#also part of the reason chap 6 is taking so long is because i needed to redo the opening scene multiple times

[definitelynotshouting]

Do you have any tips for starting a story? The middle and end is easy (lie) but the beginning SUCKS to write sometimes

oh gods no joke openers are one of the hardest part for me. Theres so many ways a story can start, and it makes me CRAZY because that right there is your hook, thats what convinces people to start reading!!!!! And there are so many unique ways one can start, so it ends up feeling a bit like that one reaction image of the girl being handed so so many pancakes

I think for me, what i try to ask myself when sitting down to write an opener is: "what kind of story is this?"

Because each story needs something different to accomplish its goals. A slower story might want to take its time with setting the scene, while an action-packed one might start in media res and with a bang!!! I guess if i had to give advice i would say, take the time to identify what your story is trying to say, and then look at what different openings can do for you to identify that goal.

For example; this is from my fic when the night cries, which is essentially a ghost story:

This was meant to be an introspective story, with a very gentle pace overall, so i took the time to really set the scene, build up the sense of what we're looking at before we get dropped into the fic proper. I remember my thought process for this was: how can i make this unique??? how can i make it FEEL like one of those old paintings with the beautiful yellows and summery oranges, while giving the reader a sense of whats to come?? Adding in the repetition of "it begins" was a way for me to sorta hammer that home: this is the start. This is where the story originates. And in a technical sense, it hooks your attention, with the question and immediate answer within the narration. The intention here is for the reader to want to know why this is important, and now it's answering that, but still leaving gaps for more questions.

Now compare that to, say.... lost in the dark's opening:

The overall pace of hunger au is slow, but this opener isn't-- partially because it's a rough draft, but also because what i wanted out of this scene was a sense of deep, deep urgency. We're in the middle of action; Grian is physically running while he thinks, and i wanted the reader to feel hunted and uncertain with him. Dropping everyone in with Grian at one of his most frightened, shaken points was the best way i felt i could establish that scene, and throughout it i drop hints as to what's actually going on. He's scared. He thinks he's going to hurt people. He's been on the move for a very, very long time. These are all things that are meant to pique interest and get answered later, when the reader is already invested. And i guess in that regard, its really all about timing.

But yeah!! Rambling aside, i'd say try out a few different ways of opening your fic and see what works. Think of em as thumbnails; write maybe 200 or so words at most and see if something works better than something else. I think theres this secret culture of shame among writers for not putting the perfect start down on the page the very first time you open the doc, but it's super normal to have to workshop things around to your liking!!! There's absolutely nothing wrong with writing a few different openers to see what works best for you and your story, and in fact is something i genuinely recommend. Its good practice, and essentially functions as a warm-up!!! You also get the benefit of exploring new angles in a scene, which can sometimes unlock really cool stuff for your writing

Sorry for how long this is, anon!! Hopefully you find my rambling helpful :D thank you for sending in this ask!!!

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 8

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

A/N: Slightly shorter chap, but I promise the next one makes it worth it hehehe

The sun is bright in the cloudless sky above, the occasional seagull soaring and squawking by. With sunglasses covering her eyes, Isla gets away with gazing absently at the sky, the sounds of her friends around her bleeding into the background as she basks in the warmth of the sunlight, letting out a breath. Except Isla can’t bring herself to enjoy much of anything, at the moment, because her mind has been preoccupied with her conversation with Rafe back at the country club. It settles in her stomach like a rock, unmoving and sending a bad taste to her mouth, and she knows the only way to make it better is to talk to Rafe and apologize to him.

As expected, when she and JJ showed up to the Chateau, their friends had been indignant at the sight of his black eye, demanding to know what happened. To Isla’s secret relief, JJ had told them the truth about his dad, but she did note the hint of shame that weighed his tone when he spoke. She hates that he feels as though he needs to be ashamed of the abuse he suffers from because of Luke, and more than anything, Isla hates Luke for laying a finger on JJ. Anytime he gets hurt at the hands of his dad, JJ just laughs or brushes it off, never wanting his friends to worry. But they’re family, more than they are friends, and of course Isla and the others are pissed on his behalf. There’s a reason JJ has his own room in the Chateau. JJ is a lot of things, but he will never be abandoned by his friends.

And Isla is certain if she ever lays eyes on Luke Maybank again, she’s going to call the cops on the spot.

Sighing, Isla props herself up on her elbow, grabbing the can of beer sitting on the floor of the boat and taking a long sip of the cool drink. Pope sits at the front of the boat, reading, while the others are in the water, swimming around the boat.

She lays back down, the surface warm under her back, loosening another breath as she lets her eyes fall shut. Except Pope suddenly says, “That’s the third time you’ve sighed in two minutes.”

Isla raises herself up on her elbows again, arching an eyebrow at him. “Why are you keeping track of my sighs?” she counters.

“Why is your vibe so melancholy?” Pope shoots back without hesitation, pulling a glare from Isla. He puts his book down on his lap, the brim of his cap shielding his eyes from the sun. “Seriously. You’ve been a little off since you got here. Everything good?”

Isla’s chest tightens because she knows Pope means well, but she also knows she definitely can’t tell him about why she’s been so in her head. Her lips part, trying to think of something. “I—”

“Is it because of Luke?” Pope carries on, not hearing her, but it’s the perfect excuse for Isla to latch onto—especially because it’s partially true, anyway.

“Yeah,” she nods, clearing her throat lightly as she sits up, back to the water as she leans down to grab her beer. 

Pope shakes his head, his gaze drifting towards the water. She follows his gaze to watch JJ, Kie, John B, and Sarah playing chicken in the water as Cleo both referees and records it on Sarah’s small pink digital camera. “Is it too much to ask for him to disappear out of JJ’s life for good?” Pope mutters as they watch the grin spread on JJ’s face, his hands gripping Kie’s thighs as she sits on his shoulders.

“Probably,” Isla mumbles into her next sip of beer, her gaze dropping to her phone sitting next to her.

Her fingers itch to reach for it, to send a message to Rafe. But what could she even say? I’m sorry for assuming you punched one of my best friends? She is sorry, but from the way Rafe had looked at her—with disappointment, hurt, and maybe even a little resignation—Isla has a feeling that simply words weren’t going to work. With the way her and Rafe’s relationship was rapidly changing—hell, from going to being nonexistent to whatever it is now—it never should’ve even been a thought to cross her mind. But it was, and she feels guilty about it and makes a mess of her already befuddled feelings.

One thing is for sure: Isla doesn’t want this budding change between her and Rafe to be ended before it even has the chance to begin.

“Hey—don’t stress out about it,” Pope says, cutting into her thoughts. His words have her blinking rapidly behind her sunglasses, bewildered, before quickly realizing he is, of course, talking about JJ and his dad. Because that’s what Pope thinks is bothering her. Pope shoots her a smile. “JJ’ll be alright. He’s got us, right?”

Isla smiles, somehow both forced yet not. “Right,” she agrees, and it might be the only purely honest thing she’s said in this conversation that doesn’t have a braid of lies hidden underneath.

Because, of course, her situation with Rafe isn’t one she can talk about with any of her friends. This is one problem she’s going to have to solve on her own. 

Finishing the rest of her beer, Isla gets up and walks to the other end of the boat, opposite of Pope, and steps up on the ledge. The water glitters under the afternoon sun and a second later, Isla dives in, the water blissfully cool against her skin as she is submerged.

When Isla breaks through the surface with a gasp, she wipes the water away from her face, slicking her wet hair back as she stays afloat under the warm sun. Unfortunately, the cooling dip did nothing to wash away the thoughts of Rafe and how she no doubt upset him, and Isla sighs as she floats on her back, arms treading water as she slips her eyes shut. 

All she sees is the hurt in Rafe’s eyes, and Isla knows she needs to figure out how to make things better sooner rather than later. 

*****

Isla fiddles with the thin chain of the gold bracelet around her wrist as her mom’s SUV pulls into the parking lot of the country club, tall lamps illuminating the area under the night sky. The blast of the air condition raises goosebumps on her arms, the skin exposed due to the gown she has on. It’s satin, like Kie’s, except while Kie’s is a pale lavender with spaghetti straps, Isla’s is a dusty pink with a sweetheart neckline and is off the shoulders, the thick straps hanging around her biceps, and a slit going up her right leg. And while Kie’s hair is done up and a flower crown adorns her head, Isla’s hair is styled down in waves, locks of hair threaded together in a braid to pull them back behind her head with tiny white daisies woven into them.

It had taken her and Kie a few hours to get ready for Midsummers, but while Kie had bemoaned looking like a bourgeoisie pig, Isla had quite liked what she saw when she looked in the mirror. For the first time in a few days, she actually felt good and her sister’s hatred of Midsummers wasn’t going to dampen her mood. 

Because for the past couple of days, Isla hasn’t gotten the chance to talk to Rafe, and that had fucked with her mood more than she had expected it to. Her messages to him remained unread, and she hasn’t seen him around that much, either, over the course of the last few days. The whole situation is strange because, God, only a little while ago if she had insulted Rafe, she wouldn’t necessarily care; she definitely wouldn’t lose sleep over it. But embarrassment and guilt constantly have her up in knots, unsure of what to say to Rafe other than apologize to him. Which she has, multiple times, in their messages, but he hasn’t responded. 

Isla hopes that he’s going to be at Midsummers tonight and somehow, someway, with Kie and Sarah and Pope all there, she can find a way to get Rafe alone and talk to him. Face to face, so he can’t ignore her.

The back garden area of the club is decorated beautifully for Midsummers, with string lights illuminating the place, waiters wandering around holding trays of flutes of champagne, and a live band set up on the side playing music that doesn’t overwhelm the atmosphere. The first half an hour or so is spent mingling with the other guests while Isla’s eyes keep darting around in search of Rafe yet never catching sight of him, disappointingly enough.

Even when they meet with the Camerons, it’s only Sarah, her dad, and step-mom that Isla sees, and she tries not to frown too obviously at the fact that Rafe is still missing. Holy hell, why is it so difficult to track him down when she needs to? They’ve been constantly running into each other, and the one time she needs to talk to him, he’s nowhere to be seen. Frustration mounts, but Isla pastes a smile onto her face, even when Kie grabs hers and Sarah’s arms and pulls them along to go to Pope.

The grass is soft beneath Isla’s heels as she lets her sister pull her, though that doesn’t keep her gaze from wandering, searching. “Don’t you three look snazzy,” Pope comments once they get to where he’s standing, grinning at them.

Kie’s face scrunches. “We look like sacrificial pigs,” she drolls with a roll of her eyes.

Trying to focus on the conversation, Isla bumps Kie’s hip with her own and says, “We do look snazzy, shush.”

“And it’s the one time we can drink without our parents giving us shit for it,” Sarah adds with a twinkle in her eye, grinning.

“Speaking of which. . .” Pope says, smiling as he looks over their shoulders.

Isla and the girls turn, watching JJ approach them in a classy waiter uniform that he no doubt refers to as a penguin suit, carrying a round tray of champagne flutes. Despite his own Kook related irritation, JJ grins, his bruises fading, and holds the tray out. “Drinks for the ladies?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Isla mutters, taking one of the glasses and immediately taking a long sip, only becoming aware of her friends’ surprised and amused expressions when she pulls the glass away from her lips. “What?” she asks, slightly defensive.

Pope arches an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Isla says with a laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as forced as it feels. “Just here to enjoy the night.”

“This feels so pretentious,” Kie remarks, eyeing the glass she holds in her hand.

Isla rolls her eyes. “Just enjoy the free alcohol, Kie,” she says, her patience wearing thin as she takes another sip.

Fortunately, her sister merely shrugs and drinks as prompted. The group of them stand and chat for a few minutes, before JJ has to get back to work and Pope’s dad returns and they need to work on the oysters. Isla sticks with Kie and Sarah for the most part, more often than not tuning out of their conversation as she searches for Rafe. She can’t help it, and it’s driving her crazy. Part of her wonders if Rafe is pointedly ignoring her, which she wouldn’t blame him for. But then the other part tells herself she’s likely giving herself too much significance in Rafe’s life. Maybe the reason he hasn’t talked to her is because he doesn’t want to; maybe he already grew bored of whatever the hell had been brewing between them and moved on.

