competitive, quick thinkers who never backed down from a challenge.

Unfortunately this meant you were never paired together on cases, but you did have an ongoing chess tournament slash drinking game. The chess was your idea, the drinking was Emily’s, and you were currently winning, much to your obvious pride and the rest of the team's amusement.

The person you actually got paired with the most was Derek; effectively fulfilling the fantasies of many women you knew. But as it turned out, the two of you made a damn good team. His calculated disposition combined with your breadth of knowledge - only rivalled by the good doctor - made you an extremely effective duo, and Hotch picked up on it immediately.

You being younger than him by a few years, Derek made it a point to check in with you often, and in turn, allowing you to glimpse at his pensive, empathetic, and insightful sides. He had become a big brother to you, and you like a sister. A bond that proved to be a strong one, across the many cases you tackled together.

You smiled to yourself, eyes landing on Penelope and JJ, dozing off together under a bright pink, knitted blanket whose ownership was in no doubt. It was rare that the tech analyst came along on cases, but she was always a welcomed presence for everybody involved.

Amidst the sea of gruesome cases sent to the BAU, you had come to look forward to Penny's witty banter, either over the phone or in person. The image of her colourful outfits and her outrageously decorated office were enough to make you believe in a light at the end of any tunnel.

It reminded you of your first case, an extraordinarily challenging one that the team managed to unravel in the nick of time. When you arrived back at the BAU, Penelope was the one to drag you out to celebrate. Little did you know, the rest of the team had also gathered at the bar with party poppers and birthday cake. When you found out that Penny had planned everything, you knew you had earned a friend for life.

As you smiled at the memory, JJ shuffled in her sleep and your attention was drawn to her sleeping figure. You didn’t know how she could look so perfect even when she was asleep. But then again, you’d come to realise that there was very little she couldn’t do.

You had already been friends with the communications liaison, but working with her in the BAU was a completely different beast. Of all the chaotic personalities in the BAU, only JJ had a hold over every single one. She was able to apply the same to the local police and media, and still meet the victim's families with the utmost grace and empathy.

During her brief window of absence when Henry was born, things just weren't the same. You liked Jordan, and you knew she always gave her best, but there was an unmistakable sigh of relief when JJ was back. And although she never asked for it, you and Penelope did everything you could to give her and Will a break from their newborn, including regular movie nights in with baby Henry.

Last but not least, the one that you couldn't forget even if you tried, Dr. Spencer Reid. You had joined the BAU because of him, you realised now. But what began as professional interest, had quickly developed into a full blown crush on your co-worker.

You realised this fact on an absolutely unremarkable day, except for the fact that your heart skipped a beat when Spencer walked into the office that morning. He wasn't wearing anything out of the ordinary, his usual combination of sweater vest and shirt, but when he smiled at you, your face flushed visibly and you wanted to melt into your chair in embarrassment.

If the genius had noticed it, he didn't let it show. But Derek most certainly did. Every chance he got that day, he teased you about your newfound crush on "pretty boy", and soon the news made it to everyone's ears. Emily not in the least, as she used the knowledge to win several chess games, much to your annoyance.

And still, Spencer remained oblivious. Despite how often you sat starry eyed listening to him explain a completely random fact. Despite how many weekends you spent together bonding over your shared interests in Star Trek and Doctor Who. Despite the fact that the seat next to him on the plane was basically reserved for you. You didn't think he knew, because he never made a move.

That's why you decided last week. The next time the team had a long weekend off, you would ask Spencer out on a date. You just didn't think it would happen so soon.

Midway through your thought, Spencer groaned in the seat next to you. His hands lifted to move his hair away from his face, and you resisted the urge to do it for him.

"Are we there yet?" He asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

You felt your heartbeat quicken at his voice, gravelly and soft, not fully back to reality just yet.

"No, not yet," you answered back in a whisper. "It's only 3AM. We have about two hours to go."

"Why aren't you asleep?" He asked. His head leaned back onto the headrest, but this time, his face turned towards yours. The two of you were far too close to each other for this to be work appropriate.

"Just thinking." You tapped the cover of your book with your pen in explanation, trying to look anywhere but at him. Spencer hummed in acknowledgement, the sound driving you wild. Then he did something you could have never expected.

"Hey," he began, pulling your gaze to meet his hazel eyes, "happy one year at the BAU." His lips formed a small smile, sleepy but genuine.

"You remembered?" You couldn't fight the wide smile that made its way onto your face, nor the glee that spilled out of your voice.

"Of course. Eidetic memory, remember?" He joked, gesturing at his head. Maybe it was the lack of sleep talking, but you felt like you were on the verge of tears.

"Thank you. Really."

"Hey, hey, hey, don't cry." Spencer said, suddenly sitting upright. He leaned forward as if to touch your cheek, but his fingers lingered in the air in between you awkwardly.

You brought your own fingers to your face, realising that you were, in fact, crying. A small laugh escaped your lips at the absurdity of it all.

"No, no, I'm alright, Spencer. Just overwhelmed, I suppose." You tried explaining, gently wiping the tears from your face.

"Why?" He asked, his voice laced with concern.

“I didn’t expect anyone to remember it, that’s all.” You said, feeling a little ashamed now, but your words seemed to light a fire in the doctor’s eyes.

“Well, whoever forgot it must be stupid because you’ve made a difference in the lives of every single person on this jet.” He said in an uncharacteristic huff.

This was your chance, you realised.

“Hey, Spencer,” you said after a pause, biting your lip nervously, “what difference did I make in your life?”

Spencer looked as if he had been caught, his eyes instantly darted to the seat behind you, his fingers twitching. You tightened your grip on your pen, willing yourself not to collapse from the anticipation.

“Of course, I-I mean, many things can’t be quantified due to its subjective nature, but you did change my life."

"Like?" You pressed on.

"You gave me something to look forward to everyday." He said, his eyes lifting to meet yours. You felt your heart soar a hundred stories above the ground.

"Really?" You were in disbelief, your voice barely a whisper.

"Really. You're... you're intelligent, beautiful, and you open my mind to new things every day. I feel like you understand me in ways the rest can't, and you’re the person I want to tell everything to. There’s nobody else but you.” He blurted out in a single breath, as if he'd lose the words if he waited any longer.

Your eyes threatened to spill tears again, but you blinked them back, preparing to say what you wanted to say to him long ago.

"Spencer... I like you. Like, romantically like you." You whispered, your eyes barely able to meet his. His eyes were wide open, his eyes glancing briefly at your lips.

And in a moment of pure bravery, as he explained later, he placed his hand over yours and squeezed. "Me too. I like you, romantically."

Long after that, he would tell you that he'd never seen you smile so widely before, and he instantly knew that he wanted to be the reason you smiled that way all the time. But in the moment, he just laced his fingers with yours.

You squeezed his hand back. Feeling calmed by his warm touch, you leaned closer to him. You still had one question on your mind.

"Did you know that I liked you?"

"I figured it out eventually. Last month." He said sheepishly. "But I've had feelings for you since a month after you joined the team." His cheeks turned a light pink at the confession.

"You know what? Me too." You blushed, leaning against his shoulder.

“Another thing we have in common now,” he said, resting his head on yours.

You weren’t willing to let him go now that you had him, and luckily, it seemed like he had the same idea, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.

The two of you fell into slumber easily, not even realising it when the jet had landed back in Virginia.

It didn't take long for the rest of the team to realise the interesting sight in front of them, but not even Penelope's high-pitched squeal managed to wake you up.

In the end, it was JJ who decided to end your unknowing humiliation by shaking the two of you gently. You and Spencer jolted awake, immediately taking in the various smirks and grins from your team in front of you.

"Ok, that's enough guys." Hotch announced. You noticed the small smile on his face before he turned around to leave the jet.

The team - mostly Emily and Penelope - looked as if they wanted to enjoy the sight for a little longer, but at Hotch's word, decided they would leave the teasing till later.

"That's not exactly how I imagined telling the team," Spencer said, when the two of you were finally alone. He ran his fingers through his hair in an action of mild distress, but you noticed the smile that was still glued to his face.

You leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek, enjoying the blush it left behind. "Well, that means less time with them, and more time with you," you teased.

Spencer picked up his bag and offered his hand to you. "I'm counting on it," he said, smiling widely.

You took his hand, your gaze trailing up his wrinkled shirt to his messy brown hair, finally landing on his earnest eyes. Of all the times in the past year you got to be the BAU's Eighth. This moment had got to be the best.

[notnctu]

when the snow falls | j.jh

jung jaehyun x reader genre - angst first, fluff later details - childhood best friends!au, ghost!au, platonic relationship, genderneutral!reader, ft. boyfriend johnny warnings - grieving/mourning, mentions of death, lots of crying, explicit language (swearing) word count - 8.3k inspiration - A Christmas Carol synopsis - Jaehyun visits you every holiday season since his death to bring you out of your self isolation and hatred for the one season you both once loved.

a/n - this is for my first collab ever: a taste of winter collab hosted by @dearyongs​​​ & @pastelsicheng​​​ ! again, thank you for letting me participate and i hope this fic brings more warmth for everyone during the winter!! happy holidays everyone & i hope you can check out the rest of the fics in the collab as i will be, they’re written by such amazing writers! :)))

An iridescent frost covers the tall windows of the apartment and a bright white sky greets you this morning. The fallen sheets expose your bare shoulders to the bitter crisp cold air and goosebumps rise to remind you to wear a fucking sweater for once. However, the cold isn’t what bothers you this horrid day as you’re leaping out of bed to glance out at the world. It’s the first thing that you lay eyes on: it covers the streets, it’s falling from the blanket of grey sky, it’s others’ joy when it’s your trauma. What Mother Nature has brought upon this winter season, as she always does this time of the year, is snow. 

The first sign of snowfall marks the first day of your self isolation period until the holidays pass. It marks the anniversary of your best friend’s death and an agonizingly long winter, but in spite of that, it also means the appearance of a rather special guest. A guest that is only visible to you and though resembles much of your passed friend, does not share the same memories as you do. 

“The snow is just so comforting, isn’t it?” Though you live alone, a sudden voice erupts from behind you and has you turning rather quickly to face the truth of this season. Your greatest treasure, yet haunting demise. “Hello, y/n. How has your year been?” Jaehyun stands with a lean at your door frame, his arms crossed at his chest and hair full of fluff. 

“Hello, Jaehyun’s spirit. I happen to hate the snow, if you have forgotten.” Your hip presses against the cold glass and you’re no longer afraid of being half naked in front of what this form of imagination possesses itself to be. 

“Remind me why again.” Jaehyun casually sits on your unmade bed, looking as about your age now. There is a brief silence as you examine how he’s grown with you, you’d imagine this is how he’d look if he was still alive and well.

It would be his third year in college, same as you, possibly studying engineering due to his past fascination with the mechanics of roller coasters. With such a strong jawline and a definite lean built, girls would be running all over him. Not to mention, his dimples remain one of his charms.

Kicking off the icy window, you walk carefully and slowly up to Jaehyun. A hand reaches to caress his cheek, but it goes right through him and leaves your hand to hang in mid-air. This happens every time you see him again, wondering if you can get one last touch of his dewy complexion, and you simply can’t. Despite his ability to touch you, there is no possibility for your senses to travel through to the other side of the supernatural dimension. 

Jaehyun gently rests your hand back to your side and repeats his request, “remind me again why you hate the snow.”

“It’s how you died.” A small croak gets caught in the back of your throat and tears well up to blur your vision. “So when the snow falls, it brings me back to the dreadful memory of me losing you, of you leaving me.” 

“I died from snow? That is so lame.” Jaehyun grumbles and rolls his eyes. 

You chuckle, but the tears roll down your cheeks as if they know no happiness. “You died from a car accident in the snow. Your tires slid, you couldn’t brake … and so, you crashed. Full trauma to the head, an instant death.” 

“Where was I going?” He wasn’t this curious last winter, and so you’re unaware if it’s your mind playing sick tricks on you or if his unrest spirit is this forgetful. You wish it was the latter. 

Choking on your tears, the droplets hit the hardwood floors below you. An overwhelming feeling of melancholy overtakes your chest and you’re suffocating underneath an unknown pressure. Your throat is drier than your mother’s gingerbread cookies, but you swallow the frigid air around you. 

You’re so choked up by your sobbing that it’s too difficult to speak. Any words you say feel like thin ice, ready to crack at the lightest touch. “O-On the way to … my house. You were coming over to tell me a secret.”

“And I never got to tell you.” 

“No, Jaehyun. I’ll never know what you wanted to tell me that day.” 

when the snow falls. 

There has never been a time before Jaehyun and all that you knew, all the memories that fill your brain, every growing pain you could possibly share, was with him and all until it wasn’t. Had there been a time after Jaehyun, you would not have expected it to come as soon as it did.

For the months following his death, you were in denial of his missing presence because every. single. thing. reminded you of him. Jaehyun remained in his assigned seat in school, although it was clearly empty. He lived through others’ mourning stories, where they spoke of fond memories that they shared and things he liked. The worst of them all, you still texted him every day in hopes to see the tiny three dots pop up that he was typing. And the warped reality in your head, the first stage of grief flooding every possible corner, was that he has always just been slow at replying back.

Then, his funeral rolled around and his parents asked you to share one happy memory of him. There were so many, how could you possibly have chosen just one? And so you didn’t. The moment the frame of the church entered your view, your legs stuck to the ground and refused to enter. There was going to be a point when you entered the building filled with crying people and a gripping, horrid smell of death and you wouldn’t be able to forget it. That scary thought, not only frightened you, but angered you. 

The large attendance of people walked past you as teary eyes blinked up at the dark wooden frame of the door, but every one of them had never visited him for more than once when he was alive. His older cousins that had forgotten about him when they flew away for college, his acquaintances from piano lessons who never bothered to remember his full name, his old friends from primary school that he had lost connection with after graduation, they were all here.

And you can’t help, but fester a fueling frustration in the pit of your stomach and as it grew into your chest in the matter of seconds, you wondered the single thought that picked up your feet to run home: where were they when he was alive? 

After a year and the appearance of Jaehyun’s ghost became less of a shock during winter, you were stuck in an odd and uneasy place of what if’s. Talking to him once a year was never enough, texting his old number was never enough. It was just never enough.

Missing him grew into a dark sense of yearning, longing, bargaining. Long nights of twisting and tossing in your bed, many thoughts and endless possibilities ran through your unhealthy thoughts. The description and police report of his accident played like a reel in darkest contemplations. 

The first year of college had to be the hardest to go through without him and thus, aiding in your regrets of not cherishing him enough when he was around. A rabbit hole of universe paths drove you wild, wishing and hoping that you could turn back time and stop him from coming over in the middle of a blizzard. And the one lasting thought still haunts you to your present: if only you hadn’t encouraged him that night, he wouldn’t have died. 

The saddest part has barely been acknowledged, even by yourself. That this one tragedy tainted the one holiday you two loved the most --- Christmas. Every year since his passing, you locked yourself in your room for two weeks before the holiday and waited through it all. Truthfully, there was nothing in the universe that was going to allow you to enjoy the holiday when it wasn’t with him. Even his ghost, who very randomly popped up on a December day and cluelessly never brings much comfort as the live him did during this season.

Jolly holiday music lost their joyous sound and became awfully low tempo. The bright red and green signature colors of Christmas became dull and rather grey; the long strings of colorful lights that hang from houses and around large trees were absolutely drained of their color. The warmth of the fireplace went cold. The cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies no longer entertained and lost their spark.

The Christmas themed decorations that covered the windows of shops, the city, your own house, became an overwhelming sore sight to look at. The love from your loved ones… you couldn’t feel anything remotely close to love anymore, just meaningless affection. The one gift that the Earth blessed your region with, snow, became the one petrifying thing that it had to offer. And your favoritism for the holiday, the so-called ‘Christmas Spirit’, slowly died out, along with Jaehyun. 

Now that it’s been three years since his passing, you’re here spending your third lonely holiday season inside your apartment discussing your yearly recap with your ghostly best friend. 

“That ridiculous final exam lowered my grade and I walked out of that class retaining none of the information. When will I ever need to know about pirates in the 1800’s?” The chocolate wrapper crinkles in your fist as you finish your overly passionate recollection of the most useless class you could have taken this whole year.

Jaehyun sits by your side, facing you as he hugs his knees close to his chest. A small grin dots the dimple on his left cheek when you peer over at the huddled boy and the sad reminiscent glisten in your eye does not go unnoticed. “You used to love pirates. Dressed up like one for Halloween and went up to every house yelling,” Jaehyun clears his throat and perks up, ready to perform.

A balled fist in the air, paired with a look of utter gusto and passion, Jaehyun speaks in an attempt to horribly reenact your once embarrassing pirate impression. “Argh! You scoundrel, give me all the treasures in your possession… preferably chocolate sweets.” He holds his stomach as he bursts into a fit of his baritone laughter. His wide mouth grows into such a big, open smile that his eyelashes dance on his glowing cheeks. 

“For a ghost, you sure look like someone who’s very much alive.” Naturally, you’d swat lightly at his knee or arm whenever he would joke around. However, the pain of your hand passing right through him breaks this habit and you’re left scoffing at the way Jaehyun is consumed with laughter.

“You know, for someone who is alive… you sure look a bit … lifeless. When was the last time you were happy, y/n?” Jaehyun finally settles down and gently nudges at your elbow. 

His question hits you like a wall of bricks. Unexpected and completely straightforward, but that’s just always been the way he is. “This past weekend when I turned in my last assignment for the semester.” 

“No. The last time you were genuinely happy, not relieved. You mentioned a boyfriend, right?” 

Rolling your eyes, you grow a bit silent and annoyed at his comment. “Listen, hopeless romantic. Not every relationship is perfect sunrays and gushy unconditional love.” Perhaps, your gaze drops down to your hands and the wrinkled wrapper between your fingers has worn out from your fidgeting. 