Admittedly, the thought of that makes a knot form in the middle of Isla’s chest, her grip on her emptying champagne glass tightening in response. A pit of dread even forms in the bottom of her stomach, like she is on the verge of losing something that’s slipping through her fingers too quickly. There’s a nagging voice in the back of Isla’s mind telling her to let it go, that cutting off whatever had been happening between her and Rafe at the legs, before it even had a chance to begin, is the right call. Less complicated when it comes to her friends. 

And yet, the idea of it leaves a bitter taste in Isla’s mouth.

As she finishes off her champagne, her gaze catches on some people walking out onto the porch across the dancefloor, and the breath hitches in Isla’s throat when she finally spots Rafe. He’s dressed in a summery, beige suit with a white button down underneath, a no doubt expensive watch on his wrist as he chats with Topper and Kelce. Rafe leans one elbow against the porch railing, holding a glass, and it’s as though in that moment, he can feel Isla’s gaze on him, because his head turns just so until their eyes lock across the way.

Isla’s heart launches itself to her throat as she watches him watch her and even from where she stands, she sees that mask of his break. The indifference cracks for a split second, but her sharp eyes catch it, the way his gaze softens and lips part before he forces himself to school his features. But Isla caught it. Even from where she stands, with all of these people in between them, she caught it, because it’s impossible to look away from him. And she has been thinking about him too much, these last few days, to not take note of every single detail about him.

She watches as he opens his mouth, free hand reaching up to massage his jaw as he cuts his gaze away from her, but Isla can see the sudden rigidness of his shoulders. Seeing her is having some kind of effect on him, possibly the same effect seeing him is having on her, and she knows that without a doubt, she is going to find some way to get them alone so she can talk to him.

Because there is a truth that dances on the tip of her tongue, and the first person Isla wants to admit it to is Rafe, not even herself. He is, after all, the first one who should hear it.

Isla knows it’s not going to be easy to try and find a moment alone with him—not with her friends, and his, around. She’ll need to find the right opportunity, and hope that he isn’t intent on avoiding her.

[staytheword]

clear skies

clear skies — one shot sequel of falling rain [ masterlist ] 

— bang chan x female reader. also features han jisung, lee know, yeji (itzy), and san (ateez).

— non idol au. friends to lovers. mutual pining, idiots in love, fluff, angst, drinking, explicit language, explicit smut, a lot of discussion around break-ups, closure, healing, etc. smut warnings (spoilers) — oral sex (m receiving), protected sex, some dirty talk, no major warnings.

— word count: 6.8k

— !! please consider reading falling rain before reading this, as it is a direct sequel and I fear it will make much less sense without the first part :') ♡

You and Chan are friends. Maybe a little more than that, after your night together. You find yourself healing, really healing, until your ex makes you question everything.

You knock on the door of apartment 6, nervously biting your lip. A few seconds later, it opens on Jisung. He looks like he just got out of bed although it’s early afternoon, which wouldn’t be surprising considering what you know of his sleeping schedule. 

“Y/N,” he smiles. “We don’t often see you around here. What’s up?” 

You show him the bag you’re holding. 

“Chan told me he was sick. I brought him some stuff.” 

Jisung gives you a long look but he opens the door so you can come in. You enter the apartment, taking a curious look around. You’ve only been here for parties, and nothing looks the same in the dark. In the direct sunlight of the afternoon, and without all the people, it feels like a whole different place. 

“Yeah, he told me he caught a cold,” Jisung says, hiding a yawn behind his hand. “No idea how.” 

“It’s been raining pretty bad these days,” you shrug. 

Jisung nods, still looking at you suspiciously. You do your best not to act differently than you do, hoping your friend isn’t as good at reading you as Chan is. Because you have no idea if Jisung knows about what happened. You haven’t told anyone yet, although you’re planning to spill everything to Yeji soon. You’re not sure how Chan feels about the other night - you’re not sure how you feel about the other night. 

But when he told you he was sick - because of you and the scene you made under the rain - you couldn’t just stay home. You had to make it up to him. So you got him soup from his favorite place, as well as a few snacks. 

“He’s in his room,” Jisung says eventually. 

“Thanks, Ji.”

“Sure. I’ll be here if you need me.” 

He gestures towards the couch, and you give him a smile. As you walk away, you see him hit the controller, and the show on the television starts playing again - although from what you can feel on your back, he’s staring at you. 

You knock on Chan’s door and a tired voice tells you to come in. 

He’s laying on his bed, half sitting up, playing on his Switch. His hair is a mess, and so is his room, but you don’t mind. All you see are his red nose, his chapped lips, the hazy look in his eyes. 

“Oh, Chan,” you sigh, and he chuckles. 

“I look that bad, yeah?”

His nasal voice clearly shows he’s sick, and you pout, closing the door behind you. 

“You didn’t have to come all the way here,” he says.

“I wanted to. I brought you a few things.” 

You sit on the bed next to him, opening the bag and taking out what you know are his favorite snacks, placing them on the desk close by. 

“And also this,” you tell him, removing the bowl of soup. 

As he recognizes the restaurant name on the lid, his eyes light up. One of his favorites. 

“Ohh. Ohhh.” 

“Thought that might make you feel better. Eat, while it’s still warm.” 

He giggles excitedly, his Switch abandoned next to him, and he sits upright, carefully taking the bowl in his hands. You just watch him as he takes his first spoonful, closing his eyes to savor the taste. 

“I think I’m cured,” he says with a laugh.

You smile affectionately, relieved to see he’s not too sick to eat. As your eyes linger on his face, you realize you can’t really stay. You have no reason to, after all. You look down at your hands. 

“Ji was highly suspicious of my visit,” you tell Chan. 

He frowns. “What did he say?” 

“Nothing,” you sigh. “But it was obvious.” 

“Well…” Chan swallows. “I didn’t tell him, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

You nod, but you’re not sure what to answer. You don’t know if you’re happy about that or not. 

“I’ve been too sick, didn’t feel right,” he explains, keeping his eyes on you. Despite their glassiness, you read them well. “Should I have?” 

“No,” you answer. “I mean - not if you didn’t want to. Of course not.” 

“Did you tell anyone?”

“No,” you say, looking up at him. “I want to tell Yeji, though. Is that okay?” 

He smiles. 

“Of course. I don’t want you to feel like it has to be a secret.” 

You sigh in relief. “I agree. It’s just… Some might not understand.” 

“We don’t have to tell everyone,” Chan shrugs. “We’re still friends, right? That doesn’t change.” 

You blink. 

Just you and me.

Just you and me tonight. 

“We are,” you smile, and you believe it. 

That night, Chan made you feel seen like you never had before. A part of you wonders if it means you have fallen in love. But as you sit next to him, looking at him eating his soup so excitedly, you realize it’s not. What you shared is special - and you told each other things that did matter, and that did change your relationship. But you are still yourselves. You don’t want to bury yourself in doubt. Not now. There are still things you need to figure out about yourself and what you want. 

You need to find yourself first so you can honor him. 

So you can love him like he should be loved. 

Maybe Chan can fall in love with you.

Maybe you can fall in love with him. 

For now, you are friends. 

A little more than that. 

But it’s still enough.

“So, yeah. We had sex.” 

Yeji gasps, putting a hand over her mouth. Despite the gesture, she does not seem that surprised, and you arch an eyebrow at her. 

“I mean -” she stammers. “It’s not that I’m not surprised, I’m just - well -” 

You let out a chuckle. “C’mon, spit it out.” 

She sighs. “I guess I just expected it to happen some day.” 

You take your mug in your hand, lifting it to your lips. The cafe is quiet tonight - it’s a weeknight, so the only people there are students catching up on studying and people talking casually. You adore this place - it’s close to your apartment, the coffee is good, and it’s never too busy. Yeji and you regularly meet up there for a pastry or a latte, as you are tonight. 

“So you knew, huh?” 

“Knew what?” 

“That he had a crush on me.” 

She shakes her head as you take a sip from your latte. Her hair is tied into a long braid today, and although she looks tired from work, she still manages to look breathtaking. That’s just Yeji. 

“No. I didn’t - not for sure,” she smiles. “I just had a feeling. Neither of you are really good at hiding how you feel.” 

You sigh, putting down the mug. “I guess you’re right about that.” 

She gives you a sweet smile. 

“So how was it?” 

“The sex?” When she nods, your smile can’t help but widen. “It was good. Really good.” 

“Really good, huh?” she giggles.

“Really good.” 

You keep laughing, and you indulge her when she asks for details. You have nothing to hide, anyway - you know you need to open yourself up to people, and with Yeji it’s always been easy and mutual. That’s something you learned, sometimes at a bitter cost. It’s all right to give to people, as long as they do the same. Throwing pieces of you into the void - that’s how you lose yourself. 

“I’m so glad, Y/N,” she says, putting her hand on yours. “You look good.” 

“I feel a little better. And it’s not even just Chan, you know. I think… In a way, I think I’m relieved, actually. About San.” 

Yeji gives you the time to measure the words on your tongue. You think about your ex, the one who loved you, the one who hurt you, and all the things in between.

“He has someone. He’s moved on. I can too. To see him heal - it helps me.” 

You’re not even lying. 

It’s not that everything is perfect again - of course it isn’t. But you’re putting the pieces of yourself back together, slowly. Learning to love again - yourself and others. 

It’s been about a week since Chan spent the night at your place. Since then, you’ve seen each other a few times, sometimes just the two of you, sometimes with others. When he recovered from his cold you went for brunch. To see a movie. You spent a night at the boys’ apartment to play board games. 

You haven’t slept together again. A part of you wants to, but you’re not interested in forcing it. The only time you almost did was back at his place, but Jisung and Minho had both been there, yelling nonsense in the living room. Not the most romantic background music. So you just held each other tight, exchanged a few kisses. Chan played with your hair. You put your hand on his chest to feel him breathe. 

You and Yeji talk some more, and then you decide to head back home, as you’re both working early the next day. After a hug, you give her a smile. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow night? At the party?” 

She gives you a surprised look. “You’re coming?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Honey…” She frowns. “You know San and his girlfriend will be there, right?” 

You nod. 

“I know. That’s all right.” 

She smiles, puts a hand against your cheek. “Healing looks good on you.” 

It’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever told you.

Healing is a complicated thing. 

Healing takes time, and healing is never a straight line. 

One moment you’ll feel you can take anything, and the next the ground shifts from under you and you collapse. 

You thought you’d be strong enough. 

You’re not. 

“I miss you,” San says, not even able to look at you. “I know it’s a shitty thing to say, I know I’ve been a dick, but… it’s the truth.” 

You did not expect this. 

You did not expect this at all.

You thought San was over you. But now, here he is, looking tired and anxious, telling you he’s broken up with his girlfriend because something didn’t feel right. Because he missed something. You. 

“I…” you stammer. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he breathes out. He’s tipsy, you know him well enough for that. His body sways a little as he shrugs. “I just wanted you to know.” 

“O-okay.” 

And just like that, like he hasn’t just dropped a rock in your throat, like he hasn’t just set off a bomb in your chest, he walks away. You stare at the back of his head, your fingers squeezing the bottle of beer in your hand. You’re glad it’s made of thicker glass, that it won’t crush under the pressure. Still, it feels brittle. 

You arrived at the party more than an hour ago, and you’ve been having a good time. You played a drinking game of cards, danced with Jeongin and Lily, flirted with Chan. The two of you are not together - but you’re not not together either. The night was going so well you barely noticed that San was not accompanied like he was supposed to be. He avoided you up until minutes ago, asking you if he could talk. Now you stand in the backyard, looking up at the night sky and wondering how your legs will be able to carry you home. 

You wish it would start raining. That would make more sense than the tears on your cheeks. 

You frown, shaking your head. You’ve been doing so well. Your heart was repairing itself, helped by Chan’s smile, by the strength you found in yourself through his eyes. After so much time in a relationship, you are actually enjoying some time on your own, even if a part of you belongs to Chan. He’s respecting the distance you need, never too close but never far. You like Chan. A lot. 

San misses you. 

You miss him too. 

Do you want him back? 

It would be so simple to fall back into it. Like letting your body float in safe waters, the current sweeping you away. Easing back into the comfort you had built together. But you can’t. You don’t love San anymore. He doesn’t love you anymore either. He’s just confused. He’s processing things in a different order from you. 

Right? 

Still, it would be so easy. 

“Y/N?” 

You turn around at the sound of Chan’s voice. It feels like a familiar song in the middle of a cacophony. He brings you back to that night, your limbs entangled on the couch, his chest moving up and down as he slept next to you. Being with Chan feels easy too, but it is more than that - it feels right. 

It also feels terrifying.

“Are you crying?” he frowns. 

You shake your head. “A little. It’s okay. It’s nothing bad.” 

“I just saw San walk away,” Chan says tensely. 

You can feel him getting angry, so you put a hand on his arm, trying to gather the right words. 

Chan sighs. “What did he say to you?” 

“Chan, please,” you breathe out. “Calm down.” 

“I just don’t want him to hurt you again -” 

“He misses me,” you interrupt him, meeting his gaze. Chan stops and looks at you. You can’t quite read his expression. “That’s what he told me. That he missed me. He broke up with the girl because of it.” 

Chan pushes his fingers against his temple. “That fucking asshole…” 

“Chan -” 

“No, Y/N.” It’s his time to interrupt you and you freeze on the spot. “I know what you will say, but that still doesn’t make it okay. He shouldn’t put this burden on you. Whatever his process is, it’s not fair to pull you in and out of it like he is.” 

Your mouth is dry. “I…” You don't even know what you want to say. 

“Please,” Chan says, taking your hand in his. The warmth it spreads on your fingers makes you realize how cold you are. “Don’t let him in.” 

His eyes are dark oceans you want to fall into. He looks so handsome, with his hair dancing in the breeze, his sharp jaw that you want to kiss. Those lips that were everywhere on you that night. Those fingers that held you tight. 

The pang of longing that passes through you makes you dizzy and you take a step back, removing your hand from his. You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. This is a lot. This is too much. Your lungs burn and your heart is being torn apart.

What you want. What you need. What you can’t help but miss. 

“Y/N?” Chan asks so delicately it feels like a caress. 

You shake your head, holding a palm up, not even able to look at him. “I- I’m sorry. This is just a lot. I… I need to think, I…”  

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he says. “I’ll give you space. Do you want me to get Yeji, or anyone else?” 

You nod. “Yeji’s good.” 

“Ok. Ok. Stay there.” 

You let Chan walk away, and once you can’t hear his footsteps, you let your knees buckle. You collapse on the grass, bringing your legs against your body, the bottle of beer hanging pathetically from your fingers. 

You don’t know anything anymore. 

You’re mad. Sad. Confused. Torn. 

You look up at the sky, empty of clouds. There’s just nothingness there.

Why can’t it rain for once?

It’s been a few days since the party. Or you think it has. Time has been tricky, lately, twisting and turning in ways you didn’t expect it too. Days feel like seconds. Hours feel like weeks. 

Your head is laying on Yeji’s lap. She’s braiding it, the both of you watching your favorite show. You’ve seen these episodes a dozen times but you don’t care. It’s just so there’s noise instead of the deafening silence. Something to look at instead of the abysmal nothingness. Yeji made you sure you ate something. 

You’re going backwards.

A descent.

A regression.

Yeji calls it a bump in the road, but it doesn’t feel like a bump. It feels like a black hole sucking you in, tearing you apart at the seams. 

Chan is on your mind. His kindness, his eyes that understand you better than anyone does. San is on your mind. His comforting arms, his familiarity. You don’t know what to do. You feel stuck. You want to listen to your heart, but it has remained silent, like it wants you to make the decision. 

For now you have shut yourself off. You don’t answer anyone, except for Yeji. But then again, she forced the lock, sat you down and said, cry. Scream. Punch someone. I don’t care, but do something. You did all of those things. You cried, you screamed, and, well - you punched your pillow. 

Everything felt right. Now everything feels blurry. 

It was so hard to get yourself back on track, and now that you’ve derailed, you feel worse than before. It’s so stupid, too. They’re just boys. 

That’s what Yeji told you - and she’s terribly right. You can’t allow yourself to feel like this for boys. And yet you can’t shake the lethargy. So you decide to give yourself the time. Figure things out.

You owe it to the both of them.

Chan. San. 

Whatever the truth is, they deserve it. 

Yeji’s phone vibrates on the table in front of you and you sit up to let her answer it. Your eyes unconsciously fall on the screen, and you see Chan’s name. Your chest tightens and you look away. Yeji squeezes your hand.

“What’s up, Chan?” she answers. 

You can discern his voice, not what he says, and you try not to stare. Instead you grab the mug of tea you’ve barely touched and take a sip. It’s lukewarm. 

“I’m good,” Yeji says. “Just watching tv.” She pauses. “Y/N?” 

Your heart drops at the bottom of your stomach and you look up at your friend. You shake your head. 

“Yeah, she’s here,” Yeji continues. “But she’s asleep.” You smile faintly at her as a thank you. “Yeah, I’ll tell her you called. Okay. See you soon.” 

She hangs up, putting down the phone, and you wince. “Sorry you had to lie because of me.” 

“That’s okay, honey. I just…” She hesitates, but you nod, encouraging her to speak her mind. You need her to. “You know you can talk to Chan, right? He’s your friend, first and foremost. Whatever happened between you, whatever the feelings… He’ll listen. He cares.”

“I know,” you say faintly, playing with the blanket on your knees. “I just don’t even know what I would say. And if I see him… I’ll just get more confused.” 

Because Chan is a dream guy - handsome and kind, with the cutest smile. Because Chan will remind you of what happened that night, of the way he held you, of the way he made you shiver. 

Yeji smiles softly. “I understand. I just wanted to remind you.” 

“Thank you. I’ll try to text him later. I have to answer San, too, he messaged me like two days ago…” 

A sudden surge of anxiety overtakes you, and you breathe out. Yeji puts a hand on your leg. “Breathe, Y/N. One thing at a time.” 

“A part of me just wants to say, fuck it, I’m just going to be single, you know?” you chuckle, feeling the tears at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t need anyone. I’ll give myself time to heal. But when I tell myself that, then… I feel so empty. Like I’m making a terrible mistake.” 

You shrug. 

“The worst part is, I already know what I want,” you whisper. Chan. Chan. Chan. “But the past won’t let me go.” 

“The past doesn’t control you,” Yeji breathes, giving you a smile. “You control what hold it has on you. You have to let it go.” 

You wipe the tears from your eyes. “But what if letting San go is a mistake?”

“I think you already know the answer to that question,” Yeji tells you. “Missing someone doesn’t mean you still love them, or that you’re right for each other. It just means you care. It just means what you had was real - and moving on from it doesn’t take that away.” 

You breathe in slowly, giving your friend a tight hug. 

The skies will clear. 

And even if they don’t, the rain really isn’t that bad. 

Rain is cold, rain is heavy. But rain is a thing of beauty.

You hear the door close behind you and you pause. The relief is spreading through your body. The knots, untangled. The wounds, soothed. This will scar - but it will heal. It already is. 

A part of you can’t help it - you turn around to glance at the closed door. Apartment 2B. You spent so much time there, loving San, being loved by him. It felt right to return there to have the conversation you needed to have. Both of you, sober, calm, ready. I miss you too, you told him. But we don’t love each other anymore, and we have to let each other go. 

I know, San nodded. Or I’ll learn to know. He smiled then. You were always the strongest of us. 

You’re not sure it’s true, but you’ll accept it. Strength is something you have, strength is something you grow. It’s not constant. It’s not even logical. Even strength can break. Even strength can be weak. 

You leave the apartment building. Poetically, the rain from earlier has ceased. It still hangs in the air, hazy, leaving the streets wet. As you walk, you watch droplets fall from the tree leaves, distorted visions of the city and sky in puddles. Your umbrella is useless in your hand, still dripping from earlier. You spin it a little in your hands, making the water trapped in it dance. 

You know exactly what you will do next. 

Your next destination is not exactly close but you enjoy the long walk. The sky has gotten dark, your cheeks are a little red, and your heart is spinning. But you know this is what you have to do. You know it’s what you want to do. 

Once again, it’s Jisung that answers the door. When he sees you, he smiles playfully. 

“You’re around here a lot these days, Y/N. I wonder why.” 

You shake your head with an amused smile, refusing to encourage him. “And you’re too curious for your own good, Han Jisung. Is -” 

“Chan here?” he finishes, his grin widening. “Come in.” 

You nudge him by the elbow as he closes the door behind you, following him to the living room. You find Chan there with Minho, holding controllers, the coffee table covered in beer bottles and snacks. Jisung sits back down, pushing Chan’s hoodie back to reveal a chaos of brown curls. 

“It’s for you, lover boy.” 

Minho gives you a wave as he drinks a sip of beer, his eyes not leaving the television screen. Chan, however, looks up at you with wide eyes.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” 

You fidget a little, pulling on the sleeves of your jacket. “I wanted to talk to you. Do you have time?” 

“Y-yeah, of course…” Chan answers. He puts down the controller, standing up to meet you. Behind him, Jisung follows your conversation, not trying to be subtle in the slightest. “Is everything okay?” Chan adds in a whisper. 

You nod and smile reassuringly. “Yeah. Do you want to take a walk, maybe?” You are a bit tired from walking all the way here, but you’re not sure you want to do this inside. 

“Isn’t it raining?” Chan frowns. 

“It’s stopped,” you say, and Chan smiles. 

“Let me get my shoes.” 

You tell him to take his time, but Chan only heads towards the door and slips on his sneakers. You wave at Jisung and Minho, who you realize are now both staring at you suspiciously. 

“Ignore them,” Chan chuckles, putting a hand on your shoulder to guide you outside the door. 

The wind has picked up a little but it’s still not cold. You keep your hands in the pockets of your jacket, walking alongside Chan, who looks up at the now pitch black sky. There’s not much to see up there except the deep darkness - but perhaps Chan sees something you don’t. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

You walk for a minute or two, heading away from the busy street into a nearby residential neighborhood. It’s packed with huge houses, large lawns, neatly kept trees looming over your heads. Once in a while you feel a drop of rain fall on your head or your shoulders, but you don’t mind. 

“I’m just coming back from San’s,” you tell Chan, breaking the silence. You know he was waiting for you to speak first - giving you the time to find your words. 

He glances at you, looking concerned. “Oh?” 

“I felt we needed to have a conversation,” you nod. “I did a lot of thinking since the party and I just wanted him to know how I felt.” 

Chan breathes out. “How did it go?” 

“Good,” you smile. “I told him I missed him too.” You give Chan a look, but he’s staring ahead of him, lips closed, his hands behind his back. “But that it is over between him and me.”

Chan looks at you then. Is that pride in his eyes? 

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” you breathe. “That night at the party. And recently, not answering your calls. I just… I really needed to think.” 

“I know, love,” he says. The nickname tugs at your heart. You can’t ever get tired of hearing him call you that. “I never held it against you.” 

“And then I didn’t really talk to you, and -” 

“You needed to figure things out,” Chan softly interrupts. “You don’t have to apologize for that. You shouldn’t, even.” 

“But still. Things were good between us, and I’m scared I ruined everything,” you finally admit with a shrug, looking down at your feet.

Chan stops, taking you gently by the arm so you face him. He’s smiling, full lips curved upwards, his black clothes looking so cozy you wish you could cuddle up against him. 

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he frowns. “I mean, I don’t want to assume that there was anything between us, or that you have to -” 

“I like you.” It’s your turn to interrupt him. “I like you a lot, Chan.” 

He looks at you, and you let yourself get lost in his eyes. 

“You make me feel safe, and I have fun with you, and you get me. And if it’s something you want too, then I’d like to see where this could get us.” 

It feels good to let it off your chest - but it’s also much easier than you would have thought. You really mean it, you realize. Every word. Exploring a future with Chan is something you want, something your heart feels at peace about. 

You realize he still hasn’t spoken - but you’re not defeated by it. You just keep looking at him, smiling gently. 

“Please don’t feel like you have to answer now,” you whisper. 

He shakes his head and speaks in a whisper. “I’m just taking it in.” 

“What?” 

“You, telling me you like me back.” 