Johnny Suh. If you could move mountains for this man, you would. It all started due to an accidental happenstance of you abruptly walking into your campus’ coffee shop to seek shelter from the rain and him, the attractive barista behind the counter, chasing after you in a stained apron and an immensely strong aroma of coffee beans. Jaehyun practically swooned over hearing how you two met, hearts in his pupils and a dreamy grin resting fondly as he attentively listened. 

Jaehyun has always wanted a relationship, though he did have many admirers in high school, he never had the opportunity to experience one true love and to play out every sappy romantic thing rom-coms taught him. Hearing about your love life is the closest thing he can get to it, unfortunate for him, but fortunate that his best friend still has some romance in them.

Nevertheless, it’s only been a few months together. Though Johnny has seen intimate parts of you, he’s never experienced a winter with you and frankly, he won’t ever experience one with you if you keep this up. 

“Johnny doesn’t make you happy, then why are you with him?” Jaehyun knows Johnny makes you feel something that is hard for you to put into words. He also knows the type of person you are, pushing your buttons to get you to defend something you love. Boldly. Loudly. Strongly. He knows how to get you to spit out words of truth, even when they’re difficult.

“My partner is the literal definition of happiness, okay?” The defensiveness drives your assertiveness further. “The last time I was happy was when…” your eyes are frantically examining the floor for any source of focus as a highlight reel of this whole year flashes through your mind.

“... On my birthday, he planned me a picnic. Bought me roses, the whole grand scheme of romance. I started to cry, out of happiness… it was the first time in a while that the reason behind my tears was something good.” There’s somewhat of an epiphany when you finish your sentence. Your voice gets lost in your train of thought as the blissful scene plays out. 

“Why were you crying?” Jaehyun snatches the distracting wrapper from your fingers, it being unrecognizable from the wear and tear. It causes you to meet Jaehyun’s round eyes: empty, but not sad. They’re lost, yet filled with purpose.

Jaehyun has always been able to open up the darkest parts of your heart. “Because it reminded me of the time when you and I walked up that steep hill over on Fifth Street… and we forgot the picnic blanket. But it didn’t matter because after the strenuous journey, all we wanted was to sit down and enjoy some fucking sandwiches, along with some hot chocolate your mom packed us.” 

“y/n, you cried over the memory of sandwiches and exercise? That’s so---”

“Before you insult me by calling me lame,” you bring your finger to stop him mid-way and narrow your eyes, “I was so happy to be able to share our same experience with someone else. Even though you’re gone, I can still have these happy moments with other people.” 

Then, Jaehyun gathers both of your hands to hold and brings them to his soft lips. Everything about him feels cold, like a harsh chill that bites at your skin. In spite of it all, his delicate kiss on your knuckles somehow feel warm and slightly comforting. Jaehyun peers up with kind eyes, “you’re almost there. I will do everything I can to get you there.” 

Blinking at him with confusion, your expression asks the questions for you. When he sets your hands in his lap, a soft pat on the back of your hand reassures you. “Can we bake Christmas cookies?” 

Rolling your eyes, you tear your hands away from him. He leaves you with unspoken words and an oddly comforting feeling, but it’s not enough to dissipate your deeply rooted dislike for this particular holiday. “You ask this every year.” Getting up, you walk towards your bedroom to get away from feeling too vulnerable.

Jaehyun watches your back intently as you’re stumbling over your feet. He whispers to himself, “and I think this year is going to be the last year I’ll ask for it.” And a hopeful smile appears joyously as he anticipates the storm before reaching still waters. 

The sound of the doorbell awakens you and Jaehyun is nowhere to be seen. He comes and goes as he wishes, however, he’d usually accompany you during the mornings. You’re particularly sluggish, finding it difficult to adjust to the blinding white sky outside as snow continues to drift upon the city. 

“Good morning, gumdrop.” Your boyfriend is rather chirpy today. Johnny engulfs your fragile body in his long arms and you’re lost in his scent of peppermint bark. 

“This was unexpected.” His shirt muffles your tiny voice and Johnny is setting down bags of groceries on your kitchen countertop. 

“I texted you last night that I was coming over to do some grocery shopping for you. Did you sleep early?” Your very helpful boyfriend starts unloading all the parcels of fresh produce and your favorite snacks. However, there is a slight tinge of annoyance and possibly it’s due to the fact you weren’t expecting to see anyone during your isolation. Johnny couldn’t have known though.

A deep sigh escapes your lips and you walk over to stop his movements. A hand holds his arm and the other intertwines with his own, but you stand under him with the sweetest smile you could wear during the holiday season. “How is it that your mom invited me to your family holiday party, but tells me that you’re not going to be there?” 

Your smile automatically falls from your lips and a hand retracts from his warmth. It’s the sudden truth that you must face, the confession of your sadness that you’ll eventually need to tell your partner. Wondering how he’s going to take the news, your mom probably gave him a brief breakdown about how you’ve been this way for the past few years now. 

Nonetheless, Johnny has always been bold with his statements and though you’ve adjusted to his abruptness, this one is hard to give a quick answer back to. So as you’re racking how to present your dark narrative, Johnny sets you down on the couch with the utmost gentleness. You don’t even feel the cushion underneath you when the million different answers streamline their way into your brain.

Johnny notices your frantic eyes and unfocused gaze, growing a bit concerned at how cold your skin feels at his touch. Taking off his sweatshirt, he carefully slips it over your shaking figure. When the softness of the polyester cotton blend brushes upon your bare arms, you’re snapped back facing a worried expression.

And you say the one thing on your mind, the only thing you can think of in your scattered brain. “Jaehyun died during this time of year, so it just makes me very emotionally unstable to… participate in any festive events. I’d rather be alone, the whole holiday season.” 

Johnny nods, but his face remains with his eyebrows together and lips pressed into a tight line. He’s well aware of who Jaehyun was and means to you. Though you don’t talk much about him, your eyes light up with a bright twinkle whenever you do. It’s like the world spins ‘round and everything feels restored. Johnny knows enough about your good friend to deduct how hard it must be for you during the winters. 

“Can I help you in any way?” Johnny peers over at you with a small smile, and you wish there is something in your decaying heart to keep it up forever. 

“I hate to say it, but please just leave me alone for the winter.” Flopping on his lap, you’re burying your face in your hands to cower away from seeing your sunshine hurt. There are no more sugar coated kind words for you to pick and choose from.

While Johnny can understand how difficult it must be for you, he still holds onto a sliver of hope that you’ll come around. “Come on, don’t be such a Grinch. No one should be alone for Christmas.” 

Groaning, you sit up and roll your eyes at the familiar references. “Listen, Cindy Lou Who. Don’t call me that.”

“It’s still a cute nickname, you don’t think?” Johnny snickers lightly, but your expression turns rather grim and serious. A faint overcast of melancholy washes over your expression as you’re staring off into your memories again.

In a faint voice, your voice is barely above a whisper, “that used to be one of Jaehyun’s favorite movies.” Your arms drop from your puffed up chest, but Johnny catches your hand and kisses your fingertips.

“What was yours?” Johnny keeps the atmosphere as light and playful while he still can. 

“The Nightmare Before Christmas.” Ironically fitting and that’s one of the sole reasons you don’t watch holiday movies anymore. There have been too many parallels with your life and the wrenched holiday. As twisted as the joke may seem, you’ve lived your own nightmare before Christmas, except you never got the happy ending to it all. It’s like a nightmare that continues and you can’t escape it. 

Having said, Johnny pulls you up to stand and draws you into the biggest hug. “I can’t leave you alone, even if I tried my very best. I still get butterflies every time you smile at me, so you think I wouldn’t be addicted to that feeling?” 

“Johnny…” This man is in love with you until the ends of this Earth, until the horizon stretches so far that it’s unimaginable to see where it stops. 

“I’ll respect your wishes as much as I can, but know that it’s not the best form of healing.” The final word causes a chill to run down your spine. It implies that you’re still hurting, although he’s not wrong, it’s rather disheartening to hear someone else speak it aloud. “I’ll come around less.” 

“If I’m grumpy, then you’ll know why. And don’t try to shove the whole Christmas spirit act on me, I don’t want to hear a single thing about it! I can’t spend a Christmas without Jaehyun.” Johnny squeezes your shoulders at your bold declaration.

“You can’t or you won’t?” A painful tick at your heart leaves you speechless at his question. 

For as long as you could remember, every Christmas was spent with Jaehyun. Picking out a tree for both of your families and getting lost together between the evergreens brought laughter and excitement. Baking cookies and drawing the ugliest faces in tacky colorful frosting always happened a few days before the holiday. Drinking hot chocolate by his family’s fireplace and watching Christmas movies were one of your favorite activities. Christmas Eve was always so special, where you and Jaehyun made it tradition to open your gifts from each other right when the clock struck midnight. 

Then everything simply stopped. And when you tried to participate in those same activities, selfishness and guilt preoccupied your heart. What do any of those things mean without Jaehyun? Jaehyun was the reason you loved Christmas as much as you did. Then, his death became the reason you hated it as much as you do.

“I think that’s enough for today.” Johnny knows he’s hit a nerve, he can see it in your glossy eyes and subtle drop in the corners of your mouth. There is no protest from the taller man when he accepts his sweatshirt without a complaint. The bitter cold air bites at your bare shoulders again and you’re practically existing in its lack of warmth. Gathering the rest of his belongings, you two bid a kiss goodbye and shut the door.

It’s almost a relief that he’s gone and the tear runs down your cheek when your back hits the door. Suddenly, Jaehyun appears across the living room leaning on the door frame to your bedroom. “He seems like a nice guy.” 

“He is.” There is a hang at the end of your sentence and Jaehyun walks toward you. A few sniffs fill the empty apartment, but you’re rubbing away any sign of sadness from your face.

“But?” 

“But, he’s so optimistic about… everything. He lives by the sun and every waking day, he just lives it to the fullest. There’s nothing in the world for this man to possibly understand how sad I feel.” It’s the heaviness in your voice that has your heart sinking to the pit of your stomach. 

Jaehyun’s freezing hands graze your chin and as he lets go, his stare doesn’t leave yours. “Learn from him.” Your best friend’s ghastly voice reminds you that he’s not real. He’s a ghost. He’s very much gone and not for a split second, should you be wanting to cave into his embrace or else, you’ll hit the floor hard. Nevertheless, you’re entirely vulnerable and the next few words that leave Jaehyun’s mouth causes your throat to close up.

“Keep him close. y/n, he is the sun.” It’s a moment you thought you’d never witness, your best friend complimenting your significant partner. Moreover, it hurts to think about how great of friends Jaehyun and Johnny could have been. “To be very honest, you need some heat this winter.”

“Then, what were you?” It’s the curiosity that nips at your tongue as it leaves no space for a pause. The thumping of your heart being so loud in the dead silence, but you know Jaehyun doesn’t have a heart to beat recklessly as yours. 

Jaehyun smirks and chuckles fondly, despite how desperate and serious you may have sounded. “I was a pain in the ass.”

Scoffing, you break the immensely intense eye contact. “You still are. This whole haunting thing is very creepy.” Gesturing his entire being in front of you, he just looks so alive and breathing. Before Jaehyun, you always thought ghosts were floating entities with a white transparency. But your best friend stands before you, well aged and all together. 

It still tosses you into shambles as to why Jaehyun exists, but you’ve given up on figuring out his purpose. He could be a form of your own imagination for all you care, perhaps you’ve grown so sad that you started to seek things. 

Companionship from the one person you wish was still alive?

Like before, you’ve always spent Christmas with Jaehyun… alive or in ghost form.

It’s another one of those long days that seem to never end. The bright white sky seems unchanging, stark with a dusty and imminent endless overcast of snow. It’s blinding and you’re regretting the moment you overlooked the curtain blinds at the department store.  

Your phone has already been lost somewhere underneath your bed and there isn’t a single desire to reach for it. Missed calls pile up, voicemails clutter your inbox, texts flood your messages, and your social media notifications fill your screen. Despite everyone’s effort to contact you, there is no sense of joyous cordial nature to even glance at them.

Jaehyun has been appearing more frequently and staying for longer periods of time. The conversations bring an empty comfort, most of the times you feel the need to remind yourself that you’re not actually talking to someone, are you?

“What’s that sad look in your eyes?” He startles you when you’re off looking vacantly out the window. Your mind has been completely distracted lately by meaningless thoughts and the sweetest reels of Jaehyun that have turned blue.

The more you wrap yourself in your white sheets, the less you can feel any source of warmth. And perhaps you haven’t realized that you no longer felt any heat the past few days, that you’re at a freezing point and it’s made you numb.

“Not sure what you mean.” Your voice remains dull and monotone, lifeless almost. Jaehyun takes a seat against the window and for the first time, you can see right through him.

“It’s not your fault, y/n.” Is he a mind reader too? The thought that always circles your mind when Christmas draws near is not only that Jaehyun is gone forever, but how you could have prevented it all. The guilt eats you up and no matter how hard you’re searching for acceptance, it slips away from you before you have a chance.

When you don’t answer, Jaehyun heads over to your bed and he’s alarmed at how cold your hands are. “It was never your fault.” Your best friend pulls you into a hug, but it can barely be felt. What kind of hug can’t be felt?

“I never said it was.”

“No, but you thought about it.” The chilly draft causes you to shiver and it’s hard for you to concentrate on anything else besides the night of his death.

“I should have stopped you from coming over.” Although you’ve confessed this many times to him before, it never gets easier to say. Jaehyun sighs and ultimately frowns at your tears slipping from your eyes again. Like the snow that drifts from the heavens, your tears know no end to their downfall. It’s become too natural for them to appear. The closer it gets to Christmas, the harder it is to stop from crying.

“It’s hard for me to speak about it since we don’t remember much of the same moments---”

“Jaehyun! I remember that night as clear as it was just yesterday that it happened.” There’s no reason to yell, but a strong sense of pain erupts from your chest.

He’s so calm at your sudden outburst, turning his head to face you with a deadpan expression. “You weren’t there, y/n. You were home, safe and sound as you should have been. I’m more than grateful that you’re the one alive.”

“I’m not!” But when the confession leaves your lips, you’re shaking and fearful. The entire room is stiff and silent. You couldn’t even believe what you had just said, wondering if that is anything close to truth. You look up at Jaehyun, who blinks at you with furrowed eyebrows and wide eyes. “I mean,” you clear your throat in the midst of the tense atmosphere. “I could have saved you.”

“You’re not a hero and I didn’t need saving when I was already gone.” He taps his temples lightly, “full trauma to the head. It was just my time to go.”

“The secret. I wanted to know so bad that I didn’t stop you from coming in a snowstorm!” Jaehyun pats your head in an attempt to soothe your aching heart.

“And I wanted to tell you just as bad that I didn’t care about the snowstorm. y/n, stop blaming yourself for something that happened to me. The universe is much more complex than that, give it some credit.”

“You’re even philosophical as a ghost? Give me a fucking break.” Groaning, you pull the sheets over your head to somehow run away from the conversation.

Jaehyun lies down next to you, smiling cheekily to himself and glancing over at the lump that you had become underneath the blankets. “Do you remember the time I taught you how to ride a bike?”

“I thought it was your dad who taught me.” You grumble, tossing away the sheets to glance over at him. It always puzzled you how Jaehyun never remembered the same memories as you do, and even if you did, one of you remembered it differently.

“He was probably there as supervision. I was the one who helped you take off your training wheels and strap on your impressively thick knee pads.” You’re lying on your elbows now, fists pressing into your cheeks and a fond attentive gaze upon Jaehyun’s resting figure. He’s staring up at the ceiling that protects you two above, yet can cave in at any moment.

Dimples dip into his round supple cheeks as his toothy smile comes into view, reliving the happy memory. “You rang your little bell so many times that day.”

“Because I was scared!” You protest, muttering something incoherent. “Didn’t we go downhill when I said I wasn’t ready?”

“We went downhill because you said you were ready.” His hair ruffles in your sheets when he turns to face you, and he just takes your breath away. It’s the stars in his dark eyes that sweep you off your feet, like the gleaming star on top of a tree. The color that oozes from his smile, like Christmas lights that line a rooftop, make it hard not to stare. Jaehyun looks just like Christmas, the most wonderful thing of the year. In someway, he resembled an angel or the soft sheet of snow ready to fall right through.

You’re encompassed by overwhelming effervescent emotions from listening and watching Jaehyun glow and gleam. “Then, what?”

Jaehyun’s low chuckle illuminates the room, dazzling the boring grey interior. “Little ol’ you, hurt yourself real bad that day, scrapes and wounds you thought you’d never heal from. You didn’t talk to me for a week, but you ended up learning how to ride a bike.”

“Is that right?”

Jaehyun rests on his side now, only an elbow supporting his body and he’s leaning in close to your face, you’re almost too sure you could feel a breath on your lips. “No matter how painful it gets, I’m always here to push you through it all.”

When your heart beats sporadically at his proximity, you didn’t realize that you are holding in a breath, being quite afraid that if you let it out, it would simply blow him away for the night. And you’re not ready for him to leave you again.

Christmas Eve;

It had to be a miracle that anyone got a hold of you this week when Johnny comes practically banging at your door. Though you are so close to ignoring his loud thumping, the sound of your boyfriend’s soft sniffles alarms you greatly.

“y/n, holy shit!” It’s deja vu when you’re in his arms again, a horribly warped version of it when the smell of peppermint bark tickles your nostrils disgustingly. “I thought something happened to you. You weren’t answering my calls or texts.”

“My one wish for Christmas was to be left alone and I meant it.” The attitude in your voice becomes jarringly evident and Johnny blinks back at you with a new found annoyance as well.

“Can you at least think of the other people around you?” He holds your shoulders lightly, but staring into his eyes seems to be harder to do lately. Jaehyun appears on the couch, lying flat on his stomach and a hand resting underneath his chin. This is no longer a private conversation, but you learned long ago that no one else can see him.

“Who are you talking about? My family? Because they’ve all given up on me.” This is the first time Johnny has seen you act so cold and distant, yet entirely vulnerable. You’re stripped of everything that you usually hide in --- oversized clothes, happy smiles, and a beaming warmth.