You blink in slight disbelief, letting out a laugh. You push your index against his chest. “You’re such a romantic, Bang Chan.” 

“Yeah, I am,” he laughs wholeheartedly, bringing you into his arms. You settle your cheek against his chest, your arms around him. He places a kiss on your hair, nodding to himself. “You better get used to it.” 

You stay like this for a minute, just breathing each other in, the wind swaying around you. You’re in Chan’s arms. He breathes alongside you. Your heart feels calm. Your heart feels free. 

“You know what I feel about you. It hasn’t changed. So can I take you on a real date now?” he asks, his fingers sliding in your hair, sending shivers through your entire body. 

You nod. “On one condition.” 

He leans back, finding your eyes. “Hm?” 

“Kiss me,” you breathe. 

He just grins, light shining in his eyes. His lips meet yours, delicately and lovingly, as if he wants to savor every second. You can believe it, because it’s the same for you. It’s a slow kiss, the kind that lasts for a lifetime, the kind you can’t ever forget. He tastes like trust, like the softest light, like rain that falls exactly at the right time.

You kiss for a long time, until your lips feel swollen, until your mouth is dry. Chan pushes his forehead against yours, stroking your cheek.

“How about we go home and get you warm?” 

You look up at him, your eyes twinkling in adoration. “Will you keep holding me?” 

He smiles. “I’ll never let go.”

Chan and you find the front door locked. He unlocks it, stepping inside an empty apartment. The bottles and snacks are still on the table, but the television is turned off and Jisung and Minho are nowhere to be seen. 

You remove your shoes, following Chan in the kitchen, where you find a note scribbled onto an old take out receipt. Out for drinks. Enjoy the empty apartment. 

Chan chuckles. “I guess they know.” 

You smile, wrapping your arms around Chan from behind. “I think Ji’s had his suspicions since I brought you soup.” 

“That was good soup.” 

He turns around, placing his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. Your hips almost meet his, making you feel a little dizzy. You place your palms against his chest, resisting the urge to slide them under his hoodie to feel his skin. 

“So…” you smile. 

“So,” he repeats with a chuckle. “What do you want to do?”  

You bite your lip, blushing slightly. 

“You want to… enjoy the empty apartment?” Chan suggests. You like his confidence, although you notice that his ears are bright red. 

You nod, stealing him a kiss. “I just want you.” 

He hums against your lips, his fingers digging into your skin. You take another step forward, decidedly pushing your hips on his, wrapping your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. Chan tilts his head, his mouth seeking yours, and you can feel him parting your lips slowly. He doesn’t want to insist, but you let him, your tongue meeting his. Instinctively you arch your back, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. 

“I’ve been craving you so much,” Chan whispers. “I just want to feel you around me again.” 

You clench at his words, letting out a small moan that gets lost in his mouth. “Fuck, Chan…” 

“I want to make you feel good,” he breathes, kissing you again, and you can feel his length harden against your stomach. “Will you let me, love?” 

“Please touch me, Chan, I missed you so much…”

Just like that, he picks you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He starts to walk, never ceasing to kiss you, as he brings you to his bedroom. Once you’re there, he pushes the door closed, and lays you down carefully on the mattress. He’s warm, his muscular thighs pushing yours apart so he can settle between them. Leaning down to kiss you again, your head falling against the pillow, he grinds his crotch against you - and you can feel your walls throb. 

There are too many layers of clothing to your liking, so you tug at his hoodie and Chan understands the signal. He removes it and his t-shirt in one movement, letting you touch his chest freely. His jeans hang low on his waist, so you trace his abdominal muscles, let your fingers wander on his back. 

Your clothes are next, Chan kissing you all the while he removes them. Soon you are naked under him, one of Chan’s hands holding your breasts, brushing the back of his thumb on the nipple. You shudder, Chan leaning down to swirl his tongue around it, sending waves of pleasure through you.

But there’s something you want. Something that you’ve wanted to do, something you’ve been thinking about. “Chan -” 

“Yes, love?” he whispers, coming back to kiss your neck, his tongue leaving wet trails on your skin. 

“I want to taste you,” you breathe, and he looks up to meet your eyes. You stroke his hair, feeling a little shy. “Please, I can’t stop thinking about it…” 

Chan closes his eyes. “Fuck, I almost came just hearing you say that.” 

You both chuckle, sharing a feverish kiss. You sit up, moving positions so that Chan is the one laying down under you. His eyes are darker than ever, his lips swollen from the kissing. You can’t get enough of him, feeling almost drunk as you leave a trail of kisses down his chest, unbuttoning his shorts and lowering them. His cock bounces free, already hard, but you remove his clothes completely before you come back to take it in your hand. Chan sits up a little, leaning against his pillows, and he’s able to look at you. Gently, you palm his length, moving your hand up and down. Your thumb rolls around his tip, spreading the pre-cum there, and Chan grunts at your gesture. 

His fingers hold your hair back, his eyes never leaving your face as you slowly jerk him off, loving the way his cock pulsates around your fingers. In fact you are clenching around nothing, aching for pressure. But for now you want to take care of him - you want to show him just how much he means to you, how eager you are for him. 

You flick your tongue at the tip of his cock and Chan lets out a low groan, pushing his head back into the pillows. You smile softly, wrapping your lips around him, his moans dancing to your ears as you start to bob your head up and down. You suck him slow, teasing him with your tongue at the same time, attentive to the sounds he makes. Sometimes he twitches a little, or his fingers will slightly pull at your hair, and you know you’re doing something good. 

Your fingers leave his base when you try to take him as deep as you can in your mouth, feeling your lips stretch, saliva and pre-cum coating his cock. 

“F-fuck - Y/N - fuck, that feels good…” 

A single hum escapes your lips, but you do not stop blowing him, perhaps taking too much pleasure at feeling him lose composure. His hips buck, and you do not stop. You join the movement of your hand twisting around his base with your mouth, and Chan’s grip on your hair tightens.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck - ah, don’t - ah, Y/N, stop,” he whimpers, and you move your head back, looking up at him with wide eyes. Chan takes a second to breathe out, and you feel his cock throbbing in your hand. “I’m going to come if you keep going,” he chuckles. “I want this to last.” 

You smile, crawling back up on the bed for a kiss, straddling him. “Was it good?” 

“So good, love,” he grins, kissing you. “So, so good.” 

You settle your drenched core against his cock, rubbing it up and down the length, moaning in response. 

“You’re so wet,” he whispers against your ear, licking it gently. You whimper, desperate for touch. “Can I fuck you now, love?” 

“Yes, please,” you moan. 

Chan is quick to grab a condom from his bedside table, wrapping it around his length before he guides it against your entrance. Slowly, you push yourself down, his cock stretching you. You close your eyes at the feeling, the pleasure making you dizzy. Chan pulls your upper body closer to his, playing with your breasts as he starts to thrusts his pelvis, entering you deeper each time. You roll your hips, finding a rhythm quickly. 

It feels so good to have him close, so good to let yourself go. Your heavy breathing mixes with his, touching his chest as he fucks you, and you’re both lost in the moment, not exchanging a word. He enters you deeply, his thrusts both gentle and passionate. It is not quick, but steady, every movement measured. 

You fuck like that for a while, just breathing and moving with each other, until your pleasure starts to ramp up. You are clenching around Chan, who grunts in your ear, and he holds your waist, anchoring himself there to accelerate his thrusts. He’s fucking you harder, and you cry out his name as you come. He follows you quickly in his release, breathing your name, making you feel whole like only he can. 

Both you and Chan breathe out, bodies slightly swaying like in a storm, holding each other tight. His arms around you, your fingers on his skin. 

Lifelines. 

After a little while he kisses your neck, your cheek, your lips. You sigh because you don’t want to move, although you know you have to. 

“My love,” he whispers. “How about a shower and some food, just the two of us?” 

You smile, leaning back to kiss his nose. “Just you and me?” 

He nods. “Just you and me.” 

That’s all you need.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you let the taste linger on your tongue. Just enough sweetness, hints of bitterness, the perfect balance. You’ve never eaten something that good, you’re almost sure of it. Chan, who is sitting in front of you, lets out a chuckle.

“That good, huh?” 

You let out a soft moan. “Best ice cream I’ve ever tasted.” 

Chan grins. “I know something that tastes better.” 

You push his leg under the table playfully and he chuckles, shaking his head, both embarrassed and amused by his dirty joke. You can’t stop looking at him. He looks so handsome in his fitted black shirt, just one button undone, a slim silver chain around his neck. When he showed up at your door wearing that, fitted black trousers and leather shoes, you almost pulled him into your apartment and abandoned the idea of going to the restaurant. But Chan had also been holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, his eyes sparkling with joy, and that made your heart dance in different ways. 

“Pardon my French, but you look fucking gorgeous,” he had said, leaning in for a kiss. 

You had hugged him, giggling like a teenager as he left a trail of kisses down your neck, his other hand touching the fabric of your black dress, exploring the way it hugged your body. You had to push him away and take the flowers from him - if you let yourself go against his embrace you knew you would never make it to the restaurant on time. 

Chan had made a reservation at a fancy place, not at all your usual style, but he had once gone with family and had loved the food, so he wanted you to taste it too. 

When you leave the restaurant, your belly is full, your heart content, your soul even more. You stop when you cross the door, however. While you were inside it started to rain. It’s not a drizzle - it’s heavy, cold rain, falling down straight and hard on the ground. 

“Damn,” you let out, glancing at Chan. “Should we wait it out, or…?” 

Something sparkles in his eyes, and he doesn’t need to speak for you to understand what he is thinking about. You let out a nervous giggle, giving him a single nod.

Chan takes your hand and the both of you dash into the rain. You let out a scream because the rain is cold, but you don’t stop. You and Chan run towards the car, crossing the parking lot as fast as you can. He doesn’t let go of your hand. 

You run fast, it feels like you have wings.

And yet, it’s like time slows down. 

You glance at Chan, his eyes disappear in crescents, his laugh the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. You can’t help it - you stop, pull on his hand and draw his body towards you. 

Under the falling rain you kiss. 

He kisses you back, his lips hungry and smooth. 

You slide an arm around his waist, and slowly, you start dancing. 

Chan bursts in laughter against your lips. He draws back, looking at you with tenderness spilling out his eyes, and joins you in the dance. For a minute or two, you dance under the rain. You turn, swirl, sway. You can’t stop laughing. 

You kiss again, and the rain starts falling harder on your heads, and even then you do not stop.

— the end.

Well, hello ♡ Believe me, posting was a surprise for me as well! But I found myself missing writing, missing sharing my writing with you, missing this. So here is the sequel that I once talked about, that has been written for a long time! I hope it's not too disappointing. I remember the writing of it very fondly. ♡ Please be kind as I haven't posted in forever haha.

Thank you for sticking around, thank you for reading me. I am so incredibly thankful. I don't think I'll create a taglist for now, so do not ask please ♡ I hope you enjoyed this, and please take care of each other. Love you all ♡♡

[nervousladytraveler]

2023 AO3 Fic Review/Wrap-Up

Thank you to the lovely @dreamstone28737 for the tag! 😘 I took a long time to respond--sorry!

I didn't really write too many different works this year so I refer to the same titles a few times in my responses below. That said, I did write (or at least post) 307,626 words–not too shabby!

List of Fics Completed This Year

One-Shots: I don’t tend to write too many little fics. But this year I did “The Shift” and “A Brilliant Choice”. Most of my one shots tend to come from prompts (and @veryflowerobservation always sends me good ones). I have another wee fic (“A Question of Trust”) that is a Grace Poldark/Tom Jones crossover story that is completed, but not yet posted. I need to finish reading the novel Tom Jones before I do just to make sure I got it right.

Multi-Chap: Like Someone Who Would Know Her Own Mind and A Rose in December

Series: A Rose in December is now part of a Like Someone Sequels series?

Your Personal Fave

A Rose in December because it just was so enjoyable to write.

Your Fave Scene

My favorite scene ? Hard to choose but maybe a few from A Rose in December. I really enjoyed writing the conversation between Ross and Demelza when they first meet over coffee (Ch 4 “Tiramisu” and Ch 6 “Two of Cups”). My second favorite is the end when they are on the phone with Prudie (especially the bawdy jokes she and her cousin make) in Ch 32 “Candle Dance.” But in truth, I only finished/edited/posted those scenes this year--and really first wrote them a while ago. Does that still count?