All Johnny ever wants is for you to be loved, not only by him, but by the world. And interestingly enough, he loved you for your vulnerability and your rawness. This is until he realizes, in this moment, that it stems from your trauma of losing Jaehyun.

“What about me, y/n? I’m still here.” Johnny is frantic, and by all means, hurt by your aloofness. Brushing off his hands from your body, you’re taking several steps away from him.

“And why are you still here when I kept telling you to leave me alone? Whenever I was upset, Jaehyun always gave me space! Haven’t ever thought about how that is something I need?” You’re saying nonsensical statements that are fueled by anger and annoyance.

He’s pushing your limits and for once, you’re pushing him away. But this isn’t new to you, in fact, you’ve pushed so many people away just like this and that’s why they’ve decided to just let you be.

Johnny is taken aback, “you know, I feel like I’m competing with Jaehyun and I’ve never even met him.”

You scoff and throw your arms in the air, visibly in disbelief at what your boyfriend is saying to you. May you lose your temper, you’re unsure about the future of this relationship. Yet, something in your cruel and painful heart no longer cared, snapping your wits and patience at your beloved.

“What are you saying?” You’re pacing back and forth, fuming with an inexplicable infuriation. Jaehyun catches your eye, and for a brief moment, you’re holding eye contact with him instead. “Jaehyun is dead,” facing Johnny now, you say words that jumble in your chest, regardless of their true meanings, “and even if he was alive, there would be no competition.”

“Because you were always going to choose him over everyone else in your life, is that right? Exactly like how you do now.” Johnny’s words sting like daggers at your skin, worse than the layer of frost that bites at you for the past two weeks.

“Please, don’t attack me for hurting.” With that, your voice breaks and cracks all over. Your tears hit the ground without you feeling them run down your cheeks.

Johnny is quick to wipe them away, not minding that his hands will now be wet from your salty droplets. He instantly regrets it all, the unwarranted questions, the fighting, the barging in unexpectedly. It pains him more to see you like this.

“I apologize. I’m sorry that I’m not saying the kindest words to you when you need to hear them the most.” Your partner is frowning, a true rare sight to see. “But, you’re still grieving and there is going to have to be a time that you move on.”

It’s one of those tip of the iceberg moments or when the ball finally hits the ground and a rush of cathartic enthusiasm washes over you. However, you’re not happy. You’re not even remotely close to happiness. You’re fucking sad, you’re aching with a pain so deeply rooted that it isolates you, that it rips apart anything that used to bring you joy.

And this causes you to scream your lungs out, sobs that choke you up. “I can’t! You don’t understand, no one understands! I just fucking can’t. He was my best friend and that night… he was going to tell me something.” Jaehyun can’t bear to hear your piercing wails, as he’s disappeared completely from the setting. When you’re panicked and searching for him, you only see Johnny staring back at you with a very concerned expression.

“And I will never know what he wanted to tell me.” Your tone grows soft and rather delicate, like a sad realization at the possibility that the secret died with Jaehyun that night.

“Some things are better left unknown. Do you really think you’ll feel better knowing?”

“Listen to him, y/n.” Jaehyun randomly appears next to Johnny’s stature. He stands a few inches shorter than him, but the sight of them together has you blinking in awe.

You’re darting between the two of them, “I don’t know what will make me feel better.”

“Come, tonight. Your whole family wants to see you for the one holiday that brings people together.” But when Johnny steps forward, you’re taking a step back.

“Please, just go.” With an assertive point to the door, your head does not lift up to watch your boyfriend leave. Despite every person you’ve done this to, Johnny’s hurts the most. His flame dies out tonight, providing no sense of security or heat. And with a toss of his arms of exasperation, he shuts your front door and leaves without a goodbye, without wishing you a merry Christmas.

Jaehyun calls your name, but you’re rushing to your bedroom and slamming the door shut. “Don’t you dare travel through the wall.”

Your apartment has grown so dark due to the shorten winter days. It’s pitch black all around you and the sky is no longer a deafening white. It’s the first time you notice the dark blue scattered clouds and the intricate snowflakes that drift carefully down to the streets. And, you’re all alone in the quietness. You truly are isolated every Christmas.

“y/n, let’s talk.” Jaehyun is beyond fed up with your behavior, that has to be the last straw. This is the first year since his death that he’s seen the evident spark in your eye, the hope that is hiding behind your depression. He sees it in the way Johnny looks at you, like you’re the greatest present he could receive in life. In your proclamation, as hard as it was to witness, is a spirit that wishes to be freed. There was a chance this year. There still is one.

“Jaehyun, you left me! You left all alone, and no matter how hard I try to stop thinking about you, it never works. In the end, no one is here for me like how you were.” Hands in your hair, you’re losing yourself at a rapid rate. It hurts to keep your eyes open, tears sting as they well up around the rims.

“Find a part of me in the people around you.” The door to your bedroom swings open and Jaehyun takes note of you by the window again. You want to leave, you want to be out there and he knows, before you can actually realize it yourself. You’re turning to face him and in the dark, he looks solid. He looks so real and whole.

“How do I do that?” It’s a genuine question that you’ve pondered before, but never feeling like you had the strength to do so. You’re always dwelling on your past with Jaehyun, indulging in the sacred memories only you two shared.

“What are things that you associate me with?” He is found leaning against your door frame again, hands are shoved into the pockets of his faded jeans.

You say the first thing on your mind, “snow.” When the words hit the air, your ceiling light flickers briefly. Jaehyun doesn’t flinch, however, still focused on your crying figure. Snow, the first sign of snowfall is when he appears for the winter.

“What else?” He encourages.

“Familiarity.” The light flashes again, for a mere second longer this time before it resumes darkness. Familiarity, for he grew up by your side for as long as you could remember.

There is an odd feeling that enters the room and you’re fearful of the unknown. But, Jaehyun’s cadence doesn’t falter, he’s not distracted by the random spurts of light. And if anything, it all could be his doing. “Keep going.”

“Comfort.” Flicker. “Warmth. Love. Excitement.” With each word, the light builds stronger and stronger. You’re speaking memories into existence now, “making snow angels until it got dark, laughing until our stomachs hurt, watching movies until the clock struck midnight, dancing until our legs gave out!”

Streams run down your face and you’re yelling until your throat feels raw, but you don’t wish to stop as the light glows brighter and brighter with each spoken word.

As you listen to every listed attribute and memory, you recognize a central theme in all of them and one thing that Jaehyun embodies, the one thing he’s always been associated with.

“Christmas.” A shaky breath exhales and a loud spark pierces your ears. The light illuminates intensely all around you, lighting up the darkest corners of your room and blinding you more than the sky has been lately.

“Jaehyun?” Closing your eyes, you can see the brightness through your eyelids and you’re beyond confused as to what is happening. When you mindlessly reach for his hand, you actually feel it and your heart is soaring due to strange unquestionable physics.

Jaehyun intertwines your hand in his own and caresses your face gently. For once, he doesn’t feel cold. He’s blazing hot, melting away the long days of isolation. “Open your eyes, y/n.”

What lies before you is an incredible, marvelous sight. Snow dusts the roof of your family’s house as green, red, yellow bulbs light the frame of it. Your parents really went all out; round snowmen sit perfectly together on your lawn. A decorative wreath hangs at the front door and a distinct chuckle catches your attention.

From the window that looks into your kitchen, your mother rolls a sheet of dough on the counter as clouds of flour erupt around her. Your father is preoccupied at the stove, with the silliest gimmicks for decorating the feast they’re about to hold. Silver tinsel line the dinner table with a festive table cloth draped upon it. The remarkable tree shines in the center of the living room, a glimmering star on top. 

“I know we probably won’t see y/n again this Christmas…” The sound of your mother’s voice rings a bell in your yearning heart and Jaehyun is gazing at you with a wondrous look in his eyes. The grip on his hand is tight, your breath enters the night in puffs of smoke, and regardless of this all being real or imaginary, you’re so immersed in this reality that he knows you’re anticipating what your family has to say.

“... but something about this year really makes me miss them.” Your mother puts the rolling pin off to the side and rests her hand on the kitchen counter, trying to hold back any form of her own tears from falling.

“May Jaehyun watch over them tonight, our little angel doesn’t deserve to be alone.”

Your dad walks over to embrace your mother in a long hug, kissing the top of her head gently. “Merry Christmas, y/n.” Your father speaks into the air, without the knowledge of you outside, he’s thinking of you.

Something in your heart shatters, but it’s entirely different from the pain you’ve felt over the years following Jaehyun’s death. It’s a warm, bubbly feeling that spreads across your chest and you’re covering your mouth out of pure shock at the sight of your parents.

Your parents, who you’ve neglected every holiday season, still think of you. You recognize the ingredients that scatter the table, they make your favorite dish every year in hopes you’ll come join them. 

Jaehyun whispers, “y/n, know that I’m always going to be here. I may physically be gone, but I live in your heart and the joyous memories we’ve shared together. I live through the many people who love you now, through Christmas. This spirit is also very much alive in the other people around you.”

When you peel your eyes from the scene of your parents, the vision suddenly disappears and you’re facing Jaehyun right back in your cold, empty, dark apartment. But you wish the moment lasted a little longer. For the first time in a long time, you wish to be with your loved ones. You wish to celebrate Christmas with the people who still care about you, the ones that are still alive and well.

“What if I’m not ready?”

“This signifies my final push down the hill. You’re all strapped up in your knee pads, y/n. You’re never truly going to be ready, but that shouldn’t stop you from trying.” Jaehyun pats your head lovingly and mimics the motions of securing a helmet on your head.

You’re letting go of his hand, running around quickly in search for the appropriate outerwear for the snow. It’s like a switch went off in your heart and a cathartic feeling settles in the pit of your stomach.

Every Christmas since his passing, you thought it was best to be alone. You thought it was selfish to live your favorite holiday season without your best friend, that you lost the spirit of Christmas.

However, this entire time… Jaehyun’s ghost has been a reminder that the Christmas spirit has always been alive. It’s not about the enthusiastic festive events or the cheerful themed activities or the distinct colorful decorations, it’s about the appreciation and love you have for the people who have made your year so special. You’ve associated the holiday so much with your best friend, that you’ve lost sight of it in your family, your current friends, your own boyfriend.

When you’re rushing out the door, you stop in your tracks and peer back at Jaehyun leaning against your door frame, just as he appeared a few weeks ago. He has the warmest, brightest smile on his face, “y/n, I think I finally remember the secret I wanted to tell you.” You’re afraid of the answer and the outside world, but your hand doesn’t slip from the door handle. Could it really be? The long anticipated secret that has been gnawing at your conscience since his death?

Nevertheless, he’s giggling and holding his stomach slightly from the immense amount of joyous laughter. “I wanted to tell you that I... finally learned how to shave.”  

At first, you’re stunned at the simplicity of the beheld secret. All this time, you thought it had been something so meaningful, something so mind blowing, that needing to know practically destroyed your mental state. Then, a wholehearted and genuine laugh erupts from inside of you and you’re lighting up the darkest parts of yourself. Jaehyun looks at you fondly, like a beauty that he hasn’t seen in awhile. 

“That’s fucking it? You came out in the middle of a blizzard to tell me you learned how to shave? How lame.”

Jaehyun chuckles, “when did I ever need an extremely valid reason to see you?” The laughter falls short at his confession and in the midst of all this enthusiasm, you bid him the softest smile. His purpose has been fulfilled, as the best version of you he’s always known and loved stands before him at last. 

“I guess... you’re right. What’s going to happen to you now?”

“I’ll always be here for Christmas, even when you’re old and grey surrounded by the warmth of your loved ones in front of a large, extravagant Christmas tree. When the snow falls, I’ll be here.” Jaehyun’s dimple smile is the lasting image you see, the one you’ve always hoped to remember him by.  

“Merry Christmas, Jung Jaehyun… I--”

“Love you too, y/n. Merry Christmas.” He ushers you out the door with a small kiss on your knuckles.

That is the last time you ever see him again. Now, when the snow falls, it marks the anniversary of your long awaited healing, the journey to acceptance, and the beloved memory of your best friend. May you never lose the spirit of Christmas and the warmth from your loved ones.

[papergirllife]

Yuta x reader x Winwin smut.

warnings : threesome, slight mxm, breeding kink (wolf knotting mentioned), unprotected sex.

author’s note : i changed this to abo au, i hope you don’t mind, anon.

The air feels too cold as you fumbled underneath your many layers of blankets, cold sweat dripping down your forehead as you curled up in a ball, the aching in between your legs starting to burn from negligence. Being in heat is one of the worst things ever for an omega, especially your alpha being gone for his day job as one of the secret heads of the company, in secret because the world can’t know their faces as werewolves are immortal, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have to manage the company, even with 23 people in the pack, the young ones usually manage the pack members, opting out of work.

You live in their big mansion that they’ve been living at since the 1960s, and soon after, you met Yuta in the 90s, officially leaving your pack for Yuta. Yuta has been nothing but good to you after your marriage, other than the fact he’s one of the prominent players in the business, being one of the oldest in the pack. You earned a lot of respect because of this, but at times you wish you were married to one of the younger ones, the ones that could relief their mates during their heat without any job restrictions.

As you tossed and turned in your bed, your nose suddenly picked up a scent coming from the main entrance, since your bedroom overlooked it levels above. The scent was definitely of another wolf being in heat. You scrambled downstairs once you slipped into one of Yuta’s sweater, not wanting to leave a wolf in heat unattended, especially if it’s one of the younger mates. so you were very surprised to see Winwin, one of the male omegas of the pack, staggering to the couch in the large entrance hall, his work clothes all rumpled.

“Are you okay, Winwin?”

Winwin smelt your scent before he heard you, which made him feel even more sick, like being in the car with Yuta wasn’t torture enough. That’s when said man walks in, his scent naturally appealing to you, making your abdomen curl in discomfort.

“I nearly forgot both of you had heats around the same time,” Yuta said as he saunters over to the two of you, head cocked to a side with his tongue stuck to his cheek, taking in the beautiful sight.

You could feel Yuta’s eyes on both you and Winwin, before Yuta had met you, he had fooled around with Winwin, as both of them didn’t have mates at that time, but stopped after Yuta met you, even though Winwin hadn’t met his mate. Yuta had came clean to you about this even before the marriage, not wanting to keep any secrets from you, and you are a mature and open minded woman, which was what Yuta saw in you at a time of a narrow minded society.

Yet seeing the two of you sprawled across the floor so beautifully, Yuta could feel his greediness from his deepest darkest thoughts. You could feel it too, you were his mate for so many years, you just don’t know how much he wants.

You called out Yuta’s name, your breathless voice immediately ringing in his ears. Yuta carried you in his arms, settling you on the couch, you pulled him closer by his nape, dropping your voice to a mere whisper.

“You can have Winwin if you want, I don’t mind.” Yuta’s eyes widened slightly from your blatant suggestion, but came to a realisation when he felt your scent becoming stronger from the sudden rush of arousal in between your legs, a smirk on his lips as he registers what you secretly want.

“You just want another man’s cock in you, don’t you? You dirty slut.”

“They do say mates have an inclination to what their partners want, I’m just fulfilling your desires.”

“You really don’t mind?” Yuta asks as he scans your face one last time before he makes the mistake of hurting your feelings.

“No, it’s not like Winwin is another woman, as long as I’m the only one in here,” you said as you lifted up a finger and pointed at his heart, the thumping obvious with your wolf senses.

“Okay.”

Yuta got up from the couch, carrying you on his back, he then makes his way to Winwin, swooping him into his arms, a hand secured around you, and the other on Winwin.

“Yuta, what?” Winwin asked before a gasp of surprise from the long forgotten feeling of being carried by Yuta.

“Shh, it’s alright. Just like old times isn’t it? My little pup.”

What Yuta said sent tingles down both you and Winwin’s spine, you’ve never thought he’d get back into it as quickly, since it’s been more than a decade since they were last intimate with each other, but you didn’t mind, in fact, you enjoyed the fleeting looks Winwin gave you as your legs traced up his, enjoying every reaction from the man, as Yuta carefully carried the two of you back up your shared bedroom with Yuta.

Yuta placed the two of you on the bed, taking a seat on your armchair right after, his hard on evident in his tight slacks, yet a look of boredom on his face.

“Touch her, I had a long day at work and I want a show.”

Winwin could feel his inner wolf telling him to make a move, to relieve him of his pain, but the human side of him hesitated, you were Yuta’s mate after all, he could just sit out on this and opt to jerk himself off on his cold lonely bed, but the way you spread your legs open for him with those desperate eyes made something inside him snap.

Winwin lunged for you, immediately capturing your lips in his, as his hands make their way up your sweater, his fingers tracing the underside of your breasts, his actions were much more softer than Yuta’s, but the teasing pace made your mind spin in the same frantic way. You kissed him back with much fervor, but easily submitting to him once he started dominating the kiss, your body easing into his touch. You had first struck Winwin as a sub, since he practically melted when Yuta called him pup, but now, as your body leans up for his touch, you can feel the dominating aura he possess, albeit nothing as strong as Yuta’s.

You could feel yourself feeling better when Winwin slipped off your panties, the flimsy clothing drenched in your juices. Winwin flung it aside before entering a finger inside you, feeling your walls slick with arousal only made the boner in his paints strain harder against his slacks, eyes shut in concentration to open you up before he ruins you.

You felt your toes curl as Winwin slipped a second finger in, curling them up to the roof of your walls, registering that he had successfully located your sweet spot from the way you whimpered his name, understanding why Yuta was always so riled up whenever you acted up and whispered naughty things into his ear. Winwin slipped in a third finger, increasing the speed of his fingers as he takes one of your breasts in his mouth, the other occupied by his other hand, rolling the nub in between the pad of his fingers as his mouth swirls your nipple before lightly biting on it, knowing that any woman of Yuta’s must love a certain degree of roughness in bed.

When the coil in your abdomen starts tightening, Winwin halts all movement, leaning back to admire how fucked out you look, storing this euphoric scene in his memory, just in case this is the last time he’s ever going to have you. During this break, Yuta tosses a condom from the drawer onto the bed.

“Continue,” he said, before moving back onto the armchair, head leant back to its relaxed position, yet his eyes were as sharp as ever, scanning every inch of you. Taking his bottom lip in between his teeth when he starts watching Winwin undress and roll the condom on.

Your eyes that were once on Yuta quickly shot back to Winwin when he flipped you over and leant down to your ear, your heart rate increasing as you nervously await his next move.

“Ass up, face down, don’t make me say that twice.”

You quickly adjusted into the position he asked of you, giving the two men a perfect view of your slicked pussy and your arousal that trickled all the way down to your knee, you’re only this wet when you’re in heat, embarrassed at how much slick your body produced, burying your face into the pillow. Yuta could sense a change in your emotions, and walked over to you, taking a seat near your face.

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby, Winwin and I both love how you’re dripping, don’t you Winwin?”

“Of course, I bet she tastes good too,” Winwin said before leaning down to lap up the juices that had flowed down your thigh, leaving light marks in his wake, but Yuta didn’t stop him. When Winwin had his fill of your sweetness, he spread open your cheeks and bottomed out inside of you in one go, throwing his head back at the way your walls engulfed him tightly.

Winwin started off with light shallow thrusts, letting you feel his girth before picking up the pace, leaving his tip in before slamming back his whole length into you, a scream ripped from your throat as you fisted the sheets, barely registering the way Yuta cooed at you as you were being wrecked, his hand patting your head.

Winwin had both hands on your hips as he rocked his length deeper inside of you, making your legs turn jelly as you tried to hold yourself up, as Winwin snaps his hips against your flesh, the sounds of skin slapping against skin resonating off the walls of your wide room, mixed with the mutters of encouragement from Yuta, his voice the only thing keeping you from losing your mind completely to the thick fog of pleasure clouding your head.

Winwin could feel you high nearing as your walls start to develop a vice grip on his length, Winwin holds up one of your thighs to angle himself better, thrusting  directly onto your sweet spot, a silent scream leaving your lungs as your arms finally gave away, your orgasm crashing onto you from the tip of your toes as you were blinded by a beam of white light.

Winwin tried his best to hold off his orgasm and rode out yours, jaw clenched at the feeling of your warm walls practically sucking him. He pulled out when you were finished, pulling off the condom, and jerking himself off, a moan leaving his lips when Yuta suddenly pulled him in a kiss, smiling into it as he feels Winwin’s body submitting to him, Yuta’s hand reached down to tug at his cock roughly, just like old times, letting Winwin paint your back white as he moaned Yuta’s name on repeat, like a mantra to worship him, Winwin falls onto the bed beside you when his orgasm ended, feeling the energy leaving his limbs.

“The two of you did so good just now, Yuta said as he caresses both your cheeks with two different hands, the action non chalant, as if he was just toying around with Ten’s kittens. Yuta then climbs over you, grateful for the large space of the bed, and strips off his clothes, you gulped when his hand removes his tie, hoping that you didn’t do anything to offend if he ever wanted to tie you up, but he didn’t, instead he was rather gentle now, which made you question the motive behind his gentle act.

You pulled him closer by the back of his nape, doe eyes staring at him with curiosity, “You’re not being yourself today, what are you hiding underneath your sleeve, Yuta?” you asked as your thumb reached back to trace the curve of his bottom lip, you also noticed how he didn’t take another condom for himself just now, nor showing any signs of reaching for one

“Nothing ever goes unnoticed by you, my love,” Yuta said with a mischievous coy on his lips. Yuta pushes a strand of hair behind your ear as he takes in your beautiful features, “I’m going to breed you.”

You could feel your pussy pulsating at the thought of being filled up, thighs rubbing against each other to relief the throbbing ache, a consequent of what Yuta just said.

“I see you love the idea,” Yuta said as he slips a hand in between your legs, a finger reaching out to scoop up your juices, popping the finger into his mouth to taste you, eyes rolling back once the taste hits his buds, he’s addicted to your sweet nectar.

Yuta kisses you passionately, hands wandering down to grope your breasts and ass, kneading and pinching at every handful of flesh he could find, his usual roughness showing, his inner wolf reaching its surface, lured out by the sweet scent of your heat. Yuta breaks off the kiss to litter your neck with more marks, sucking at your sweet spot, making you gasp for air at the shock of pleasure shooting down your spine, a moan of his name escaping your parted lips.

Yuta spread open your legs once he was done with your neck, all the attention trained on the way he slipped his length inside of you inch by inch, feeling the drag of your raw walls against his cock was an addictive feeling he’ll never get bored of. Once he had filled you to the brim, he started his quick thrusts, a gasp leaving your lips from the sudden wave of pleasure, different from how Winwin preferred a gradual build up, he must’ve really enjoyed the show, from how hard he’s fucking you.

Yuta held onto your thighs as he went even faster, summoning his wolf strength as he hits your sweet spot, finding it as easy as the back of his palm, your back arched into Yuta’s, your nipples rubbing against his, the mix of pain and pleasure sending shocks down south. You were getting fucked dumb at this point, your mind was empty, other than registering the pleasure coursing through your veins. You started digging your nails onto Yuta’s hand, but the pain only fueled him to thrust harder, making you yelp his name as tears started streaming down your face as you could only blabber parts of Yuta’s name in between high pitched whimpers, the coil in your abdomen threatening to snap once again.

Yuta could feel your walls tightening around his, so he lifted up your legs, folding one against your chest, the other on his shoulder to allow him a more accurate angle to thrust into your sweet spot, summoning even more of his wolf strength to piston into you at an inhuman pace, his brows furrowed in concentration as he clenched his jaw, focusing on chasing both your highs.

You started full on bawling at the new pace he set, eyes struggling to open, only catching glimpse of how quick his hips are before you shut them from the overwhelming pleasure in your bundle of nerves. You weren’t thinking anymore, slipping into subspace as your legs fall from their positions, Yuta was about to tell you off for distracting him, but one look into your glossy eyes told him that you weren’t in your normal mindset anymore.

Yuta rubbed your clit in rough circles, bringing you over the edge, ripping a scream from you as your walls convulsed around his length, your warm release pushing Yuta over the edge as well, his length growing in size, as he cums, knotting him inside you as ribbons of white spurts paint your velvet walls, a broken grunt of your name escaping his lips as the sweat from his forehead drips onto your stomach.

Yuta peppers kisses on your face along with his praises as his knot takes its pace, knowing that it’ll be sometime before he could slip out without hurting you. Yuta cuddles into you, as you shut your eyes, tired from the energy draining activity, slipping into slumber.

Yuta holds an arm out, waving Winwin over to the other side.

“I shouldn’t stay,” Winwin said as he tries to get off the bed, but stopped when he felt a tug on his wrist.

“Stay, she wouldn’t mind, and no omega should be deprived from cuddles after fucking, especially when in heat.”

“Fine, just this once,” Winwin grumbled, but his lips threaten to tug upwards, knowing that this probably won’t be the last time as he settles himself into Yuta’s embrace.

[twigg96]

If you're still doing asks, how about what it would be like spending christmas with each of the Metalocalypse gang as your s/o? ❤💚

Hey guys!! I’d love to thank @amazonboatchurch for another fantastic question!! This really put me in the mood to write some cutesy holidays things today ❤️💚 I hope you all enjoy these HCs!!!

Nathan: This boi grew up around traditional Christmas trees and a semi-functional family. Even though he was a military brat he knows that Christas is one of the most special times of year that you spend with the ones you love. He would make sure that your Christmas was done right and according to your traditions. You want to wear silly matching pajamas on Christmas Eve? You got it. You want him to wear one of those God awful ugly sweaters? Done no complaints. You want a real tree instead of an aluminum one? Your wish is his command. Dinner with the parents… That’s Doable. Anything you want to do to make the holidays special Nathan is more than down for. Because he just wants to make you happy.

Pickles: Our poor little red head has some serious PTSD when it comes to almost any holiday I would assume. Seth being the Golden Child really messed him up emotionally so watching his brother open better presents, or gifts he wanted as a youngster as well as being told “If you weren’t so bad then maybe you’d earn better presents.” Or worse. “God doesn’t love you enough to get you that this year.” really soured his taste on Christmas. Pickles was very much a “Bah Humbug” type of person who drowned himself in his sorrows before he met you. Even then it probably took you a while to break through his many Christmas themed walls to get to where you are now. The promise of cookies forced the junkie out of his hovel just to have you trick him into helping him bake them too. A tradition that stuck through the years. It took another week before Pickles was comfortable helping to decorate and really all he did was put the star on the tree, an honor he was refused at home because his short stature. But you took his progress in stride helping him to grow comfortable until one day you caught him drunk and high in one of your Christmas sweaters. Snuggling close to him and laying a sweet kiss to his rosy cheek choosing not to comment on how much he looked like a red headed dreaded Santa in that moment.

Skwisgaar: Christmas is a time of year Skwisgaar held dear to his heart. His mother came around, yes. But she was kind and caring during this time, doting on her darling boy, a pleasure he enjoyed while he could. Skwisgaar himself seemed to tame domestically during the holidays. Not wanting to do much except cuddle next to the fire under thick wool sweaters and blankets with big mugs of hot cocoa. Sometimes he’d even slip in a marshmallow because “you ams just so sweet.” Besides hoarding you away, his other favorite thing to do would be taking you all around town to show you all the beautiful light displays that people had put up that year. He would love to watch the lights twinkle in your eyes as he brushed freshly fallen snow from you cheeks and hair. He’d fall deeper in love with each passing display.

Murderface: Despite contrary belief Murderface had some really good holidays with his grandparents. Yes his Grandma could be harsh and hyper critical but she truly loved and spoiled the shit out of her miracle baby growing up. But as he got older she expected him to get the family some stellar gifts in return. Because of this, William had some top tier gift choosing abilities. He loves to shop and flaunt you around, being the one that you turn to when your wondering what color to get or if that’s the right item. “No no no! Picklesch would much rather have the green bong truscht me babe.” And when it came down to YOUR gift Christmas morning. Watch out. Murderface goes big. Weather it’s huge expensive diamonds, new cars, or trips to exotic places. He always makes sure your satisfied by the end of Christmas.

Toki: Little baby Toki had never celebrated Christmas until he came over to America. But now it’s his favorite holiday. He loves the idea of a big happy family spending time together and loving each other unconditionally for a full day no questions asked. Toki would drag you everywhere with him in the coming weeks to Christmas. First he’d switch all your wardrobe into Christmas sweaters to match the season. Then he would have you help him decorate the entirety of Mordhaus both inside and out. Followed by your apartment if you weren’t already living together. Next he’d watch as you baked cookies for Santa. He’d only be allowed to watch because the one time he helped he nearly set the kitchen on fire, added too much vanilla, and ate all the chocolate chips before slipping into a diabetic coma. Toki would bring you shopping to make sure he picked out perfect presents for everyone. Having you help wrap everything once you both got home. Then on Christmas morning you would unwrap the perfect present from the most excited Norwegian in the entire world begging to know if what he got you was good enough. If you cried he would just freeze until you hugged him and told him it was perfect and he was perfect.

Bonus!!!

Charles: The business man himself seems very cold and calculating but at times he can be very thoughtful and sweet. A small usb powered aluminum Christmas tree would sit at the corner of his desk. One that Toki would have surely bought him and he cherishes dearly. He would wrap tiny little gifts, placing them under the tree for the boys to take when they were upset or needed a pick me up. Charles would plan your Christmas gift like he would plan a Dethklok Concert. He would hire an entire team of experts to research the best gifts, no matter the price. Scouring each possible result he research it himself mercilessly until it failed his testing. Until finally he found the one. Something he knew you’d love or would have been asking for. He’d buy it and wrap it neatly hiding it away in his desk before inviting you over on Christmas. He wouldn’t expect a gift from you but when you brought him one and laid a kiss on his lips. He wouldn’t say he wasn’t pleased. He would chuckle as you excitedly waited for him to open his gift first. A new laptop. Something he desperately needed. Sliding into his lap you’d open your gift slowly, careful not to make a mess of the paper. Something he admires in you. A trip away. Just the two of you. It was the vacation you had been yearning for.

Magnus: The curly haired man wasn’t much for Christmas. But much like Nathan he too strives to make you happy. He’d help you decorate the apartment with whatever meager decorations you both could afford. He would be very grateful for his height as he easily strung lights along the walls and placed the star atop the tree without effort. His mouth would water as you baked cookies in the next room as he practiced his guitar, but he would complain if you tried to feed him any. Saying things like “you’re trying to kill me with all that sugar.” And “I don’t like sweets.” Although when your back is turned, he would definitely steal a few to try. Neither of you have much cash for gifts. So you both end up making an agreement to make each other’s gift that year. Magnus writes and plays a new song for you Christmas Day. It’s beautifully slow and melodic something that came straight from the heart. You too wrote a song for Magnus. Lyrics that by complete coincidence match his melody perfectly. Together you too rock the day away. Magnus feeling his heart swell with love and admiration for you by the second as you make him a grand meal. Standing beneath the doorway Magnus would glance up, noticing that he would be standing under the mistletoe. Pulling you over to him, he’d kiss you sweetly and tenderly. A thank you for all you have ever done for him.

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 9

Masterlist

As always thank you to my beautiful bestie @acollectionofficsandshit you can also thank her for all the Max content in this chapter. Its a long one, enjoy!

Word Count: 9.6k

Recommended song: “Hate the way” by G-Easy and blackbear

The one thing that never failed to lift your spirits was your dad's homemade blueberry chocolate chip pancakes. Whenever you were upset as a kid, whether it be your team losing a sporting event, your high-school boyfriend dumping you for the head cheerleader, or getting rejected from an ivy league college you never expected to get into in the first place, his pancakes had been there to cushion the fall. Clever as he was, he always messed them up in some insignificant way like leaving off the whipped cream and hiding the container so you were forced to talk to him in order to remedy it. Then he would crack some stupid joke or cheesy pun that would just barely have the ghost of a smile curling your lips.

Blueberry chocolate chip pancakes were no match for the heartbreak of losing your best friend.

The morning after, you only trudge to the kitchen when your stomach's demands to be fed become too loud to ignore. A steaming pile of fluffy pancakes sits at your usual spot, no syrup in sight. You don't have the energy to find your dad and ask where he's hidden it, instead picking at them. You knew the flavor should be fruity and sweet but every bite tastes like ash. One pancake is all you can manage before nausea roils, threatening to make your meager brunch resurface. 

"Some is better than none," Ben murmurs behind you and you drop your chin in the barest of nods. "We can save the rest and you can warm them up later."

"Thanks," you mumble when he takes your plate. You pull your blanket tight around your shoulders as your gaze turns to the window while your brother washes your dishes, wishing for all the world that you could make your uncooperative limbs move and help him but the mental effort it requires is too taxing. Instead you stay curled up on the chair, the noises of the house waking up around you a dull buzz in your ears. At some point your mother kisses your head and hustles out the door to work, her husband close behind. Ben is the last to leave and is reluctant to do so.

"Promise you'll text me if you need me," he says. "Mom already gave me permission to cut class after trigonometry."

"Sure." You both know it's a lie and a bad one at that. Your voice is dull and flat, completely void of emotion. 

"Mom said she's coming home early anyway,” he tries. “Something about overstaffing at the greenhouse."

"Okay."

The mechanical spooling of the garage door tells you he's finally gone. Your elbows slide forward until your head rests on the table, unable to hold it up any longer.

Every fiber of your being yearns for him, to hear the distinct r's and flowery lilt of his accent as he comforts you through the heartbreak, always knowing exactly what to say. It was second nature to call one another when either of you had had a bad day or a good day or just a normal day - you'd talked so often that last year you had convinced your parents to add international minutes to your phone plan. 

Your fingers itch to dial the number you had long since memorized, knowing it would ring no more than twice before he picked up. He never let it go to voicemail unless he absolutely couldn't avoid it and you had a hunch he was waiting for your call.

Despite knowing better, you scroll through the messages on your phone. Love was evident in each witty remark and wish goodnight, pulling at your heartstrings. Your finger hovers over the delete conversation button, and after a minute of debate, you can't bring yourself to do it. You would allow yourself one reprieve to look back on and remember the good.

It would be so much easier if he had given you a reason to hate him. If he'd cheated or intentionally led the media to your house, hating him would be easy. You wouldn't have to admit that you still loved him because his betrayal would have yanked out the newly blooming bud of love you nurtured and crushed the fragile petals. Instead, you were left knowing that it had been your choice to inflict damage in him. You had no right to seek comfort in his arms or even ask how he was doing. You deserved to be miserable for causing him to feel the same way. 

Yuki is the first to check in on you. You don’t know what he expects; you lie through your teeth when you tell him you were fine.

The press is asking me for my thoughts. No idea why. I told them not to stick their noses where they don't belong.

At least someone had the guts to stand up to those bloodsuckers. Yuki was the last person you'd suspect to do so, but the scrappy twenty-something continued to surprise you.

Thanks, you type back. How is he?

You hesitate. You didn't really want to know the answer. Pierre was devastated and just as broken as you are. You delete the last part and opt to refrain from subjecting yourself to biting off more than you could chew.

I'm here if you need me, is Yuki's reply.

Charles, Daniel, and his newly promoted girlfriend were the next ones to text you, all offering varying degrees of support. Daniel's friend was the one that offered to sucker punch anyone that came near you without your permission, and actually dragged a single huff of laughter from your aching lungs.

I'm good thanks. But if I need a bodyguard you'll be first on the list.

Just because Daniel can lift me with one arm doesn't mean I'm not punchy!

I believe you.

Spent, you set your phone down and retreat under the down comforter. The bright pink clashed with your earthy decor, but at least the old blanket didn't smell like Pierre. Your mother had taken it upon herself to erase all trace of him from your room when she had managed to coax you into a shower, and the half hour you had spent letting the scalding water run over your skin had given her plenty of time to do so. The absence of him hurts almost as much as the trace of cedar you know you're imagining when you breathe deep.