A Fic or Scene that Challenged You

Any scene that has characters under emotional duress is always hard for me. I really internalize their feelings and have a hard time shaking them off. There are a few chapters in A Rose in December that show a relationship unravelling. Those were tough and tricky to get right. But also scenes where a lot of plot is covered–those are difficult too! There are a few chapters in Duty that are like that.

A Line of Writing You’re Proud Of

I try not to get too attached to any one line of writing. I am partial to dialogue–the back and forth is fun–but don't have any particular favorite.

A Comment That Touched You

Whenever a reader tells me that something I wrote gave them comfort during a rough spell or that they reread for the same reason, those comments always really move me. Of course I wish no one ever had the need for it, but I'm glad I could somehow help.

Something That Inspired Your Writing

One afternoon last spring while travelling, I slipped into a church in Germany. It was just me and the organist and it was so lovely. That inspired a scene in Ch 41 (“For the Sake of My Tears”) of Duty when Demelza hears the organist practicing in the Truro Cathedral.

Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc)

I think the fact that I finished Like Someone (in January of 2023) after so many years of working on it was a massive accomplishment. I do recall feeling a sense of satisfaction that buoyed me for weeks. But then finally finishing A Rose in December (in December 2023) was also profoundly gratifying, so they make nice bookends to the year!

Do You Have Any Writing Goals for Next Year?

I want to try to recreate the joy I found when I stopped working on anything else and immersed myself in finishing A Rose in December. I allowed myself to only focus on that story and was able to design an intentional structure for it--and not get distracted by posting along the way. 

Tagging any and all of my writing my pals — but no pressure! ❤️

P. S. This also came with a stats sheet.  I chose not to do one because it seemed like it would take me further from my goal to focus and enjoy the process of writing more but feel free to make it part of the challenge or not! The template is from dreputationera!

[a-study-in-dante]

WIP titles game!

Thank you @lithugraph for tagging me!

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Oh boy, this is gonna be a long one but I'm so, so excited. (I'll list them all, even if I've begun to post some of them, just for clarity and shameless self-promoting, but won't include the rewrite/2.0 /translated versions I have in mind and/or in the WIP folder). PS: I'm so pissed my computer changed the creation dates of ALL the files when I transfered them on it, because I would have included that. Some of these have been going on for far too long.

Hetalia

Ambassy AU. (The document starts with We need a damn title.) PruAus. Oneshot. 2 pages so far.

AU Pianiste. PruAus. 7 pages so far, no idea if this is a multichapter or oneshot.

(Realized an article's bibliography is saved in the WIPs folder oops lemme just change that real quick)

C'est la faute à Voltaire. FrUK. Empty document.

Champagne in Amsterdam. Ensemble cast but mostly Romano/Belgium. Long oneshot, so far 10 pages.

Château de cartes. PruAus. Fun fact: I ended up using that title for the renaming of my (only) RusPru, originally titled You give love a bad name, when I decided to post it on AO3. So yeah, need another title for this one. 2 paragraphs.

Fine dell'estate. Spamano! Started posting it last year.

Golden Sixties Are You Lonesome Tonight. FrUK. Oneshot, 2 pages so far.

Golden Sixties It's Now or Never. Spamano, Oneshot, 13 pages so far.

Golden Sixties Love Me Tender. PruAus. Oneshot, 2 pages so far.

(Those three are indeed part of a serie, I just listed them separately because this is now the official inventory of my WIPs documents™)

I bet you look good on the dancefloor (also known as Flat White and Barristas for some reason). Spamano. Three drabbles written.

I miss you (which is actually just the first line of the doc, was too lazy to come up with a title). PruAus. One dialogue so far.

I'll take the rain. PruAus. One shot, 2 pages so far.

Moderato Cantabile. PruAus, ongoing (I promise!) publication on AO3!

Nave Espacial. Spamano. 1 page.

Not another teen movie. PruAus. 3 sentences.

Old. PruAus. 4 paragraphs.

OS Noël. I think that's SuFin??? 4 lines.

Patria - PruAus aka Zeitgeist. PruAus. This is technically Patria's 13th chapter, but it was always my intention to publish it as a stand alone oneshot as well. And since it's already 32 pages long (Patria is 65 pages long so far) and I'd say it's only half of it, it looks like an even better idea!

Patria. Spamano. Ongoing publication on FF and AO3 since forever/2018.

Pirates AU. I don't even know!!! It stars England though. 2 paragraphs.

Quatre mots sur un piano. PruAusHun, this is one of my oldest projects and I can't see myself actually writing it. 5 pages.

Renaissance. Spamano. Multichapters but like 5 max (initially planned 3). 30 pages so far. First two parts available on FF.

The Berlin File Die Berlin-Akte aka The Berlin File. PruAus. Publication started on both FF and AO3, this is one of my oldest WIPs: I started this on the drafts of my phone in 2015 🙃

The Winds Are Shifting. Spamano. Also one of my oldest WIPs, even though I only wrote a paragraph so far. Oh, and wrote it as a sonnet titled Tourne le vent (which is still in my WIP folder too btw) for an assignment in first year of uni.

Vincere Tenebras. PruAus. One shot probably, 3 pages so far.

Stucky/MCU

Damn the Weather. Stucky, ongoing publication on AO3!

The Void. MCU, but mostly Stucky. Ongoing publication on AO3!

Bagginshield

Bagginshield. Lolz. 6 pages, probably multi-chaps.

Misc.

00Q - Hunt-Brandt. This is a cross over. Guess the pairings lol. Multichapters, 11 pages so far.

Hymne à l'absent. Enjoltaire. One-shot, 3 pages so far.

Selfindulgent Dark Academia Short Story. Need I say more? Exclusively OC. Inspired by my fall-winter semester in Cambridge. 2 pages so far.

You've Lost That Loving Feeling. Ethan Hunt - William Brandt (Mission: Impossible franchise), it's on AO3 and I SWEAR I'll finish it. Some day.

Waiting for asks lovely people (please)

And tagging @like-a-bucky !

[fancyshooting]

ok i'm curious to hear your thoughts: how many outfits do you think he has and how often does he update his wardrobe? does he have 6000 pairs of cowboy boots or 6? that kind of thing

image is sooo important to him... I think he values appearance because it gives off a sense of capability. being a major at 20 is practically unheard of so I think he was meticulous about his presentation to convince his detractors that he was deserving of respect regardless of his age. no one can say he doesn't look the part. he wants it to be clear that he is taking the rank seriously and his favourable treatment is more than plain nepotism. we are told in mgs3 how deeply he treasures his beret, which is THE symbol of his ability. he earned the right to wear it after completing spetsnaz training (or did he?? maybe he got special boy fast tracking leniency privileges... either way the beret is a status symbol that indicates his superiority over regular troops). he's eager to prove himself not just for personal validation but also because securing that role as major allows him access to all the privileges that come with it like idk authority, information, clearance for certain areas etc. then he can be a more efficient spy yay

more under the cut because I cannot take your entire dashboard up

he is extremely observant and detail oriented, so he's going to be very particular about the way he looks. fastidious cat and all that too hehe

obviously there is a heavy western influence on his style but he gravitates towards the fancier clothes instead of plaid shirts and jeans. I think he would turn his nose up at fringed shirts and chaps and stuff like that because they lack ELEGANCE and NOBILITY. he dresses more like the town doctor than a working rancher. when he's not in uniform he chooses to wear formal, traditional clothes like waistcoats and suits. I actually don't really like his outfit in mgsv for this reason lolol like the undone top buttons are so NOT ocie imo... who da heck is this guy...

although after that excerpt I posted we know now that he is a sweaty mess. he's used to the cold and it's hot in the seychelles so he's got to have a little relief. that's my explanation anyway (real true fact)

I think his wardrobe is likely to be made up of classic, timeless items like the suits and waistcoats etc... high quality but not designer... fancy but not flashy... it's funny actually you'd think he would be louder and bolder with his fashion what with his showy ways but he isn't. he's got a gentlemanly thing going on LOL even the accessories like the pocket watch and tie pin in mgs1 and the moustache... #classy

idk why but the thought of him as a young spetsnaz soldier attaching spurs to his standard issue boots is so funny. he went out of his way to get those. he sat there in his quarters all excited and fastened spur straps around each thoroughly polished boot. he would've had to take the time to twice assemble all the metal parts together. he chose to jingle all for the cool factor. everyone knows you don't have a horse ocelot -_-

then he got a horse and all was right again :) cowboy boots gained. spurs acceptable. I think if he's going to have anything elaborate it's going to be the boots. not vibrant colours or anything tacky but I can see his boots having some patterns... maybe still quite subtle but intricate on closer inspection. nothing too wacky. he needs to be taken as seriously as a russian cowboy can be

there is no better opportunity than now to mention the note in the mgs1 artbook that says he has "silky silver hair." the most beautiful interrogator in all of russia... there's that instruction kojima gave yoji shinkawa too during the production of mgsv - to make ocelot the most beautiful (he didn't know how to make a middle aged man beautiful so gave him long eyelashes lolol). kojima also described him in mgs3 as handsome. he is kind of a pretty boy but in a different way from kaz... ocelot's like an old fashioned dandy and kaz is a sunkissed baywatch magazine model... or something like that.....

to me he's going for like a dashing rogue sort of thing lolol like he's well-groomed, dressed all fancy and thinks he's noble but his haughty attitude, deceitfulness and nefarious scheming ways put him in the bastard scoundrel category

ENJOY MY WALL OF TEXT TY FOR ASKING <3

[bangtangalicious]

death valley (m) | part 8

summary: welcome to death valley. once you’re in, there’s no telling whether you’ll make it out alive. a summer internship turns wild with blurry nights of dangerous men, dirty money, and extremely hot sex. you soon get caught in a savage game of greed, power and obsession, only to find out that you are the grand prize

pairing: ot7 x f.reader smut ft: jin x reader, jungkook x reader, taehyung x reader

genre: smut. yandere. mystery. thriller. gang!au rockstar!au fightclub!au

wordcount: 9.0k

warnings: reader discretion advised. rough sex, physical roughness, sadism kink, pain kink, breast play, fingering, elevator sex (semipublic), praise kink, dirty talk, unrealistic endurance (this is one day LMAO), attempted fire play, bondage, guns, attempted shootings, knife play if you squint, spanking, degradation (name calling, slut shaming, being really mean lolol thanks jin), crying kink? lot of crying, toxic and manipulative behaviors, jin steps on you so there’s that, character death, heavy drug use, paranoia/fear, voyeurism, sex while intoxicated, me trying to put some humor where i can, sweet dom!jungkook, wild dom!jin, and a sprinkle of dom!taehyung ;) ALSO eyebrowpiercing!jungkook. very important. 

a/n: s/o soowoozoo!bts for being my inspo. 

part 0 | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | series navi | masterlist |

F L A S H F O R W A R D--

Goosebumps spread across your skin as the silence set in. The room was chilly, air conditioner buzzing in contrast to the slick humidity of the summer night waiting for you outside. The white light made your eyes ache, the walls were plain, dry, empty.

You stared blankly at the table in front of you. The sound of the pen scratching paper made you ache, remembering kinder days when you and Hobi would be goofing around and writing songs. How did you get here? How did you let this happen?

The previous night, you had dreamt of being at a concert, somewhere far from Death Valley. Losing yourself to music and molly, a soft pair of hands on your hips as you danced the night away, singing at the top of your lungs. Those same hands wrapping around your waist, nose tracing behind your ear to whisper to you how pretty you were. How hot you looked and how badly he wanted to tear your clothes off with his teeth. 

You allowing him to pick you up so easily, take you back to his car where you scrambled into the back seat. Like children. The first kiss was magic, you were glued to him and could barely move on. He wouldn’t leave you for a second, he wouldn’t let you breathe. Your lips were hot on each other, soft moans and giggles. Swallowed smiles as you drank one another in, bodies like waves crashing against each other.