It has to be impossible for so much agony to be contained in your body. No matter how much you try, the tears won't stop flowing because Pierre's crushed expression had taken up residence at the forefront of your consciousness. 

It didn't help that so many of your recent memories were touched by his presence. Getting into university served to remind you of the ecstatic call you'd gotten after his race that Sunday, voice strained with a mix of excitement for you and the disappointment of his race ending crash on the opening lap. Even something as simple as staring at the saggy bean bag chair in the corner brought back the memory of the countless times he had lounged there, sprawled out like he owned it.

Max's text brings you briefly back to reality.

You doing okay? Dan told me what happened.

No, was all you say back. Within a minute, Max's face occupies your screen. You sigh but accept the call, laying the phone on the pillow.

"I don't feel like talking, Max."

"That bad huh?" He asks, concern lacing his usually chipper voice.

"Yeah. That bad." As if that summed up getting your heart torn to shreds.

He's uncharacteristically quiet for a beat. "Wanna hear about Vic's day? She had some crazy clients at her salon- it'll take your mind off it."

"I guess," you say, utterly nonplussed. You could care less if he kept talking or not, you wouldn't be paying attention. He prattles on for a few minutes, seemingly unaffected by your silence as his words pass through one ear and out the other.

"Told you it was crazy," he says finally, your cue to respond. You hum noncommittally and Max just sighs.

"Look, I don't know how I can help you unless you come here. I know you have a flight booked- do you still wanna come to the gala? My date's been stolen so I'm in need of one."

"Who stole your-"

The realization hits you before you can finish. Pierre. Pierre stole Max's sister and left him without a date. Something about his willingness to replace you so quickly rubs you the wrong way. It shouldn't have been so easy for him to find someone new; he should be hurting just as much as you. Fundamentally, you knew nothing would happen between Pierre and Victoria. She wouldn't go for him out of respect for both of you and you were thankful in the knowledge that it was completely platonic. Still, it was like rubbing salt in a wound. 

"You know what? I'll go." It was the most you'd said all day, your throat scratchy with disuse. Max whoops on the other line and you could almost see him punching the air in victory.

"Great! When's your flight get in? I'll bring the Acura and pick you up." 

You put him on speaker and login to the airlines website to punch in the flight number. Last night you'd debated canceling the flight that Pierre had paid for, determined to stay home and be miserable. Looking back you were glad you'd trusted your gut and left the reservation untouched. If he could find someone else to attend the gala with, so could you. "I land in Nice at noon on Friday. It'll be a short flight, I can text you when we take off."

"Sounds good. I'll set up the spare room for you. Victoria is staying here too, I'm sure she would love to help you get ready and do whatever it is girls do before fancy events."

"Hey, Max?"

"Whats up?"

You trace patterns through the condensation left by the glass on your nightstand. "Thank you. For understanding."

"That's what friends are for," he assures you. "Is there anything you wanna talk about now? Or are you planning to wait until you're here?"

"Ben's been keeping an eye on me. I'm okay for now." Better now that you had something to look forward to.

"All you have to do is call," he promises. "I'll listen, I don't have anything going on this week besides streaming."

You latch on to the small redirection and run with it. "You and the twitch quartet?"

"They've been kind enough to allow me to join them on the sim this week, yeah."

"I'll try to catch a race. No promises though." 

"See you Friday. Try to contain your excitement."

Your lips twitch upward. "Bye Max."

**********

The rest of the week was more of the same. You stayed home and your family dealt with the swarms of people that still gathered on the lawn each morning not so patiently waiting for you to tell your side of the story. You had decided that the best course of action was to keep your mouth shut and let them figure out for themselves that there was no longer a story to report thanks to the wedge they had driven in your relationship.

By the time Ben drives you to the airport Friday the buzz has died down. You hug your brother tight before checking in for the flight and texting Max. His response is immediate, letting you know he's excited to see you.

You wish you could return the sentiment. You wanted to see your friend, sure, but you were beginning to dread the upcoming gala. Max would be your crutch and you knew he was okay with that, but it still felt wrong. 

Unlike your brother, Max was waiting at the curb when you arrived in Nice. A nondescript cap was perched on his head, the oversized sunglasses he wore hiding his eyes from passersby. His gleaming orange peel of a car attracted more attention than he did for once, people stopping to ogle the Acura as they came and went.

"Hey you," Max greets, a broad grin causing his trademark dimple to appear as he wraps you in a rare hug. You cling to him, throat going tight at the intimacy of it. Max wasn't a physical person by any stretch; if he was hugging you this tightly it meant he knew how broken you were.

He waited for you to break contact first, giving you all the time you need. You sniff and wipe the single tear that had somehow escaped and laugh lightly.

"Hey," you say, voice scratchy. "Thanks for picking me up." 

He waves a hand, brushing it off. "Vic wanted to come but she changed her mind when I told her I was driving."

"Probably a smart choice," you observe, letting him pop the trunk- which was in the front of the car, since the Acura NSX was a mid-engined beast of a Japanese supercar- "and considering your choice of car, she wouldn't have fit anyway."

"This is true." He starts the engine, the roar of which makes a poor old woman a few yards away drop her purse.

The drive back is near silent, broken only by Max's occasional quips about a landmark or an observation about someone's driving. It was impossible for any driver to turn off the analytical part of their brain, their Formula 1 habits crossing into their daily lives. 

When Max parks at the curb outside his apartment, you move to open the door but he hits the lock button. You glance over your shoulder at him and quirk a brow.

"Am I your prisoner?"

"Are you gonna talk about what happened?"

Sighing, you sink back into the seat. The way the bolstering hugs your sides almost makes you believe you could fade into it if you try hard enough. "I wasn't really planning on it."

It had only been a handful of days since you had broken it off, the wound still leaking fresh blood when you poked at it. It refused to scab over or give you any kind of reprieve from the torture.

"You know you'll have to face him tomorrow at some point. He'll want to talk to you."

"That's why I'm going with you. You won't have a problem telling him to leave me alone."

Max sighs. "Yeah, I suppose. If that's what you think is best."

The trudge up the stairs and subsequent silent elevator ride allows your thoughts to wander to Victoria. It wasn't her fault that Pierre had asked her to come with him after you'd canceled, after all she was already planning on going and the late notice meant it was likely no one else could make it, but it didn't stop the pang of jealousy that rocketed through you each time you ruminate on it.

It didn't help when she wrapped you in a hug the moment she saw you and whispered an apology in your ear, like she knew she'd done something wrong. Tears spring to your eyes again and Victoria shoots Max a leave us alone look.

"Uh, I'm gonna hop on the sim. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Thanks Max." Your eyes are pinned to a smudge of dirt on the wood floor, safely out of range of anything triggering. Keeping it together was more of a struggle than you'd expected.

"I hope you don't hate me," Victoria starts genuine concern lacing the words. "It was just easiest-"

"I know," you cut in. "And I don't." Your smile is tight, not quite hitting home as she returns it.

"Well then. Let's figure out how we're gonna do your hair tomorrow, shall we?"

**********

The dress was a single, simple piece of fabric, spun of sunset orange and free of any bells or whistles. The feather light chiffon hugged every supple curve through your hips until flaring out slightly at the bottom just enough to allow you range of motion. The deep vee of the neckline prominently displayed your cleavage, toeing the line between attention grabbing and scandal starting and leaving little to the imagination. The back dropped low, leaving the elegant curve of your spine free to be kissed by the salty Mediterranean breeze.

The dress is nothing special compared to the thousand dollar pieces that the other boy's dates would be wearing, but you didn't have the money- or the will- to find something new. It by no means broke the bank when you picked it up from the second hand store last year, but it looked the part. It had been a showstopper at the spring formal you'd originally worn it to and judging by Max's reaction, it still was.

He let out a low whistle when you stepped into the living room. "I'm sorry, did you pick that out with me in mind?" He laughs and despite yourself, heat rises to your cheeks. You hated being the center of attention, even among friends. "It's the perfect shade of orange to match my tie. I swear I didn't plan it that way!"

"I know you didn't." You give him a forced smile, praying he doesn't call you out on it. The dress you wore hadn't been your first choice. The one you originally planned to wear still sat in your closet at home collecting dust. It had been the perfect shade of blue to compliment Pierre's sky eyes, but it didn't match Max's deeper ocean blue. So at home it had stayed, and you had chosen the orange one because it made the necklace at your throat pop.

Your fingers engulf the stone before you can stop yourself, as they always do when your thoughts wander to him. Him, because you could scarcely think his name before your heart wretches at the reminder of what you'd lost. Flashes of bright smiles and soft kisses filter through your mind, making you lock up. You swear you can feel the ghost of plush lips to your throat and the scrape of callouses over the curve of your spine. Your eyes fall shut, desperate to get lost in the idea of him like you used to.

"You good?"

Max's quiet words startle you back into the present. No, you were in no way shape or form good, but you had no choice to fall back on the familiar mask of humor to cover up your inner turmoil.

"The real question is are you?" You smirk and look him over. The Red Bull navy suit strains over his broad shoulders, suggesting he had put on muscle since the last time he'd been forced into it. "You look stiff as a board in that tux."

"I feel so awkward." He straightens the suit coat and absentmindedly lifts a hand to tousle his hair. You grab his wrist just in time to keep him from ruining his sister's hard work and shoot him a chiding look. He grins sheepishly and lowers his hand.

"Vic would kill me if you got to the gala looking like you got run over." 

"That's a good point." He offers you his arm and you accept the lifeline he unwittingly offers you. "But I refuse to leave the windows up on this beautiful night, so we'll test how well it'll hold."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. "You're driving us there?"

"Well duh. I always drive when I'm at home."

You glance sidelong at the glaringly orange Acura parked at the curb a few floors below. Your dress would blend right in with the paint, but perhaps that was a good thing. It would provide that much more of a shock factor when you arrived and stepped out.

"Just don't crash out on the hairpin," you tease half heartedly. 

He rolls his eyes. "At least it's just the two of us so I don't have to call an uber. Vic's getting picked up by-'' Max cuts himself off and gives you an apologetic smile.

"You can say his name," you whisper, eyes trained on the tile of the hallway as you walk. "It's not like he's gone."

"Getting picked up by... Pierre," Max tries, carefully monitoring his neutral tone. God, you thought you could handle it but you can't, stumbling over your own feet with only Max's grip on your arm to catch you.

He'd dance with Vic tonight, and probably countless other women, his hands drifting over their bodies like they'd done on yours only days ago. You'd be forced to watch from the sidelines and make small talk that no one would remember come morning, utterly unable to do anything about it. At least Daniel’s girlfriend would be there to be the voice of reason, if you could peel her away from Daniel long enough to speak with her for any length of time.

Max was uncharacteristically quiet on the ride to the venue, leaving you to study the city as he drove. Few yachts were left in the harbor as the sun was swallowed by the sea, the owners undoubtedly set sail for a weekend getaway. Your gaze involuntarily searched for the slip that held Charles' Ferrari red speedboat that you'd visited countless times with Pierre. The eyesore was hard to miss when surrounded by its monotone brethren, memories flooding back in droves at the sight of it.

Sighing, you turn away to glimpse what you can of the city through the ridiculously tiny sliver of windshield. How anyone could confidently drive the Acura while having so little field of vision was beyond you. It was probably second nature to Max, who weaves through the narrow streets with practiced ease and barely lets off the gas through the corners. 

The city of Monaco rarely slept, and tonight was no different. Soft yellow fluorescent glow seeps from high rise balconies, the occupants soaking up the last dregs of sunlight before heading out to the casinos and clubs. People spilled out of cafes onto the sidewalks, their laughter lingering on the breeze as you speed past.

The list of people you trust enough to get in the car with and let them drive with such intensity is short: Max and Pierre. Not even Daniel made the final cut, not when his then not-girlfriend had recounted the tale of him losing the rear of his McLaren 570s at a track day and nearly sending them into the wall. According to her, he'd been too busy ogling her to keep his full attention on the road, but it was enough for you to question his judgement at times.

If you close your eyes, you could pretend it was someone else next to you, cutting through the gears like a hot knife through butter and coaxing every inch of performance out of the car that he could with the light traffic. You draw a surf-scented breath deep, lungs aching with the effort. 

Max joins the queue of cars waiting to park outside the venue, your attention trained on the guests stepping out of cars and climbing the wide set of marble steps leading to the sleek glass building. The modern structure is slightly out of place among the Roman-esque buildings surrounding it but the air of importance it exudes overrules any who dare say it doesn't belong.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that there's an open bar," Max remarks, hanging his head out the window to wave at someone. "It makes these events so much easier."

"You're telling me," you mumble, searching involuntarily for a familiar head of dusty blond hair in the droves of people arriving. Instead of sight, it's the unforgettable rumble of his Civic Type R's exhaust that alerts you to his arrival. Your head whips around, eyes eating up the pearl white paint of Pierre's favored car as it slides in behind you. You silently thank whatever deity is listening that his windshield is tinted, protecting you from seeing the smirk you are certain is playing on his lips.

Once upon a time, the cockpit of that car had been your favorite place in the world. You'd spent countless hours inside it eating shitty gas station cuisine and singing along to the radio at the top of your lungs as Pierre drove you to whatever adventure he had planned for the day. 

Max waves at your- his friend, you remind yourself sharply- and revs his Acura in response. He leaves the keys with the valet, picking up on the tension in your shoulders as the white car parks behind you. Max tugs your arm in attempt to turn you away, but your feet are rooted to the spot. 

“I see you found another date-” The flash of a grin on Pierre's face as he steps out is immediately dashed when he notices you on Max's arm.

If looks could kill, Max would keel over then and there. A muscle in Pierre's jaw flutters as he takes in the sight of the two of you together, your hand on the Dutchman's forearm and your matching attire looking for all the world as if it was purposefully coordinated. 

Max lifts his chin, spine going straight under Pierre's threatening glare. “Her airfare was already paid for and she already had the dress. Someone had to take her.”

Your stomach sinks; the last thing you wanted to do was become a point of contention between the two boys, but you refused to apologize for at least attempting to enjoy yourself. 

Pierre doesn't speak again, only nods to Max and pointedly avoids your stare. He tosses the keys to the smart-dressed kid serving as his valet, coming around to open Victoria's door. With his back turned to you, you take a moment to study the crisp white suit he's chosen for tonight. You had always told him black wasn't his color and he seemed to have taken it to heart. White was what you loved seeing him in, and the tight cut brought back memories of a different type of suit in an entirely different city only a few weeks ago. You'd peeled him out of that Alpha Tauri race suit the moment he made it to the trailer, eager to worship him after his podium. You'd be lying if you said it hasn't been the best sex of your life.

"Come on," Max urges, placing a chaste hand on your upper back and turning you around. He leads you up the stairs, his comforting touch never leaving your skin for a moment. The callouses were all wrong, the fingers too broad to be who you wanted it to be, and yet you couldn't help but imagine it was Pierre leading you up, stopping to smile for the few cameras scattered around.

Flashes spot your vision as you pull your face into an expression of excitement. Max murmurs something in your ear that you think is encouragement but the din of reporters is too deafening to be sure.

"How come you aren't with Pierre?"

The shouted question comes from an unknown assailant but it strikes you like a physical blow. You freeze, mouth going dry as you search for a suitable excuse. Max grants you the space of a single heartbeat to respond before he does so on your behalf.

"How about you mind your own damn business and worry about your cheating wife?"

The man who had bombarded you goes slack jawed, Max's wild guess clearly somehow hitting him just as hard as he had hit you.

"Keep walking," he urges you, leading you through the blinding sea of flashing lights. When you hear the same question directed at Pierre, his flippant laugh grates on your nerves.  

You don't have it in you to appreciate the grand architecture of the entrance hall, too busy trying to keep your breathing in check. Max steers you off to the side and places his hands on your shoulders.

"Look at me," he demands, and you drag your eyes up to his face. "Breathe. He's hurting just as bad as you, only difference is he's better at hiding it. Just enjoy the night okay? I'll grab you a drink and we can find Daniel and his friend and you two can catch up."

You nod, placing a hand on your throat. The delicate chain of the necklace is a vice around your neck, the reminder of him pulling it tight. Your pulse hammers beneath your fingers and you focus on it until it slows. "Get me whatever you're having."

Max disappears in the crowd, and you take a seat at the bench tucked in the corner. No one pays you any heed as they walk past, entranced by the elegant decor and fragrant florals. Your head falls forward to rest in your hands and you struggle to take deep, calming breaths.

Pierre was here. Inhale.

He looked happy. Exhale.

He was getting by. Inhale.

You could get by, too. Exhale.

Renewed, you glance up in time to find Max standing before you with a drink of dark liquid adorned with maraschino cherries in each hand. He extends one glass to you and you don't bother to question what it is before swallowing half in one go. "Better?"

"Much." You stand and brush out the wrinkles in your dress. "Where are we sitting?"

"Er, about that," Max starts, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "They put two teams at each table. We're at the Red Bull Alpha Tauri table."

"I see." You take another deep, steadying breath, letting the anxiety ebbing in your veins fade out with the exhale. It was times like this that you channeled Daniel a bit. It sounded silly and you would never admit it, but the slogans on his helmets worked if you focused on them hard enough. All good, all ways.

If Pierre could get through tonight, so could you.

“I can try to see if I can switch tables-”

"It's fine," you say and down the rest of the drink. “I can handle it.”

Max shifts on his feet, his discomfort something you rarely see from him. He usually excelled at keeping a straight face in uncomfortable situations but it seems that your unease rubbed off on him. “We should get going then, dinner will be served any minute.”

You once again take the arm he offers you, the liquor in your veins already granting you false courage. “We would have time to mingle if you hadn’t taken the scenic route.”

“It was nice out,” he protests, and pulls you to a halt when he spots Daniel across the hall. His girlfriend waves at you with a sad smile. She gestures between the two of you to indicate that you’ll talk later before Daniel pulls her towards the McLaren table. That boy was punctual to a fault and would be caught dead before he was late to anything.

Thankfully, the two of you arrive before Victoria and her date and are able to secure seats that ensure there’s a buffer between you. By some small miracle Christian Horner and his wife were absent and instead a few engineers and their significant others sat at the packed table. Max greets Gianpiero while you take your seat, happy to observe.

“Hey!”

You twist in time to see Yuki’s short frame emerge from the crowd and point to the empty seat to your right. “This one taken?”

You shake your head, standing to give him a quick hug. “How are you doing? Where’s your date?”

“Ah, she couldn’t make it. Had some family stuff to take care of. You look great, by the way.”

You dip your chin in thanks, unsure how else to respond. He was in a white suit that you were sure would wind up stained five minutes into dinner. “Did they mandate that you wear white?”

He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “Honestly, it’s the only one I own. I haven't been to enough events to build up my closet yet."

"Well I think it's…"

You spot Pierre before he sees you. His brow is slightly creased as he hunts for the correct table using the same focused determination as when driving his Alpha. For a split second, he meets your gaze. The cacophony of the event fades to background noise and suddenly it's just the two of you and you damn near lift your hand in a wave. You're positive he can see your heart beating out of your chest like in an old cartoon as you curl your fingers into a fist in your lap. Your restraint proves fatal, the floor falling out from beneath your feet when he drops your stare. This was your new normal, you remind yourself. Stolen glances were all you would get.

"I can move," Yuki says, starting to rise. You grip his wrist, holding him in place.

"Please don't." The only other open seats were across the table, and at least then you didn't have to worry about brushing elbows with him all night long.

Yuki nods, slowly settling back in. Max finally takes his seat after giving your shoulder a supportive squeeze.

"You don't have to say anything to him," he reminds you, barely audible over the scrape of chairs and various chatter.

You find anywhere else to look as Pierre pulls out Vic's chair for her and makes his rounds to greet everyone. Daniel and his girlfriend are seated a few tables away and you distract yourself by attempting to read their lips. You manage a few minutes of tenuous peace, catching snippets of Daniel's cheesy jokes and her disapproving, yet flirty, responses.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of home. His words are honey and you lap them up like you'd never tasted anything sweeter. They weren't even directed at you and yet somehow you twist them to fit your narrative.

Pierre stands at the bottom of the stairs like a chaste high school prom date patiently waiting for your grand entrance. He checks his watch and rakes a hand through his messy hair. You stifle your laugh with a hand, amused by his unnecessary nervous energy.

Taking mercy on him, you clear your throat. His gaze snaps up to you, mouth falling open. You take your time gathering the orange fabric of your dress and descending the stairs, savoring the way he eats you up. He was resplendent in his crisp white tuxedo and you had half a mind to make him late for the gala and strip him out of it then and there and devour him.

Your heels clack on the marble floor of his entirely too fancy apartment and you pause to do a little spin for him, earning you an appreciative whistle for your trouble. A laugh bubbles out of you and you place your hands on his shoulders. His own settle on your waist to pull you flush against him, his body heat soaking through the thin fabric of your dress to warm your core.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You start when knuckles graze the back of your bare neck. The touch is there and gone but you know immediately that it's Pierre. It's slight enough to be brushed off as accidental to anyone else, but nothing was accidental with Pierre. The barely there contact conveys more than any words ever could. 

He still loved you. You looked stunning. He wishes you were still his so he could prove it to you. All this and so much more contained in a half second brush of his skin to yours.

It all comes back to you in a rush, the emotion you'd so carefully tucked away in a locked box in the back of your mind finally set free. His touch ignites any other thought in your mind that isn't him, burning it away until it's ashes on the wind. 

Despite your better judgement, you lean into him, giving him permission to unravel you. This time you sigh when his fingers ghost over your skin, electricity sparking in their wake. You didn't care who might be watching; the tiny touches were slowly repairing your shattered heart. Your traitorous mind replaces his fingers with the brush of his lips to your nape, imagining the heat as he slides the strap of your dress off your shoulder, lips moving to follow.

You bite your lip to stifle a groan when his heat is withdrawn, leaving you feeling inexplicably naked. You open your eyes to find Victoria's pitying stare paired with an apologetic smile. Max nudges you with his elbow, and you realize someone has addressed you.

"Um, what?"

"I said I like how you guys coordinated outfits," Pierre repeats and openly prods your shoulder. "Obviously Max chose the color."

His tone is playful, but his words are clipped in a way only you understand. Craning your neck, you twist to look up at him. His eyes are cloudy and his smile doesn't reach them, more for show than anything else. "It was an accident."

"Doesn't look that way."

Your retort is ready on your tongue but he doesn't give you a chance to reply before retreating to his seat. His ability to act as if nothing has changed astounds you, as your head is still reeling from the pinpricks of his skin on yours. Instead of being rendered speechless, he strikes up a conversation with Yuki about the Alpha's performance, leaving out the confidential details but giving enough away that it surprises you.

The sheer fact that he can so easily switch off whatever feelings he harbors is unfair. The sensation of his fingers on your neck still lingers and it's all you can do to keep from stepping around the table and slotting yourself between his legs like you had in that bar in London. Your nails bite into your palms, listening in if only for his voice to wash over you and calm your racing heart.

When he mentions the rake angle, you know it's just to mislead anyone who might be eavesdropping. He'd told you the exact angle in the past, and it certainly was not one degree, and it did not cause the level of understeer he was describing.

"The understeer comes from improper tire selection," you blurt. "And driver error."

All eyes turn to you and you straighten. You knew enough about the construction of a Formula 1 car to be positive your assessment was correct. You were almost as certain that he'd said it to force you into speaking to him whether you liked it or not.

"What was that?"

If Pierre could torment you with his subtle touches, you could do the same and call him out when he was wrong.

"Driver error caused the rear end to slide out around that turn in Japan, not the rake angle. That's got nothing to do with it. Your tires were blistered because of you taking an imperfect racing line and they were old. You miscalculated the level of traction they'd give you."

Why no one else had pointed it out was beyond you.

"So you're an engineer now?" Pierre challenges, crossing his arms. Something about the arrogance radiating from him rubbed you the wrong way. You let all the emotion of the past few days surface and add fuel to the fire.

"No, but I've learned enough to see through the bullshit drivers spin to mislead other teams."

Max murmurs your name in warning but your frustration is boiling over. He replaced you tonight, didn't even pause to consider going alone and instead choosing to take Victoria. Sure, it had been your fault that he was dateless, but that didn't give him the right to hurt you too. He knew it would destroy you to see him with anyone else even if it was completely platonic, but he did it anyway.

"Why don't you tell me where I should brake on turn ten since you're an expert all of a sudden?" Victoria lays a hand on his arm but he yanks it out of her grip. "What crack in the pavement? Or is it a mark on the barrier? Drive one lap in my car and then you can tell me how to drive."

It wasn't your analysis that had upset him. You'd done so plenty of times and he had always taken your criticism with an open mind, using it to tweak his driving style to improve his lap time or turn it into a teaching experience so you could learn. No, judging by the way his eyes are lined with silver that he fights to blink away, it's your betrayal that upsets him and rightfully so. You glance around the table but no one is willing to meet your eyes save for Max, who angles his head as if to say fight for it.

But you can't. It's monumentally easier to let Pierre win and sweep it under the rug than to address the deeper issue. "I was trying to help," you say lamely, picking at the salad in front of you.

"You don't get to do that anymore."

The venomous words hit like knives, knocking the breath out of you. Your mouth hangs open like a fish gasping for air but any reply you think up dies on your tongue.

As the music fades out and a man climbs up onto the stage, Pierre gets up and leaves. You track his progress as he weaves through tables, noting Daniel reaching for him as he passes. You flinch when the balcony door slams behind him, an astonished murmur rocking through the crowd.

"You should probably talk to him," Max whispers.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. You had no idea what you would say. 'Sorry' was insignificant and 'I love you' would be cruel when the barest of thought regarding how the media treated you made your stomach churn. 

Max pulls his phone out under the table and you think you see Charles' name on the screen. Good; someone had to make sure Pierre didn't do anything he would regret in the morning and if it wasn't you, Charles was the next best chaperone. A minute later, the Ferrari driver leaves his seat too, exiting the same way as Pierre. 

Focusing on what's said on stage proves fruitless. Try as you might, your attention is trained on the side door Pierre had disappeared through, praying he returns despite knowing it would mean more barbed words hurled at you. Neither he nor Charles return at any point during the presentation. His absence was quickly becoming a gaping black hole, swallowing up any semblance of sanity you had managed to gather in preparation for tonight.

"Try to have some fun," Max says, nudging you with an elbow. "As soon as this guy shuts up I’ll get us some more drinks and then we can eat and get out on the dance floor and forget about everything, yeah?"

You nod. You already feel the buzz of the first drink, and one or two more would push you thoroughly over the edge into blissful forgetfulness. "I don't wanna be sad anymore."

**********

He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away from you before he said something that would tear whatever hope he held of repairing what was between you to ribbons. He registers Daniel's low, "Gas, you good?" as he breezes past, but doesn't pause to answer. His sights are locked on the wide, carved oak doors that lead to fresh air.

The breath whooshes out of him when he flings open the balcony doors. They slam behind him and he winces. Chalk that up as something else for Helmut to pick him apart for on Monday.

Pierre rakes a trembling hand through his hair and rests his elbows on the railing, sucking in lungfuls of air like he'd just surfaced from a dive in the harbor. 

When you'd agreed to come to the gala with him, he had been overjoyed. You hadn't made it to the winter gala earlier this year due to a last minute exam and he had sulked the entire night. He still had the place card embossed with your name in the fishbowl by his door, the sizable container nearly overflowing with memories of you. Everything from forgotten earrings to plastic hotel key cards filled the bowl and it was a bright reminder of your adventures together. His plan had been to add another place card to the mix after tonight but after what he'd just said to you, he'd rather forget today ever happened. 

He fucking hurt. Everything just hurt, from the shirt collar scratching at his neck to the bone deep ache that had started when he laid eyes on you on those steps, arm locked with Max's. You'd stolen the words from his mouth, the jab he'd planned to toss at Max dying at the sight of you. 

He hadn't expected you to come tonight. Despite anyone's objections, he'd been fully prepared to get completely shit faced to the point that the ghost of your skin no longer haunted his fingertips and your voice no longer sang in his head. But seeing your damned face had shattered the false reality he had constructed, the one where you never broke him and left him scrambling to piece himself back together.

The universe had dealt him another low blow when he discovered Red Bull and Alpha Tauri would be at the same table and he'd be forced to endure your presence at arms length, close enough to touch but absolutely not allowed to do so. It was his own personal hell, constructed solely to punish him for whatever transgressions he'd made in his life.

And that fucking dress. 

The orange painted the aquamarine charm at the hollow of your throat in sharp relief, showing it off like he somehow still owned you. If you had arrived with him, he would have already led you back to the Civic and bunched that damned dress up past your hips to drag his favorite sounds from you with his tongue. If he could just get you alone, he's sure it wouldn't take more than a single touch to have you crashing into him and begging for more.

Seeing you with Max tonight paints an entirely different picture.

It's Max he sees tearing off the dress at the end of the night when you get back to his apartment. Max's hands slide over your hips and you laugh, walking back so you can keep your lips on his as he slams the door shut behind you. You dip your head back when he presses you to the wall, Max unfaltering as his lips and teeth trace the curve of your exposed throat and he slips the straps of the matching dress of your shoulders to let it pool at your feet. Max's name breezes past your lips on a shaky exhale as you become putty beneath his fingers.

No matter how loud Pierre calls your name, you don't hear him, instead cupping the back of the Dutchman's head and pulling him in for a heated kiss. When you do finally notice him observing from afar, agony wracking his body, all you do is grin. It feels real, even though Pierre is certain it's a crazed fever dream, his mind spinning his worst fear to life: you seeking comfort in the company of someone that wasn't him.

Pierre starts when the door squeaks open, the nightmare thankfully dissolving. Charles steps out clad head to toe in blazing Ferrari red and instantly he knows who sent him. The thought alone stokes rage in his chest, the image of your lips on Max's still fresh.

"Not as easy as you expected it to be, is it?" He asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Fuck off," Pierre growls and immediately regrets it. Beyond you, Charles was his closest friend. They had known each other for ages. It wasn’t a friendship he was willing to sacrifice just because he felt like shit. Pierre sighs and throws him an apologetic glance. "No it's not."

"Why don't you talk to her?"

"She doesn't want to fucking talk, Charles. Take one look at her, she's hanging on Max like she can't get enough of him." Pierre hangs his head in his hands, emotions shifting faster than he did on race day. "I can't go back in there and watch her choose him over me."

"You don't really believe that bullshit, do you?" Charles asks, joining him at the railing.

Not entirely, but he still struggled to understand your thought process. He thought he knew you, but you being here tonight when he had been certain you wouldn't be proved he didn't. 

"I don't know what to believe anymore. I thought it would be forever, that I'd finally found someone who didn't mind my lifestyle and accepted it for what it was, who loved me unconditionally. I thought she was my forever."

"You think she's done with you just because some assholes invaded her privacy?" Charles shakes his head. "She's loved you for a long time, years even. You haven't seen the looks she gives you, but the rest of us have. You hung the moon in her sky, Pierre. That kind of thing doesn't just get swept away by the breeze."

His shoulders curl inward in an attempt to hide the frustrated tear that escapes him. "What am I supposed to do?"

Charles shrugs. "I don't think there's a right answer to that. Try giving her some space. She didn't grow up in the spotlight like we did. It's not an easy adjustment for some people, mate. And blowing up on her when she tries to make conversation doesn't help anything," he says gently. "Let her figure it out and come to you when she's ready."

The concept of letting you go even temporarily was terrifying to him. Waiting on you to make the first move was even worse because he was setting his fate in your hands. 

"I miss her," he murmurs, turning his face to his friend.

"I know." Charles throws an arm around the taller man's shoulders and follows his gaze out over the tiered streets of Monaco's city center. "My suggestion is to throw yourself into the season. Show her you know how to fight, y'know?"

Pierre nods. He could do that. It was how he normally handled his problems anyway; let the track wick away whatever was on his mind and force him to hone in on the details surrounding him in each moment. 

"You ready to head inside?" Charles asks.

"I don't think I can go back just yet."

"Want me to hang out here with you?"

"No. I'll be back eventually."

Charles' hand falls from his shoulder after a short squeeze, the sound of a tinny voice over the speakers temporarily flooding the balcony as Charles returns to the banquet. Pierre allows himself a few more moments of reprieve before slipping back inside just as the applause starts. Rather than returning to the delicately portioned meal that sat cooling before his empty chair, he orders a drink. Whiskey on the rocks, his go to in times of crisis. He takes one sip before the reminder of you ordering it for him in London makes holding the glass of caramel liquid unbearable and he downs it in a single swallow, going back to order a beer instead.

He nurses the green bottle of Heineken as he leans against the wall until the meal is finished and the chit chat starts. You stand with Max, practically pressed against him as you snatch a flute of champagne from a passing server. You search the crowd, brows drawing together when you don't locate your quarry. Pierre had made sure that he was tucked out of the low lighting, unsure if he could survive you stealing worried glances at him all night. 

Charles winds his way over to pass off a roll he snagged from dinner, practically forcing the Frenchman to eat it before returning to his date. He nibbles at it absentmindedly, entirely too focused on you to divert an ounce of focus elsewhere.

Your dress is a glowing sun in a sea of earth tone garments, drawing his eye as you pull Max out onto the wood platform serving as the dance floor before the tables are fully cleared. The flush in your cheeks tells him you're deeper in your cups than you should be; Max didn't know your limit as well as he did. Three drinks was all you could manage before you got tipsy, five if you wanted to be completely blitzed. 

The lights dim and his hiding spot is no longer quite as good as the party lights sweep over him from time to time. Max places one hand on your hip and you place one on his shoulder and grin up at him. Judging by the fit of giggles that requires you to lean into Max for support, you were teetering dangerously on the edge of being wholly drunk. You throw your head back and laugh at whatever Max says in response to your fit, Pierre straining to hear the musical sound over the band. 

"Hey," Victoria says, breaking his concentration. "You wanna get out there?"

Pierre grimaces. He had managed to completely forget about her, too stuck in his own head. "Sorry, Vic. I don't think I'd be a very good partner tonight."

"No worries," she says, a soft, understanding smile on her lips. "I can keep myself busy."

Pierre nods his thanks, his attention immediately returning to the dance floor. Daniel and his girlfriend steal the show, both laughing as he dips and twirls her across the floor. 

Being together was so fucking easy for them, effortless in a way it wasn't for you and Pierre. They never once paid any heed to the photographers that swarmed them or the headlines printed about them, they just laughed the rumors off and carried on. No one could question their love for each other because they were vocal about it- sometimes annoyingly so- and Daniel was rarely seen in public without her at his side. They were always touching, holding hands or stealing kisses or even the near scandal of his hand blatantly on her ass at the podium a few races back, and neither of them cared.

Their love was all that mattered. They didn't care who knew it.

But you and Pierre were far too private to be like that, at least not when you were still trying to figure things out yourself. The first sign of outside pressure had you cracking, and he wouldn't stand for knowing he was the source of your pain.

He tries and fails to convince himself he isn't jealous of the way Dan's hand so easily glides under the navy blue silk of her dress to caress her back without a second thought, wishing he could do the same to you. If he's being honest, he's living vicariously through Daniel for the next few songs, pretending he was someone else observing you and himself on the dance floor instead. It almost works; the way she shudders when his lips graze her ear is strikingly similar to how you'd react. The smile she flashes up at him is agonizingly close to your own wicked grin.

When her mouth finds his, Pierre gathers his wits and turns away. Their blatant public affection flipped a switch inside him, disgust rocking through him for a split second before he pushed it away.