Hands wandering until he had you where he wanted. Where you wanted. He loved you down so incredibly good. How he was able to tear you apart while still being so sweet, you could barely even fathom. His teeth dug into the flesh of your breasts, fingers hooking around your panties. 

His tongue ravished your figure. There was no part of you left untouched, no part of you that wasn’t completely ablaze with arousal. You would arch your neck back as he lapped away at the sweetness dripping between your legs, your hands combing through his wavy black hair.

His tongue knew where to go, he knew how you liked it, and your fist clenched as he fucked you with his mouth through and through. He always made sure you came first. Always. Every single time.

Whether you had mere minutes or long hours, he loved the way you tasted, making sure you knew that at every chance he got. Sloppy wet kisses traveled up your stomach to your chest, up your neck, hands caressing your ass, scratching your back, holding you close for a moment. 

You were whisked away into heaven, just briefly, as his thick cock would push into you. Your pussy pulling him in, wanting to feel the familiar but oh so incredible stretch that only he gave you. 

Taehyung. You sobbed as he fucked you, allowing him to kiss the glossy tears off of your cheeks as he rolled his hips, angling so perfectly to nudge deep within you. His sinister grin, his giggles, his chaos. You were in the hands of disaster but you never felt more safe. 

Why are you crying dumbass? He would find your state amusing, continuing to fuck you, thrusts long and smooth. Quick, but slow enough for you to savor each second. Your whining lost behind the wet sound of your bodies colliding.

Where are you? Are you watching this right now? You’re not really dead are you?

Stroking your cheek, he leaned down to whisper against your mouth. The words he would keep on saying, echoing back to you. Play along. I won’t hurt you.

What exactly you were playing, you were unsure. 

“Look at me” Your eyes darted up to meet Jin’s deceivingly innocent eyes. “I’m gonna ask you again, did you kill Kim Taehyung?” 

You gulped, sweat collecting onto the cold handcuffs around your wrists. Jin glanced at the mirrored wall, before letting out a heavy sigh. 

“It appears that Kim Taehyung was murdered about two hours before the party. We found your gun near the body.” Jin holds up the custom weapon Yoongi had given that was unmistakably yours. “Where were you at that time?” You felt your eyes getting heavy.

“I was” You lips were chapped, mouth clammy with a bitter taste. You looked him dead in the eye, stomach sickened by the amusement glistening within them as you struggled with your response. You knew he was getting a kick out of it. You wanted to spit on his face. You wanted to slap him, to scream, to flip the table and break out of the windowless room that caged you.

“I was with...y..” Jin smirked, leaning back. You cleared your throat, mind running a mile a minute.

“With who Y/n?”

You glared at him. He was treating this as some sort of role play. You felt queasy at the thought. Someone was dead. Dead. 

“You. I was with you”

F L A S H B A C K--

The morning rays slid through the expansive glass wall of the hotel room, causing Yoongi’s eyes to flinch, squinting as they opened and took in the day that presented itself. He sighed heavily, the weight of the previous night still on his mind. You were still asleep, but he could see through the chaffing beneath your wrists that you were not comfortable. He took the leash and fastened it to the headboard, ensuring you had no escape. 

Grabbing his keys, Yoongi quickly got dressed in a white hoodie and left the room. He needed to find out the truth for himself. He couldn’t afford to have you lying to him already. 

It was so frustrating to him that you couldn’t just be honest with him. He had been immensely open with you even if he was not proud of what he had to share. Why would you hide things? Hadn’t he proven himself to you? Hadn’t he done everything to win your heart?

Yoongi sighed. His anger issues were core to his being. It was part of his true self, but he had spent years trying to become someone you would fall in love with. All he wanted to do was make home in your heart, but no matter how many of your suitors he ended up threatening, beating to a pulp, and forcing them to bail on you, there was nothing in his power that could tear down that goddamn Park Jimin poster on your bedroom wall.

There was nothing he could do to stop you from writing small fantasies in your journal that you kept stashed in your bedside drawer. 

Yoongi would be lying if he said he didn’t come close to killing Jimin multiple times before. But he realized that would not have delivered him a solution. If Jimin died, you would mourn. You would still harbor that love for him and never have an opportunity to see what he really was. It was because of this Yoongi, with Taehyung’s helpful insight, had orchestrated a way to destroy Jimin in your eyes. 

Jimin was then introduced to Yoongi’s two weapons of destruction, Taehyung and cocaine. Yoongi worked hard to build himself up as a successful music producer. He had to be better than Jimin, had to make sure he could offer you everything Jimin could and more. 

To his surprise, you did move on from Jimin, at least the reality of him. But this fantasy of who he used to be remained pinned to your heart. After Jimin quit music, the mention of his name would still cause you to blush and smile. It made Yoongi want to throw up.

You had to see for yourself. Yoongi learned what it was that attracted you to Jimin and embodied just that. You liked that you had to chase him, you liked that he didn’t give a shit about you. You liked that he never noticed you and you had to pine for his attention. You liked that he was dedicated to his music, you liked the lifestyle he was associated with. You liked his lack of emotion and fantasized of him showing his true colors to you and only you, a sensitive, sweet, charming guy. Anger was not a part of this persona at all. 

When he felt like he had driven Jimin crazy enough with the drugs, he decided to plant rumors on stan twitter that Jimin would be signing with his label. Using his personal relationship with the singer, he was able to sign him on. He conveniently then offered you a summer internship, knowing full well you would be coming for one reason alone. Park Jimin.

Yoongi wanted you to fall straight into his arms. He rented out every available apartment for the months you were searching for a place to live, forcing you to reside in his building. He wanted to win you over naturally. He wanted you to work with Jimin, hook up with Jimin, and end up loathing him. Loving Yoongi instead. 

Jimin’s gang activity was getting on Yoongi’s nerves. Taehyung told him Jimin was in Death Valley, that you saw Jimin at Death Valley. When Yoongi heard from you, not Taehyung, that you had been kidnapped, along with Namjoon nonetheless, Yoongi had enough. He was used to giving Taehyung plenty of unsupervised jurisdiction, so Jimin’s accident was not a surprise to him. 

But you sympathized with Jimin, which was not what he wanted. He then decided to take things into his own hands, threatening Seokjin into throwing the fight to leech Jimin of every cent he had. He broke into your apartment, fucking everything up so that you had no choice but to come to him. To need him. 

And when Jin didn’t lose, he had no choice but to reveal to you who he was. Even after all his honestly, all his trust, you still lied to him. 

Yoongi was furious. He arrived at Death Valley, using the front entrance. Pulling a mask over his face, he barged in, surveying the silence as a sign that the bar was empty. Through the kitchen he arrive at the back storage room, accessible only by key, where all of the surveillance had been set up years ago. 

Monitors were spread across the wall, but Yoongi’s eyes narrowed in at one that was coming up with no feed. Your apartment. Someone had fucked with the cameras. Yoongi types away at the main monitor, enlarging your apartment footage and reeling back to find the moment the device was destroyed.

He sees Taehyung, whispering something to you. Next thing he knows the stream is blank. He grits his teeth, as all the pieces fall into place. He was a fool. How could he have been so blind? Taehyung must be in love with you. He must have, after watching you for so many years. Yoongi scowled at the thought of the ways Taehyung may have seen you, naked, vulnerable, ways that only he should. 

He had trusted Taehyung. Taehyung had only ever shown interest in money and Yoongi thought that was enough. Taehyung must have fucked you over and over again once the cameras were dead. What a whore. It made sense then that he had cut the line through his branding on you. He was the only one who could have. He had access to you and he was psychotic! He must have forced you to lie. You wouldn’t ever hide anything from Yoongi, no, Yoongi was the man of your dreams. You felt grateful that you had him, didn’t you?

He tilted his head, cracking his knuckles before he punched the glass screen, causing the feed to go haywire and sparks to erupt. Kim Taehyung. You are dead to me.

Yoongi growled lowly before picking up his phone. “It’s me. I need to see you. Now” 

-

Hobi kept his hand on the small of your back as he led you down to the hotel bar. The two of you nodded politely at the staff members who were busily preparing for the big event. The bar was empty aside for a few guests enjoying their brunch-time mimosas.

Hobi couldn’t really revel in the fact that the two of you were getting drinks together, almost like a date. His mind was too caught up in the initial shock he felt when he saw you tied up in his boss’ bedroom. He felt upset, but moreso he felt violated. He wondered if you were getting taken advantage of. Did he promise you a promotion? Was he manipulating you?

Punishing someone like that, Hobi was never one to kink shame, but it seemed a bit much. The name burned into your skin did nothing to ease his concern. Someone who was possessive, violent, impulsive. It reminded him of...

Hobi didn’t know. He didn’t know who gave him orders. He really didn’t care once the cash rolled in, but it began hitting too close to home. He wasn’t thrilled about hurting Namjoon, but two duffel bags of cash were enough for him to momentarily set aside his morals. 

“What should I get?” You surveyed the small menu of cocktails. “What’s gonna fuck me up the fastest?”

Hobi snorted, “Tequila” He twirled your hair as your gaze remained glued to the menu. The thought of you being in danger upset him greatly “Y/n...when did Yoongi brand you?" You called the bartender ordering a line of shots to which the they glanced at the clock before giving you a weird look.

“The night of the rematch” You told him, reacting before you realized what you had said. Your lip tucked between your teeth as you tried to conjure an excuse. A row of shot glasses was placed in front of you. You took one, gulping it down before letting out a heavy sigh. The bitterness burned down your throat. You basked as the liquid hit your mind, easing you slightly.

“Yoongi was at the fight?” Hobi recalled the wild night that the three of you had been at Death Valley. It was the first time he ever saw the man giving him orders. The man was tall, broad, had dark hair and wore dark clothes, face covered in a mask. Could it have been...Yoongi?

“Y/n!” The two of you turned to see Jungkook approaching the bar. He had changed his hair, the blue swapped for a short black cut, and you couldn’t help but double take at his new eyebrow piercing. 

You downed another shot, glancing at Hobi who had raised his eyebrows seeing the drug dealer. Jungkook gave you a light hug, waving timidly to Hobi. You smirked, another shot down the hatch. “Easyyyy Y/n” He placed a hand on your back as he slid into the seat next to you.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Hobi sneered. Jungkook rolled his eyes, used to the condescending treatment of gang members. "Didn’t you get stabbed or something?”

“I did!” Jungkook grinned, “In fact, that’s exactly why I’m here. I think I figured out who Mr. Bossman is, and I wanna fucking kill him”

Hobi rolled his eyes, “Oh really”

“Kim Seok-motherfucking-Jin baby. He stabbed me. He’s the one who showed up and threatened me to move out of Y/n’s apartment, so he’s probably also the one who called for the kidnapping. And he might have called for Jimin’s accident. It makes so much fucking sense”

Jin did what? There was not enough alcohol in your veins to act like you didn’t fully understand what he had just said. Jin had Jungkook move out? It wasn’t impossible. And that’s what scared you. You blinked at Jungkook incredulously, “But he’s literally a police officer”

Jungkook’s grin widened, “Exactly! It’s fucking brilliant. He’s a cop, he fights for the other side. He wins no matter what and can never get caught. No one would ever suspect him. Winning despite being threatened? Who threatened him huh? It’s a fucking ploy. You’re not dead and neither is he I bet. Kingpin. Boom”

You felt sick, knowing that Yoongi was not the only person you needed to be worried about. It was almost funny how blatantly misinformed Jungkook was. “Wow you guys are idiots.” You muttered under your breath, taking another shot before coughing roughly. Should I tell them? Why did Jin lie? Is this even the truth? Jin always tried to pin things on Jungkook, but you defended him. Hearing his words now made your head spin. He’s lying. Jungkook is lying. You wanted to scream, frustration flooding through your veins as you clenched your fists.

“I’m gonna tell Jimin and Taehyung what I know. They will give me so much money dude.” Jungkook chuckled, “And then they’d kill him, oh God finally”

Hobi pursed his lips, mouth feeling dry as he reflected on Jin’s eerie words before he shot him in the leg. He didn’t know where Jin was anymore, handing him off to be taken somewhere. It didn’t make sense. His orders were to seize Jin if Jin won the fight. Why place an order like that all? Why do any of this?

“Y/n, come with me.” Jungkook tugged at the sleeve of the oversized Nirvana shirt you had thrown on after your shower session with Hobi. You giggled, the thought of Taehyung coming into your slowed thoughts like a hurricane, tearing up any understanding you thought you had of the situation. There was only one thing you believed. Only one thing you knew with full certainty and it was all you could hold onto.

“Oh my goodness it’s Yoongi. It’s Yoongi. It’s always been Yoongi” The words spilled from your lips like the tequila that dripped down the side of your lips as you took yet another shot, giggling like a ditz. Jungkook and Hobi exchanged confused looks with each other, only making you laugh more. “I would fucking know okay!” Your laughs grew loud, “I was locked up in his fucking apartment and where the hell were all of you huh? Dumb fucking idiots!” You buckled over, laughing into Jungkook’s chest.

“Jungkook” Hobi sighed, “I gotta get back to work. Can you get her sober please?” Jungkook nodded. He held your waist tightly helping you stand, walking with you carefully to the hotel elevator.

The laughter wouldn’t stop. Passerbys shot the two of you dirty looks as Jungkook pulled you into the elevator easily. Through it’s glass walls you could see the midday skyline, where outside people hustled through life as if everything were normal. Must be fucking nice. “Y/n” Your laughs began to choke in your throat, turning instead to the sobs you tried to suppress with whatever will you had left. 

Jungkook placed his soft lips on your shoulder. Hands sliding onto your waist as he peered at you curiously, “Y/n, is everything okay?”

You shook your head, the elevator door closed as tears began forming in your eyes. Your voice croaked, “I’m dead. He’s gonna kill me. T..taehyung is gonna kill me. I...I know he will. He’s everywhere. Everywhere.” You looked around frantically, suddenly feeling hyperaware of the security cameras littered throughout the public space. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone...I” You hiccuped. Jungkook pulled you into a tight hug.

“It’s okay ssh” He stroked his thumbs them across your cheeks, cupping your face affectionately. “I’m here aren’t I?” You sniffled, nodding lightly. “I got you okay. No one is gonna hurt you”

You stared into his kind brown eyes. You did not trust him, your entire body was screaming at you not to trust him. His fingers danced down your figure, freely gliding over your heaving chest, desperately trying to breathe with the fear that choked you from within.

You blinked at him, eyes glancing down at his pouty lips before finding his eyes again. “Y/n” Jungkook whispered, barely inches from your lips. “I won’t let anyone hurt you okay. I promise”

Fat tears rolled down your face at his words. Jungkook clicked his tongue, cooing at you as he continued to wipe away your hears. “Oh you poor thing” He held you to his chest, kissing the top of your head, before tilting your face up to his. 

He leaned in, eyes fluttering shut as his lips landed on yours, swallowing you into him. The taste of tequila was evident on your lips as he kissed you softly, and you allowed yourself to surrender to his warm touch.

You felt heat pooling in your chest as his fingers trailed up your legs. He traced circles into the inside of your thighs, letting his fingers tease the edge of your shorts. 

“Jungkook” You inhaled sharply, his hot breath tickling your neck as you tilted your head back. He licked his lips before sloppily latching onto your collarbone, sucking down to litter your skin with wet kisses as his fingers slid down your shorts, just barely so that he could roll his hips into you.

He pushed you back against the glass, fingers trailing across your bare thighs before sliding beneath your panties. Jungkook ran a finger over your clothed folds, making you clench down. 

“Y/n” His voice sounded equally as desperate as yours, barely audible over the sound of his heavy breathing. “Fuck I missed you” You gasped as his fingers slid under the fabric. He pushed a finger in, allowing your tight cunt to accustom to it before adding another finger not long after. 

His other hand slid beneath your shirt, pushing your bra up so he could run his thumb over your nipples, his touch featherlight, leaving you breathless. You rolled your eyes back in pleasure, bucking your hips up as he slowly pumped you with his fingers.

“That’s it baby, just like that” He whispered, lips pressing into your neck. You let out a shaky moan as his fingers quickened, pumping in and out of you as you latched onto his shoulders. “Look at me. Look right at me baby”

He brought his lips over yours, just brushing them across your skin so he could gaze deep into your eyes as you fucked yourself onto his fingers. You cried out his name as the friction began to overwhelm you. His fingers easing you right where you needed them, pleasure searing through you as he watched your every move.

"So good for me” He pulled his fingers out, doused in your sticky arousal before he placed them into his own mouth. Your eyes widen as he licked of every last bit of you and smiles. “You taste so fucking good baby”

He kisses you again, harsher this time as his hips roll against you. Your fingers grip his hair as he pulls down his sweats, allowing his cock to spring out. 

“You want my cock?” He ran his tongue over your lips, tugging at them slightly as he stroked his cock. You could feel his hand moving between your legs. “You want my big cock in your little pussy?”

You gulped, nodding as Jungkook looked down, lining his tip against your folds, pushing in only slightly before meeting your eyes again. “So warm and wet for me, fuck” He pushed in further, groaning as you spread your thighs wider, allowing him to thrust as deep as he could. He stilled briefly, kissing you again “You take me so well baby fuck. So fucking tight for me. My pretty baby” He stroked your face, thumb pushing into your mouth slightly.

“Does it feel good?” He mumbled, pulling out just slightly before rolling his hips back into you. He picked up a rhythm, fucking you deep and slow, hands clawing at your breasts.

“Yeah...feels really good” Your eyes fell shut, enjoying the fulfilling pleasure of his movements. He pulled your shirt up, burying his face between your breasts as he continued to fuck up into you. 

“Mmm yeah I bet” He pushed your bra up, allowing his fingers to pinch you nipples. He took one into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around the small bud as he began to suckle you, looking up to your face and enjoying your reactions. “You’re so fucking pretty you know that right?” He sucked on your breast harshly before leaving it with a soft kiss and moving onto the other. “So perfect for me”

His thrusts quickened, driving you up the wall as his hands fell to your hips. You burying your face in the crook of his neck as you felt your high approaching. “Jungkook...I’m...”

“Yeah?” Jungkook’s voice was raspy with lust, “You wanna cum baby? Cum for me baby, cum all over my cock, wanna hear you make those pretty little moans when you cum”

You cried out with every thrust as he pushed you over the edge, and you felt your pussy burst with pleasure as you came, the sloppy sounds of your arousal echoing through the small space. Jungkook groaned as the hot liquid covered his cock, allowing him to slide in and out of you with ease. 

“There you go. Good girl. Good fucking girl, just like that” He gasped, feeling his cock twitch slightly, buried deep in your cunt, “Want me to cum inside you baby?” You nodded, whining slightly, “Yeah? You want it baby? Huh?” Jungkook’s hips thrust furiously at you, and he cupped your face, bringing his forehead against yours so he could look into your eyes as he came. “Want my cum? Want me to fill you up baby?”

“Yeah. I want it. Jungkook please,” Your whiny voice was enough to have him spurting through you.

“Holy fuck” Jungkook buckled over, holding you tight as cum shot out of him, filling you up and leaking out onto the floor.

He pulled out of you quickly, pulling up his sweats while you fixed your own clothes. Sweat painted his forehead as he looked at you, panting with a big smile on his cute face.

“I missed that” He confessed, pulling you back into him by the waist. He knelt down and pressed his lips on yours, letting his hands slide to your ass and squeeze them softly. 

You heard a familiar ring as the elevator door reached it’s destination. You jumped away from Jungkook, unable to get far as the strong boy’s hold on you remained steady. 

"I see stabbing you once didn’t really drive home the message huh Mr. Jeon Jungkook” 

You felt goosebumps spread as you heard the sinister tone of Jin’s voice. He stood leaning against the elevator as if he had been waiting for you, twirling his knife around aimlessly between his fingers. “Too bad, I unfortunately can’t kill you yet” He turned to you and winked, “Both of you come with me”

-

Sweat trickled down from Namjoon’s neck, his eyes glued to the tattered punching bag in front of him. His muscles were still sore, bruises still spattered across his bare chest. He didn’t care. He was sick of feeling helpless. Under the dim lights of the boxing gym, he pushed himself, another hit, more force, ignoring the pain shooting through his limbs with every strike.

“Don’t overdo it” Namjoon rolled his eyes at the sound of the familiar voice. “Last thing you want is to get injured again” He turned to the sound of loafers echoing across the concrete floor.

“What do you want Yoongi?” Namjoon sneered. The producer smirked slightly, patting the punching bag playfully before pacing around Namjoon.

“I’m gonna kill Taehyung, and I know Jimin is gonna break hell. I need you to protect Y/n for me. Can I trust you, Namjoon?” His voice was stern.

“Man, fuck you Yoongi” Namjoon groaned, “I put my life on the line for you constantly and you still have to fucking ask? Promise me. I want out after this. Promise me a record deal”

Yoongi shrugged, “Okay fine. I’ll sign you. Don’t let her out of your sight.” Yoongi inhaled sharply, “And I swear to God Namjoon if you even think about touching her, you’re dead to me. And I will know if you do.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, lips parted, desperately trying to catch his breath. “Yeah okay. Just get me my fucking record deal”

Yoongi pursed his lips, pulling out his phone and handing it to Namjoon. “Paperwork is ready. You have one job. Don’t fuck up again” Namjoon clenched his fist as Yoongi chuckled in amusement. “I have some business I need to deal with personally. Keep her safe Namjoon, please”

-

You gagged, a puke-ish feeling clogging your throat as you coughed out. Your head was throbbing with pain as you squinted against the gleaming lights from the chandelier above your head. Glancing around, you realized you were back at Jungkook’s place, large dark wooden floors adding to the ambiance that just screamed rich in your face. The plushness of his large bed evident beneath you. 

You get up slightly, peering across the room where you see Jin handing a large duffel bag to Jungkook, whispering something into his ear. Jungkook nods eagerly, shaking Jin’s hand before exiting. He turns back to you, smiling as he realizes you are awake.

“Hey party girl. Recovered from our little day drinking session have we?” Jin chuckled. You scowl, searching around you as your throat desperately demanded water. Jin handed you a glass. “I just got Jungkook caught up, but you and I need to have a little talk” 

You exhaled before emptying the entire glass down your throat. “I know everything” You scoffed in spite, “I know everything you did, you fucking maniac”

Jin smiled wide at the term, “I know. Jungkook told me you think I was behind all of the stuff that’s been going on, stabbing him and kidnapping you. I mean,” Jin laughed, a tinge of condescendence in his voice, “You don’t actually believe that do you? Like, seriously how dumb are these guys. At least you’re smart”

You frowned at his tone, unsure of how to respond. Jin raised his eyebrows at your silence before continuing, “Oh come on Y/n. Use that little brain of yours hm? What the hell would I be gaining from all this? It was Taehyung.”

He extended you a hand, helping you out of the bed and pulling you up to stand before him, “What did he tell you huh? That he’s Yoongi’s friend or some shit? Taehyung doesn’t give a fuck about Yoongi. And I know you know about him screwing over Jimin. He’s trying to take over both gangs, not just Jimin’s, and he’s been lying to you this whole time.”

The bargaining chip. “What do you mean?” You followed the flat echoes of his footsteps down the hallway into the same office that you had Jimin tied up only a few days ago. You suppressed a smile as you noticed the curtains were still torn.

“He’s distracting Jimin and Yoongi with you. He wants them to get up against each other so that he can sway the gang loyalties towards him by showing that their leaders priorities are off. Look here” Jin motioned towards a laptop on the large desk, playing security footage of what appeared to be Death Valley’s parking lot, where people were loading bags of cash into what could have been Taehyung’s car. “He’s robbing them. And you know what else Y/n? When he’s done with all of this, he’s gonna kill them both.” 

No. No way. Betrayal stung you as you process Jin’s words, “You’re just a pawn in his game. You were bait. He just needed to you get Jimin and Yoongi to fight amongst each other. And you let him, didn’t you?” Jin chuckled, patting your cheek. “I know he kept telling you that you could trust him. That he wouldn’t hurt you. It was bullshit Y/n. This man only cares about one thing. Himself”

You thought back to the first night you laid your eyes on him, back when his hair was a faded green, his sweaty tan skin contrasting his dark leather jacket. The look of familiarity in his eyes and the gleam from his diamond studded watch. You were a fool. He strung you along.