He was happy for them. He knew what a long, rocky road it had been for them to become lovers instead of friends, had firsthand knowledge of the stress they'd gone through before they'd finally admitted their feelings to each other, put their pride aside and got together. Pierre had been the one to offer her advice on a night not much different than this one months ago, helping repair the damage Daniel's idiotic, thoughtless words had caused. 

But Pierre had since become the person who was sickened at the sight of others in love. It reminded him that part of himself was missing and he hated it.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes from wandering back to you. You still occasionally scan the room as Max struggles to lead you through a dance. By some stroke of bad luck your gaze snags on him just as a spotlight illuminates his face and he grimaces. A slow blink is the only surprise you let show before laying your head on Max's shoulder. Jealousy spikes through him like wildfire, igniting his blood and tinging his vision with red.

He wants to march over and rip you off Max. He wants you tucked safely against him as his thumb rubs circles on the bare skin of the small of your back. He wants, more than anything, to take you to his apartment and half carry you up the stairs, having to shush you because you're giggling loud enough to wake the dead, and lay you down in his bed. He wants to help you out of that stunning dress and into a pair of his sweats and curl up against you, letting you sleep off your hangover until noon.

He'd fucked up that chance though, hadn't he? He had slipped up and driven you straight into your friend's arms, who he trusted not to make a move on you but not enough to negate the jealousy coursing through him.

In that moment, he hates you. He hates the hold you have on him, the way a simple gesture between half-drunk friends could send him into a spiral so steep he didn't recognize himself. He hates that he can't keep his eyes off you, your gravity too strong for him to resist.

Most of all, he hates that he doesn’t know how to quit you.

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max​ @sunshinesewis​ @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval 

[yuzukult]

from home 05 || jjk & reader

title: from home  pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in later chapters word count: 7.5k+ prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: i was really excited to write this chapter and i still couldn’t get myself to make it longer... :( i suck...

please let me know if you’re interested in being tagged! but also let me know if you want to be removed! taglist: @scalubera @strugglingartistno16-2 @taestannie @teresaisla @drumsofheaven @vampgguk @christiandosworld @madjammil @jungkookieyoongs @bananagguknim @shuttheelleup​ @yobroitsjayden​

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Stating that Jungkook was 'on edge' is an understatement.

His palms and armpits were sweaty from the moment he arrived at your apartment to grab you before going to meet your parents, despite the amount of layers of deodorant he has on. He's never had a real relationship before, let alone met any girl's parents, and he can't help but feel something churning in his gut. "Good to go?" You ask, and he merely nods, suddenly bashful because he feels like he is definitely not ‘good to go.’ "Alright, let's head out."

The ride on the bus to your family home is only 30 minutes away, and truthfully, he has never ridden on one before. Walking to yours, Hoseok, and his home were less than 15 minutes, the thought of taking the bus being the absolute last thing on his mind. 

Jungkook isn't exactly sure how he feels about the bus. The constant starting and stopping makes him nauseous; then the unsteadiness of having to hold the bars and handles throughout the vehicle all around seems unsafe. When there's an available seat, you sense his fear, nudging him cautiously, gesturing him to take the seat. "Sit," and granting he wants to offer it to you instead, Jungkook complies to the demand because he swears he's going to vomit. 

After getting off the public transportation that he vows to never take again, you guide Jungkook through a narrow road, he notices the neighborhood here was more concentrated than the ones in Busan; tightly knitted with homes that stacked on top of one another, side to side, and back to back. People hung their clothes on lines that stretch from apartment to apartment, piles of boxes stored on balconies, and plants resting on the borders with owners sitting idle on their porches, fixated on their hobby of people watching. 

Jungkook is known to be popular to the public, from magazines, gossip TV channels, social media posts, and the types continue on to the point that you couldn’t name them all on your own ten fingers. People don't often recognize him on the streets anymore because he's unrecognizable in regular everyday clothes but today, he learns that you're the celebrity.

The people in their homes say their greetings, making comments here and there as you entertain them with a response back, laughter dispersing in the air. There's an old lady that lounges on the steps of her home, a smile stretched so wide that her eyes disappear, all with a blanket laying across her lap, knitting away. "I haven't seen you around, I assume your mother is having a dinner party for the kids? I see you brought a friend!"

"Something along those lines," you retort indirectly, nose snug into your scarf. "You're not staying indoors? It's cold out."

"My husband keeps the heater on the home too high, I sweat like I'm going through menopause like I’m forty all over again, so I much rather be outside here. Anyways, I don't want to hold you up too long, but please come by for Christmas, I do have a sweater I knitted for you as well!"

Then there's a grandfather, another grandmother, and a couple who seems just a bit older than the two of you, and the list just goes on. Despite the whisper exchanges at the supermarket mentioning that you're intimidating, mean, and scary, it's obvious that you aren't or else you wouldn't be swooning the hearts of these strangers.

But there will always be an exception. Especially when the two of you run into a girl who looks close in age, hair dyed blonde with her lips painted fusion red. He could tell how curvy she was with how tight the winter coat hugs her frame, swaying her hips toward your direction as she eyes you both suspicious. "I see our town loser brought a friend."

"Mm," You nod, attempting your best not to amuse her, or else you’d be pouncing on her back by now. "Jungkook, this is Somin. A classmate of mine when I was in grade school." He bows in politeness, zipping up his jacket further while stepping closer to you. "Nice to meet you, Somin."

"Oh, no!" She gasps, a hand on her chest in exaggeration, completely flabbergasted by something he said. "Don't call me that. I go by Bella, since... you know, I am an American now. Being an American deserves the right name."

"You got your citizenship there?"

"No, but, I spent enough time there to know." She grins, shrugging her shoulders. Spent enough time there—you want to call out on her bullshit yet again, knowing she barely spent a month there before dropping out of school and coming back, but it'd be humiliating to mention that with Jungkook standing by, a stranger that she had only met a mere few seconds ago. "You said Jungkook... Are you perhaps, Jeon Jungkook of the Jeon Corporation?"

You furrow your brows. "How do you even know that?"

"Well, daddy invests in their stocks, of course." Fluttering her lashes, she manages to make her presence known to Jungkook as she moves in his direction. "And I saw his pretty little face in a magazine and couldn't help but admire."

Possessively, your hand slips into his pocket, intertwining your fingers together, causing warmth to creep up his neck and into his cheeks. "Well, great to see you, Somin. Jungkook and I have dinner plans with my parents."

"Whoa, wait, dinner plans?" Somin nearly exclaims, shifting aside to block your way. "Also, it's Bella, get that straight, will you? And why is Jeon Jungkook with you anyway?"

"We're dating," Jungkook interjects, clearing his throat. The words are still unfamiliar on his tongue yet he loves to flaunt them anyway. "I'm her boyfriend." He adds, tightening the grip on your hand as if Somin could see it. Her mouth drops open, unable to grasp onto the fact that you were able to land on a hunk like him. If only she knew how much knowledge of basic life skills he didn't have... actually, she might still have the same perspective. "There's no way. This is fake, right? You realize how rude she is, don't you?"

"No, it’s not fake, and well, kind of," Jungkook admits, scrunching up his nose at the thought. "But it's endearing. Wouldn't be as exciting if she wasn't always trying to banter with me, so I don't think I'd have it any other way. People mistake it for her honesty. I love a woman who can be true to herself and genuine with her words."

Just then, your mother peeks out of the front door of your childhood home, waving her arm eagerly, calling out your name. "Well, that's our cue. Thanks, Somin, for congratulating us on our new relationship. Hope you find someone yourself soon!"

"What—" Somin barely finishes her sentence before you're zooming past her, tugging Jungkook along. 

"I didn't know you had so many enemies," Jungkook says jokingly, a playful smile upon his lips. You roll your eyes before squinting them at him, squeezing his hand hard as he winces. "Now you know how little I care for them, watch out because you might become one."

Upon entering the home, Jungkook observes too many things at once. Your mother is in the kitchen, frantically maneuvering through the junk that your family has hoarded over the years, searching for whatever it is she needs for the task at hand. Your father sits comfortably on the couch, feet on the coffee table with a controller in hand, dozing off with a combination of quiet and loud snores escaping from him. As a family home, Jungkook believes it's small considering that you had mentioned previously that you had two other siblings. To think that your parents are still living in the same home they grew up in is amazing to him, knowing that his parents moved at least five times within his youth while you only stayed in one home.

"Uh, hello," He greets your mom, bowing as she places her hands onto his shoulders, shaking him in excitement. She looks almost like a replica of you, except older and much brighter. "You must be Jungkook! It's so great to meet you, I'm so happy that my daughter found someone. She's known to be a bit... cold, so knowing that you were able to warm her up means that you're definitely special!"

"You make me sound like a bad guy." You hiss before your little sister walks in, in the midst of tying her hair up into a ponytail. She resembled your mother than you did, a delighted expression that matched exactly the one your mother had on. "That's because you are, and any guy who dates you seem to run away once they find out." She halts in her steps when she notices Jungkook's face. "Oh my god, you're that model."

"Model?" Your mother reiterates, glancing back at Jungkook and then your sister. "Yeah, yeah, that model in the new edition of Elle. He was in it—he's listed as one of the 10 most desirable men under 30. No flipping way, how'd you even get him to even date you?" She pauses before pointing at Jungkook with a suspicious look on her face as his eyes widened. "Unless... you need her for something. What's she offering? It can't be her body, she's not sexy... is it her brains? You heard about her—"

"Miyoung." Your mother says sternly, interrupting your sister. "Just because Jungkook is a model, it doesn't mean that your sister is incapable of being loved by a man like that."

"Actually—"

"Oh, hey. You must be the boyfriend." A taller male enters the room, his hair messy and lids hooded from waking up barely minutes before. He's still in his pajamas, a loose grey shirt and red checkered pants, but from the outline of his shirt, Jungkook could tell this guy was built. "I'm Daehyun, also known as their big brother. It's nice to meet you." Jungkook is in awe, hand extending to shake with Daehyun's. He knows he's straight, but even as a straight guy he knows a pretty man when he sees one. 

Jungkook was starting to pick up as to why your exterior was so tough. With a younger sister who didn't have a filter to an incredibly handsome older brother, of course as the middle child you had to protect yourself. "Uh, yeah. And that's my little sister, Miyoung, who basically just attacked me for all of my insecurities within a minute. Thanks, kiddo."

"No problem, Unnie." She grins cheekily, seated on the high stool. "Did mom tell you I was back home from college for the weekend? That's why you're here?"

"Something like that," you respond ominously, hanging up your jacket along with Jungkook’s. Despite her preceding interrogation, she’s chewing on her bottom lip skittishly. "More like she forced me to come. Well, she didn't say anything yet but I felt a guilt trip coming so I just decided that I would come instead."

"Typical," Daehyun scoffs, leaning against the wall beside Miyoung. He sneaks a glimpse into the kitchen where your mother secretly runs back into, resuming in her work. "She's been desperate to get us all back together since the two of you moved out. Remind me again why I'm the only one stuck here?"

"Because you can't find a job." Miyoung and you remind him in unison and he frowns. The interaction between the three of you is crystal clear evidence that you guys are related. "Well, geez, hurt a guy, why don't you? See what I have to deal with, Jungkook?"

With some time left until dinner, the four of you crowd at your small dining table, conversing away about updates in your lives. Miyoung is in University an hour away from home, residing there for an easier commute, and Daehyun stays at home with an ambition to find a job that fits his degree. Daehyun still dates from time to time but he admits that he can’t tend to his needs because well, his mother is a room away, and oddly enough, albeit Miyoung babbles on about other things, she’s silent about her love life. Neither Miyoung and Daehyun are able to hold a steady job, he observes, and he’s starting to pick up as to why you’re so adamant about keeping both of yours. Jungkook learns that everything seems to gravitate toward one of the two phrases from your siblings when it comes to finances and they are: “Mom can handle it,” or “I’m going to let Dad do it so I don’t have to.”

From what Jungkook can gather, your siblings seemed to have different outlooks on life compared to you—they still depended on their parents whilst you were already hunting for opportunities of your own before Miyoung’s age so you didn’t have to ask for money.

“Are you still upset with me about what happened a year ago?” Miyoung finally asks you, chewing on her nails nervously. It seems to be something she’s been holding back from you, Jungkook takes a note of the way her eyes were filled with worry. “Of course,” You reply nonchalantly, leaning back against your seat with your arms crossed. “How could I not be? But you’re my sister, so I can’t actually be mad at you.”

Miyoung begins to tear up— glassy gaze with her bottom lip quivering, in spite of the previous aggressiveness she presented when you first entered the house. Before Miyoung could get another word in, your mom comes in with a guilty expression on her face. She calls your name faintly, a pout upon her lips. “Can you and Jungkook go out and grab me a couple things before dinner?”

Jungkook can’t get the question that Miyoung brings up out of his mind. In the middle of an aisle at another one of his mother’s grocery stores, your lips are pursed in thought at which brand of soy sauce would your mom like more. 

“What was Miyoung going on about?” He eventually asks, but he holds his breath in case you decide to sock him for querying you about something so personal. Strangely enough, you open up. “Miyoung fell in love with my ex. He told me they didn’t do anything but he was in love with her, so we broke up. I thought I was going to settle with him but— guess not.”

Jungkook’s eyes expand like a deer in headlights. “Your little sister is dating your ex-boyfriend? And they were in love with each other during your relationship? I would’ve given her an uppercut if I were you— are you seriously still buying the banana milk she asked for?” He’s trailing behind you as you lead him toward the drinks; your face brightening from the lights from the fridges. How could someone who lost their boyfriend to their little sister seem so put together in the first place? Was this was Hoseok was talking about that your men streak was horrendous? 

“Because she’s my little sister. At the end of the day, I want her to be happy.” Throwing a pack into the cart, Jungkook continues to push it while following you, mind still foggy and angry about the situation. Here you were, with a guy who you’d fallen in love with to the point of considering settling down, then finding out he’s been in love with your sister... he feels like this is all a fever dream and isn’t an ounce real. “You’re fucking with me right?”

You look at him with perplexity. “What do you mean?”

“This sounds crazy. You’re serious? Miyoung stole a guy from you and you’re just going to be the bigger person here and not do anything about it?”

“What am I supposed to do? Throw a tantrum? Get in the way of their relationship that is obviously blossoming in a good way?”

Jungkook pauses. Was this what it was like in another family? Or at least yours?

In comparison, he perceives that within his family, outbursts were everything. Getting attention and being recognized for any wrongdoing was immensely important— he knew that if he stole a girl away from one of his brothers, he wouldn’t make it out of the house alive. His mother, including father, would never forget it. The chattering would be heard through the grapevine amongst the housemaids, drivers, and employees of the company. Even news media outlets would dabble a bit into the family drama, adding fuel to the fire. He could never react the way you did, at least, he hopes he would, but realistically speaking, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.

Yet, with you, it seemed simple enough. Sure, your heart was broken, but how were you going to be with someone who didn’t love you back?

“If you love someone, you let them go.” You say calmly when Jungkook doesn’t respond back. “Keeping them around for your benefit doesn’t solve anything. If he wasn’t truly happy with me, I want him to be happier with someone else. And if that person so happens to be with Miyoung, what am I supposed to do?”

“But... you’re not happy.” Jungkook declares with no hesitation. He recalls the time where you felt bad for him for not having the best upbringing, and he’s starting to understand the emotion that ran through you. “I’m happier now,” You concede, placing the last ingredient your mom has on the list for you to purchase, turning your back at Jungkook. “Now that I met you.”

His heart flutters at the comments, and he’s desirous about bringing up the topic of the kiss again. Jungkook resists the urge to because he could tell from the way your silhouette begins to quicken its pace toward the checkout line that you really didn’t want to talk about it. 

When the two of you arrive back at your house, your father is jolted awake. Jungkook greets himself to the elder man who only grins brighter than the sun—something Jungkook is trying to grasp where your grumpiness comes from— and instantaneously directs him to the dinner table where your mom has a ton of side dishes laid out with six place settings for you all.

During the meal, there was nothing but exchanging stories, laughter, and elation that swarms the room. If this was what family meant, Jungkook wanted it. And the more he thinks about it, the more he wants it to be with you.

Nothing is working out for Jungkook.

This week, the pipe in his apartment burst. Something about— it’s winter and when it’s cold, the water freezes within the pipe and it expands the material, causing the pipe itself to burst, he doesn’t quite understand how the whole plumbing system works, but he knows that he can’t use the water in his apartment and has to go to yours and Hoseok’s for the week for a shower until the landlord can get it fixed.

Then, one of the deli guys called off because he apparently had the runs which meant that there was a shift change— Jungkook having to cover since whomever was working that day didn’t have the skills to do it.

Skills? Jungkook curses underneath his breath when he recites that word in his head repeatedly because he cuts his finger on the meat slicer as he winces, calling out your name. Coming to his side, you pull out the first aid kit and force him to sit down on one of the stools, tying elastic on a higher point of his finger to stop the blood from gushing out. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just... I didn’t need to be put here, right? Someone else could’ve done this, I have no idea how to use a slicer.”

“I know,” You coo, wiping some of the antiseptic on the wound as he whimpers at the sudden sting. “The new shift manager panicked, she wasn’t sure what to do since the guy with the actual food preparation license is going to be here a bit late so she put you here. Not exactly the best plan.” After bandaging him up, you wash your hands underneath the faucet as Jungkook slouches in the seat.

Nothing really was going his way.

It doesn’t even stop there. Unexpectedly, his mother calls for dinner but you’re on shift, therefore you wouldn’t be able to attend. He’s tempted to down a glass of whiskey on ice, his signature drink, but when he opens the cabinet in his kitchen, he falters at the image of your face. Would you be disappointed if you saw what he was doing? And Hoseok? What would he say?

Retracting his hand back, he immediately slams the door shut at the thought of the consequences.

Dinner is the usual at the Jeon residence. Father sits at the end of the dining table, the typical beige cloth napkin spread across on his lap while in his usual work attire, glasses rested on the tip of his nose as he’s ready to dive in with a fork and spoon in hand. Mother is settled beside him, pretty as ever and calm in comparison to the hell that’s going to let loose in a couple minutes. The unknown? Who is going to blow up this time and who will they be comparing themselves to?

The answer? Jongseok and Jungkook.

Jongseok is upset to the point that he articulates every word with spit nearly projecting from his mouth to the opposite side of the room. The vein on his temple is stressed to the point that all Jungkook can think about is when it’s going to pop. “Why are you guys always babying Jungkook? You realize the kid is fucking working at a grocery store right? And not just any grocery store, either, but it’s mother’s chain.”

“Okay?” Father retorts, forehead wrinkling in puzzlement. “Isn’t he trying to prove himself worthwhile? Didn’t he find that job himself, despite it being your mother’s chain? He’s paying for his mistakes, learning basic life skills along the way, and even landed himself a serious girlfriend who can hold his hand through these tough times, since, after all, you’re the one who suggested we cut him off. If I’m being honest, I think we should give him access to our funds again.”

A scoff of incredulity comes from Jongseok. He’s a ticking time bomb in this moment; jaw twitching in frustration with the tips of his ears heated red. Even though he’s the target yet again, Jungkook is sober now, mind clear of the fog and the ability to defend himself for once. “I don’t get it. Why are you even mad at me? I’m trying here, right? You’re the one who wanted me to get cut off so desperately— and congrats, by the way, because I did. I had to find a job myself, one I’m not a fan of, and I’m barely making it by. I lost water in my apartment this week, cut my hand on one of those deli slicers, sprained my ankle on my way to work— and that’s only a portion of my bad week. Yet here I am, sitting at the dinner table with people who claim that they love me when you’re here flipping shit at father. What do you want from me?”

“For your name to be completely off the will.” Jongseok finally says what he has been actually feeling unperturbedly, not an ounce of affection in his tone with a gaze that could pierce through Jungkook. “You have nothing to offer to this family. Why we keep you around— I don’t know. Why should you have any portion of our estate and company assets when all you’re doing right now is working at the supermarket. Tell me, Jungkook, why do you deserve to be part of any of this?”

Jungkook hates how childish he’s being, but he feels like he has the right to. The flickering colorful lights and music booming through the speakers of the club are tuning out the words his brother exclaims at his parents, and the amount of alcohol passing through his lips are numbing the pain that tears through his chest. Your face pops up in his head; your laugh, your smile, and the comfort in the underlying messages through your tough love— he wishes that all of that was enough to heal the sting in his heart and fill the hollowness that his family left.

He doesn’t remember any of these people sitting at this table with him, even though they’re hollering in excitement that “Jungkook is back again!” The girl placing a hand on his chest with his arm around her shoulder isn’t you, but he knows that if it was, you’d be so displeased at how wasted he is. Honestly, this feels wrong. Nothing sits right in his stomach and when another pretty gal with her dress hiked up to the point he could see her thong from where he’s on the couch, he’s not even attracted to her. All he could think about was you, and that scowl on your face when he tells you about this night. He could hide it from you but he’s not going to lie to himself— if he wanted to improve for the better, it meant being straightforward and authentic. Jungkook came here to let loose because the events that occurred at the estate tonight was something he wants to forget.

Turning to the girl beside him, his eyes are hooded and vision is blurry when he asks, “What’s your name again?”

When her rosy plump lips open, she says her name but the voice that comes out of it is deep and oddly familiar. “Hyeri?” Why does she say it like a question, and why is her voice so low? Just then, a hand clenches the fabric of his shirt, pulling him up and he meets the proprietor of the response. Hoseok.

Hoseok drags Jungkook’s weak and frail frame out into the alleyway behind the club, fuming to the point that smoke could’ve been whistling out of his ears. “What the fuck are you doing here? And with Hyeri, of all people! I thought I told you to stop fucking around, dude! I-I thought you knew how much she means to me. Out of the people I’ve partied with— you were my actual friend.” He clenches his jaw before Jungkook could even answer, a fist tightening in his hand. “You’re such a fuck up, Jungkook. So much for a friend.” 

Then everything blacks out.

His entire body hurts. His head is pounding, he can barely open one of his eyes, and his legs are so sore he can hardly shift on the bed— on a bed? He doesn’t have a bed. He has a futon but not a bed. Startled, he attempts to sit up against the bed frame, the other eye opening to skim through the room. 

He’s never been in your bedroom before, but the pictures of you graduating college hanging on the corkboard above your desk, concert tickets, Polaroids, and holiday cards thumbtacked beside them is all the evidence he needs to know it’s yours. Jungkook wants a closer look at them, he can scarcely make out the cute little smile on your face with your family in attendance in the picture, but when he puts weight onto his arms, he groans. Seconds later, you’re bursting through the door, out of breath and worry in your eyes. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Voice hoarse, he realizes how dry his throat is and you lean over to the bedside table to hand him the glass of water you had there originally. “Don’t move, idiot. You’re actually really torn up if you didn’t feel it with all that alcohol in your system.” Inviting yourself onto the foot of the bed, Jungkook frowns after he finishes the entire glass, much more dehydrated than he initially thought. “Trust me, it’s gone now. I feel every ounce of pain. What happened? I blacked out.”

“No shit,” you retort harshly, rolling your eyes at him. “You were drunk as hell, but you didn’t black out from that. Hoseok saw you getting all cozy with Hyeri and knocked the shit out of you. What happened, Jungkook? Why were you there in the first place? Did something happen?”

Reading the expression on your face, he fears for the worse but he doesn’t see any hint of dissatisfaction anywhere. There’s no anger, no resentment, no frustration— none of that. Just curiosity smeared across, genuinely worried about his well-being. “Are you upset that you found out I was there?”

“I was mad that Hoseok called me to come grab you, at first, so kind of, yeah. But if you’re trying to figure out if I’m disappointed in you, then no, I’m not. Old habits are hard to kill, so I understand that you’re trying to cope with something. I just want to know why you were there in the first place and why were you getting all lovey dovey with Hyeri—“

“I wasn’t getting lovey-dovey with Hyeri,” Jungkook exasperates, head falling back against the headboard, closing his eyes shut, interrupting before you lead the conversation into a lecture. “She was just some girl that sat down and claimed a spot next to me. I didn’t even know she was Hoseok’s girl.” There’s a pregnant pause in his explanation, and you don’t break off his train of thought. “I... I went because Jongseok called me useless tonight, yet again. It didn’t bother me as much as it did before, you know, before I met you, and it’s probably because I wasn’t intoxicated or the fact that I’m actually trying now and he still thinks I’m useless. He wants me out of the will.”

“He’s jealous that he’s the problematic child now, not you.” Making your way up the bed, you’re seated on top of the covers, settled adjacent to Jungkook. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re way more useful than you had been initially. I usually do the dishes at my parents’ house, mostly because I’m the middle child, but you did it for me instead. I consider that a huge accomplishment from who you were before.”

As much as he hates to admit how warm and fuzzy he feels inside just from that small achievement, it’s a resemblance of the time when he was younger and won an award for being most creative in his kindergarten class. How are you able to lift up his mood so easily by just saying a few words?

“I… is Hoseok really pissed?”

“A bit,” you reply sincerely and apologetically, even though none of this had been your fault. “He’s been in love with her even before I met him. She was all he could talk about, and I guess she finally gave him a shot, only to drop him a month later. I don’t know much about her, but I know she’s a gold digger from the stories he shared.”

Jungkooks face drops when his gaze meets yours. “Have you ever told him that?” You laugh—the melody that practically heals his wounds on the spot. “No, are you crazy? He’s blinded by love, Jeon, and any interference with that, I’m done for, probably cut out entirely from his life. Have you never been in love before?” 

He wants to say that he hasn’t, not until he met you, but you continue without expecting a response from him anyway. “Well, that’s just how he is. You could tell him a billion times that this girl isn’t for him but he’s never going to care about what I say until something actually happens.”

“I really care about Hoseok, though, and I want the best for him.” His doe-brown eyes are glossy, full of cherish for his friend. “And he cares for you too, Jeon. Just give him some time.” Quickly, Jungkook twists away, gaze avoiding yours as he clears his throat a couple times.

“Are you... okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” He says, choking up on his own words. “Hurts a little. Hoseok is strong.”

You furrow your brows. “Hey, look at me.” He doesn’t react. “Jeon,”

“Can... you give me some space?” 

Pulling your lips into a straight line, you contemplate whether or not to listen to his words or go against him. He’s been living in a home full of people yet still feeling alone, with no one to listen to his perspective on things. Maybe it’s time you change that.

Abruptly, you swing your leg over his thighs, hands cupping his cheeks just like you did that fateful night. He swore his heart stopped beating. “What are you—” There’s tears brimming in his eyes, you realize, with some escaping, trailing down his cheek. He sniffles. “You’re crying?” You’re stating the obvious, yet somehow it comes out as a question. “Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

“I’ve never had a friend love me before, a friend who actually liked me for me and only wanted to spend time with me because of who I was, not who my family was. Did I really fuck up with Hoseok?” You frown, thumb rubbing against his cheek to wipe away his tears. Truthfully, you never really knew how to react when someone fell apart like this, but with Jungkook, it felt natural, the comforting. It might’ve been the sunlight peering through the windows of your room that made everything toasty, thawing out your cold heart, or it was just Jungkook. “Maybe. But I doubt he wouldn’t give you a chance to explain yourself though. I mean, yeah, you’re bruised all over because he really beat you up... but, I’m sure this evens things out. Plus, I’m your friend and I love you too.”

He sighs, shoulders plunging with his hands creeping up to your waist unconsciously, tenderly steering you to sit on his thighs. Swallowing at the feeling of his body flattened against yours, you’re attempting to shake your head from the dirty thoughts. Jungkook feels at ease, detecting the words come from your mouth, yet he wants more. He craves for more, especially since that night in Busan and he isn’t sure he can hold himself back anymore.

“I... What happened that night in Busan?” Lifting your weight off him, he only stops you by putting down more pressure to stop your escape. Despite being in an awful lot of pain, he still manages to overpower you in strength. “Please don’t avoid this. If Jongseok didn’t come to our door that night, it would’ve led to something more. I want to know, please, what does it mean?” Cheeks burning, you stare at the wooden headboard behind him, except Jungkook knows your next steps before you do because his finger is already on your chin, guiding your view back onto him. He doesn’t need to say anything because the look he gives you says it all, tell me.

“Okay, okay,” You cringe, the idea of talking about this makes your stomach feel queasy and want to recoil in dread. “White flag. I’ll talk.”

“Enough of this white flag nonsense, just tell me.”

Belatedly gathering enough courage, you spill. Although your heart feels like it’s jumping through hoops from suspense, you realize that you can’t hold yourself back any longer anyway. “I’m... attracted to you, alright? I mean, I’m not sure how I feel about you 100% emotionally, because I still feel like we’re on different pages here, but I feel like I kind of like you? If this goes any further, I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it.”

That’s... it? Admittedly so, Jungkook was hoping for more of a confession, something along the lines of, ‘I really like you, Jungkook’ but he’d have to settle for this. This was definitely a step closer to where he wants to be. “So... you’d date me, that is. There’s still an opening somewhere.”

“I-I mean, I guess so... why?”

“Because well, I can’t stop thinking about that night, and I know that for sure that I like you.” He discloses. “And if there’s even a bit of an opening, I want a shot at it.”

You scoff. “With me? You want an actual shot with me? After spending time with my family, you want to still try to swoon me?” There’s a smile tugging on Jungkook’s lips; there’s a blackish-bluish bruise underneath his eye, the side of his lips red and blotchy and the entirety of his body is either swollen or bruised, and yet, he still endures the pain to be beaming brighter than the stars. “Of course, you met my family, right? Yours is nothing complicated in comparison... well, maybe your sister. But for once, I feel like I belong here, with you, I feel like I’m home. So, will you give me a chance to win you over?”

“Don’t you think you’re rushing this whole thing? This... you thinking you like me kind of thing.”

“Are you going to keep wasting your time?” He blurts, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “You wasted how long with some guy only for him to ditch you for your sister. What about your happiness, and what you want? None of this is fair to you. What if I could possibly give that to you, that happiness? Would you actually give me a chance?”

Sincerely, you didn’t know what the relationship with Jungkook held and what it would mean in the future. But what he asserts is right with the things he repeats in Busan about being selfish for once replays in your head again, and you finally decide to take a shot at it.

Was it the high of saying ‘yes, okay’ to Jungkook or the painkillers he took earlier because when your lips meet with his, he feels like he’s floating in mid-air. Your tongue is wet and soft when it fights with his, and when his hands on your waist pull you in closer, the bulge in his pants isn’t discreet, raging for attention, twitching against your thigh while your fingers knots through his hair tightens in response to your bottom lip suddenly tucked in between his teeth. The room feels steaming hot, especially when your hips start to move against his, emitting a groan from him as hand trails down to your ass to give it a harsh squeeze in consequence. His jeans from last night are still on and they’re straining in his crotch uncomfortably.

This is escalating so fast—just as quickly as his heart is beating in his chest, almost popping out of his chest cavity. Your natural scent is intoxicating, clouding up his mind to the point that he doesn’t think he needs the alcohol to forget the pain his family has caused him anymore, because you’re mending the pieces of him together. Your hands trail down to his neck, tugging him closer before they wander down to his biceps, giving him a gentle squeeze that releases a wince from him. 

Just as abrupt as the kiss, you pull away with a concerned and panic expression, with your mouth open in aghast. “Oh my god— I forgot you were still injured—” As you’re trying to move back, you stumble on his legs and collapse onto the floor.

“What— hey, are you okay?” He says, breathless as he leans over to check on you sprawled on the floor. Swiftly hopping back on your feet, he observes you clearly with your hair disheveled, cheeks tinted pink, and swollen lips. There’s a look of achievement on his face from the sight of a disoriented you. “Uh, um, yeah. I-I’m good,” Flustered, you push a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m... I’m going to get dinner ready for the both of us, uh, I’m going to leave you to it,” you’re awkwardly gesturing his crotch before rushing out the room and slamming the door shut.

He can only laugh at your reaction. At least his week wasn’t that bad after that kiss, right?

Jungkook stirs awake from the sound of chatter in the living room, voices familiar that he can associate them as yours and Hoseok’s. Unexpectedly, he sounds melancholic, the muffled sounds from your walls, almost to the point of whimpering mixed with your soft assuring words. He figures he should get a closer perspective of this, maybe enough where he can make out what the two of you are conversing about.

He’s not far off from shrieking when he angles his leg too far, but he bites his bottom lip in prevention of any sound, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the torment. Careful, he reiterates like a mantra in his head, chanting it until it’s engraved in his brain. When he reaches the door, he opens it slowly and just barely, to peek out and see the scene unfold before him.

“She told me that they didn’t do anything,” Hoseok exclaims, face in his hands as his elbows are resting on his knees. “That she chose to be there, and Jungkook was just lounging on the couch. That if anything, she wanted him to fuck her. Isn’t that ridiculous? How could she say that?”

You’re seated on the armrest of the loveseat, hand rubbing against Hoseok’s back soothingly. “I know, Hobi, I know. You might’ve been the right one for her, but at the end, she wasn’t the right one for you.”

“I could’ve changed,” He emphasizes, spinning his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are crimson and swollen from his tears, restlessness fills in those orbs. “I love her so much.”

“Well, and you love Jungkook. He’s in the other room, beat up and crying because he thought he lost you. He didn’t do anything wrong and you tore him to shreds! Earlier when we were making—“ You pause, clearing your throat when you realize where you were leading the conversation, Hoseok raising a brow in confusion at the action. “Earlier, I mean, I went to check on him and he was whining in pain. You really hurt him, Hoseok, and not just physically either. He’s both hurt emotionally and physically.”

He frowns. “I mean, I guess... I guess it wasn’t his fault.”

“There’s no guessing, idiot. It wasn’t. He was honestly too wasted to even realize that she was sitting beside him. Poor kid reeked of alcohol that I almost made him sleep on the porch. But he would’ve gotten robbed so... I let him stay in my room and I slept on the couch.” Jungkook glowers at the thought of you struggling to find comfort on the small sofa, wishing you would’ve chosen to sleep by him instead.

“Can I... talk to him?” Hoseok finally asks, looking down at his hands in embarrassment. His knuckles were red, contused from the one-sided fight he had with Jungkook the night before. “I fucked up, and I’m sure he thinks that he really fucked up.”

You hum for a moment before an idea pops into mind. “How about... you go out and get takeout? I’ll check on him, prep him for your appearance, and then you guys can hash it out?”

You don’t take no for an answer, pushing Hoseok out the door shortly, and a soft smile tugs on the edges of Jungkook’s lips before he lightly shuts the door and tip toes back into bed, pretending to be deep in slumber.

When you come into the room afterwards with a wet rag in hand and a bucket of warm water, his heart swells. Patting the towel against his wounds while seated at the edge of the bed, he hastily has a hand wrapped around your wrist, shocking you in the midst of your activity. “Oh— you’re awake?” He gingerly kisses the palm of your hand, heat clogging your face . “Yeah. And, thank you. For everything. I owe you a lot.”

“I—uh, maybe you’ll reciprocate this for me as well, one day?” You respond dubiously. “But... you also might not know how to do it so—“

“Are you still trying to make jabs at me after I made such a sweet comment?”

“Well, I’m just being honest, do you even know how to take care of another person?” You shoot back. “You couldn’t even get yourself back home, I had to be called and drag you back here myself, and my god, you’re heavy—“ He hauls your arm closer, dragging you along with it until your nose is inches away from his. “Can I kiss you again? I miss the way your lips feel with mine.” Even when he says the words in a volume that’s barely a whisper, his breath fans against your skin harshly, causing goosebumps to crawl up your spine.

The door pounds shut and before you can tear away from Jungkook’s hold, Hoseok is already standing in the threshold of the bedroom, mouth wide open in shock before it immediately fades into a mischievous grin. “What did I tell you, Kook? Which one was it first? You or her?”