“Where is he?” You growled, “I wanna hear it from him. I wanna ask him myself”

“Absolutely. In fact, if you’re up for it, I was wondering if you would be down to do another little mission for me” Jin winked at you. You scowled, folding your arms over your chest, “If we don’t kill him first, he’s planning on killing Yoongi tonight before the party. I know because I got him to let me in on his little coup” Your heart dropped, “You don’t want that do you?”

"No” You blurted. 

“So let’s kill him first. Come on, let’s go get you dolled up for this party”

As you left the office, you couldn’t help but notice a familiar figure standing at the other end of the hallway.

Namjoon? Your eyes locked with his. He pressed a finger to his lips before pointing at Jin and shaking his head. What is he trying to say. Namjoon seemed to have a warning look in his eyes. You simply shrugged at him, before running down the hall to catch up with Jin.

Namjoon exhaled, watching from a window as Jin and you drove off, likely heading to the hotel. Looking at his palm he saw the way his nails left imprints in his skin from how hard he was clenching his fists. Namjoon wasn’t necessarily a fan of Taehyung, but he knew a thing or two about him from Yoongi. Taehyung would never kill people. He was averse to it for some reason, Namjoon always thought it was ironic for him to be a gangster given that quality. Taehyung could torture anyone, threaten anyone, but he didn’t have it in him to take a life. 

Which meant that Jin was lying to you. Namjoon never liked Jin. Even aside from all the hits he had taken from the strong man, he always felt something was off about the guy. He feels uneasy about what he had just seen transpire, and decided to go find Yoongi. 

-

“Do you want some coke?” You were in the middle of washing your face when Jin walked in with a bag of powder. “I could use a hit, I don’t know about you”

“Oh hell yes. Thank you” He poured out a line on the bathroom counter using a quarter, watching with a small chuckle as you inhaled the drug, nose pressed against the cool marble. You sighed, wiping your nose and flashing a big grin in the mirror “Damn. I needed that. I didn’t know that you use”

Jin bit back a smirk, “I do.” He poured another line on the same place, this time taking a hit himself. “A lot”

“Oh. Officer Jin is a druggie like the rest of us huh” You teased. Jin poured himself a gin martini, taking a sip, eyes alight with amusement. “Does that turn you on ever? Do you ever have a hottie cuffed up and they’re like please Officer does that..you know..turn you on?”

Jin’s eyes widened at you “Not any hottie, no. Now if I had you cuffed up saying that” He chuckled, pulling you to him by the waist “That’s a whole other story” You pushed him away playfully.

“What?” Jin said mockingly, “Don’t remember that night where I gave you the best orgasm of your life?” His traced his lips up your jaw, and you could feel his smile against you.

“Wow. Cocky are we?” You raised your eyebrows. “I’ve had some pretty good sex in my life. Hard to say if that was the best”

Suddenly, Jin pulled his knife from his back pocket, glancing in the mirror as he traced the blade across your neck just enough for you to feel the sharp cold metal glide on your skin, pinching without actually making you bleed. “Don’t even lie. You loved fucking me. Don’t you remember? How fucking wet you were?” His breath was hot against your lips, but it was the look in his eyes that had you weak in the knees. 

Taking his knife, he slit clean down your shirt, tearing it off of you to reveal your bare chest. “On the floor slut” His whispered, flirty demeanor now shifted into something dark. Something feral.

You gulped, taking care to slide your bottoms off, not wanting him to slice them up before lowering yourself down onto the tiled bathroom floor. 

Jin set the knife aside, pulling out his lighter and setting in on the counter before shedding his own clothes, even he kicking off his shoes. He lifted his foot, and you watched with a curious gaze as he placed his foot on your chest. He kept the weight off of you, much to your relief, and you couldn’t help but feel absolutely filthy as he rolled your breasts under the sole of his foot. You had never done anything like this. It seemed so dirty, but felt so good. 

“Oh my god Jin” You gasped as he switched onto his other leg, taking his foot and shoving it into your mouth, watching in amusement as you gagged over his toes.

“Look at you. On the fucking floor. Naked little whore. Letting me do whatever I fucking want.” He removed his foot from your mouth, letting you catch your breath before you looked up at him with quivering eyes.

He felt blood rush to his cock at your expression. Licking his lips, knelt down, climbing over you to gently trail his fingers where his foot had been moments ago.

“And you love it” He sneered, letting his nails dig into your breast, “You love the pain don’t you you fucking slut?” When you didn’t answer he grabbed your jaw, pushing his fingers into the edge of your mouth. “I asked you a fucking question”

“Y...yes” You exhaled. You felt his fingers tease your clit, teeth tugging on your lobe as he laughed darkly.

Jin reached for the martini glass “Turn over” He growled. You found yourself with your breasts pressed flat against the floor, Jin’s cock pressing into your ass. You gasped as he poured the drink onto your back. “This is gonna burn. And you’re gonna take it like a good girl. I know you are, you let Yoongi do it so I can too”

“Wait what” Jin pressed your face down with one hand while the other grabbed his lighter, “Jin. Hold on.” Your voice rose in fear, which only turned Jin on more. He watched as you writhed under him, trying desperately to get away. “Jin seriously. That’s not funny”

“Shhh. You can take it” He cooed, flicking the flame on he slowly lowered it to your skin, bringing it nearer and nearer to the doused skin. You yelped as you began to feel the concentrated heat. Your entire body was petrified. “Enjoy it baby. You like it. You love it. You let Yoongi do it so why can’t I?”

“Jin. It’s not you, I'm just not ready for something like this please” Jin cocked his head aside in irritation, stopping the lighter before it actually touched you and tossing it aside. “I didn’t let Yoongi brand me he just did.”

Jin stilled momentarily. “And you still love him? Even though he did that?”

You didn’t answer. That alone was enough for Jin to rage. He slammed your face back down, the blow giving you a dizzying sensation that hat you getting wetter by the second. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He growled, “How can you love someone like that?” He pulled your face up, bending you back until you were flush against his chest. “I don’t want any of them touching you again. You understand me?” He let go, giving you whiplash as you fell back to the floor. “Ass up. Now” He spanked your ass hard, causing you to yelp. The stinging pain vibrated to your core. You couldn’t help but love every second of it. 

Jin knew that you were scared of him, he could feel it. He could also see the way your thighs would clench whenever he did anything to you. You were his favorite drug. He was going to ruin you.

He grabbed his belt from the pile of clothes on the side, “Hands under” He demanded, rolling his lip through his teeth as you obeyed him right away. He took the belt tying your wrists to your knees under you.

He took a moment to admire his work, your shivering body all his for the taking. You had no where to run. He had you now. “Who gives it to you the best him?” Pulling you towards him by your thighs, he didn’t care that your knees would burn against the smooth tile as he lined his cock up with your folds. He spat down, a glob of saliva landing on your ass before he used his cock head to rub it all over you. He could hear your shaky breath, your whiny moans that made him want to fuck you even more. 

He slapped his palm  onto the curve of your ass, bending over your to growl into your ear “Filthy whore. You disgust me. You let them all just do whatever they want to you, don’t you have any fucking self respect?” He could see his words were hitting close to home. You pursed your trembling lips as Jin smacked you again in the same place. 

“When will you fucking learn huh? This pussy” He reached his hand to harshly cup your cunt, shoving two fingers inside you without warning. “This pussy belongs to me. You’re mine. My cockslut whore” Taking his fingers out, he shoved them into your mouth “You taste that? That how desperate your needy little cunt is for me”

Your legs were strung together, making it all the more painful when he finally began to push his cock inside you, using his fingers to scissor you open so that he could get deep inside you. His length pushed against your tight walls, your cries and curses only motivating Jin to push further. 

“Who owns this cunt huh?” Jin pulled your hips back, burning your knees each time as he pulled you on and off his cock. Your ass slammed into him with each blow. 

“You do. Holy fuck, you do” You gasped, practically screaming as your whole body ached with pain and pleasure. 

“That’s right baby” He pinched your clit, making you yelp as he flicked at it, pounding into your relentlessly. 

“J..Jin” You mumbled, lips still half pressed on the floor, “Jin please. Feels good” Jin scoffed, “Gonna cum...gonna cum” You inhaled loudly as you felt your high approaching. Your eyes clenched shut as he edged you closer and closer, fingers furiously attacking your clit until he stopped.

You let out a loud sob as Jin yanked you up by your neck “You really thought I would let you cum whore?” His grip tightened, cock twitching at the way your voice sounded choking, the water streaming from your eyes and the drool at the edge of your lips. He kissed you, licking it all up in the process.  

“Look in the mirror. Look at how pathetic you are. I want you to remember the only person who’s ever gonna let you feel this good” You looked at your reflection, seeing only your faces and the way Jin’s nails dug into your neck. He pushed you forward so that your chin was on the countertop. You coughed out, watching as he resumed his thrusts, punishing your clit with the jarring movements of his fingers. 

You screamed, pleasure crashing over you in a wave of tantalizing heat. You gushed onto his cock, tears falling from your eyes due to how overwhelming the sensation was. Jin continued to whisper filth right into your ears but you could no longer hear anything. Your vision became hazy, not minding the blow when Jin shoved you back onto the floor and pounded you to his own release.

On the other side of the wall, Namjoon leaned his head back and sighed, glancing down to see his cock in his hands, now completely covered in cum.

-

Taehyung chewed on his gum nonchalantly as he paced around the luxurious hotel, checking out all the fun features. The pool deck was nice, the lobby exquisite, and his favorite part, the cafe, smelt delicious. 

Yoongi had asked to meet him in his suite. On his way there he ran into you, and you knocked his breath away. He always thought you were beautiful, but tonight you looked elegant. It was such a surprising contrast to your usual getup, but you looked amazing. He was about to tell you just that when he finally registered the hurt look in your eyes.

“You liar” You slapped him with everything you had. Taehyung backed away in surprise. “How could you use me like that? Over and over again. I trusted you. You were really the only one I thought had my back. Without a fucking doubt” You lunged towards him for another hit but Taehyung held your wrist firmly.

“What are you talking about? When did I use you?” Taehyung looked around frantically, “Calm down okay, let’s go somewhere and talk this through.” Your eyes flared in anger. 

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down! You’re gonna kill them!” You screamed. Taehyung squinted, noticing the slight redness in your eyes. He sighed in understanding, pulling you by the wrist into a corridor. 

“Y/n. Breathe. Tell me what’s going on” Taehyung attempted to calm you down but you were enraged. “And what the fuck are you on?”

Admittedly, you and Jin had ended up doing many more lines of coke, perhaps even molly, you were no longer sure, but you washed it down with the bottle of gin, finding it unprecedentedly hilarious that Jin liked to drink gin martinis. 

“You used me! To fuck with Jimin! And Yoongi! You lied to me! Everything you said was a fucking lie, everything you did, every stupid word that came out of your stupid mouth was a lie! You just want power. You’re selfish, and...and...you’re gonna KILL them” A dramatic gasp left your lips, Taehyung almost laughed, “You’re gonna kill Yoongi. I...I can’t let you do that”

You pulled out your gun, cocking it and pressing it against Taehyung’s chest. He instantly put his hands up. “Y/n. Y/n stop. That’s not true okay you’re not thinking straight. Don’t do something you’ll regret”

Your hands trembled around the gun “You’ll kill them. You’ll kill them both...I can’t let you do that”

“Hold on!”

Too late. You pulled the trigger.

-

Hobi wandered through the parking lot looking for his car. His eyes narrowed on a familiar vehicle, thinking back to when he had loaded the drug money from the last fight. 

So. Is that guy Yoongi then? The one I kept seeing? Hobi wandered over to the car. Peering inside the passenger window, his eyes locked on a small item on the floor of the car. He squinted to read it, it appeared to be some sort of credit card.

He stepped back, realizing what the name on the card was. He glanced around before taking the end of his gun and ramming it into the door handle. The door creaked open, allowing Hobi to swipe the card up. He slid it into his pocket, before hurriedly returning to the hotel. 

-

Namjoon’s eyes widened as he watched you pull a gun out on Taehyung. He had been thoroughly entertained as you yelled and slapped him, knowing full well that you were high out of your mind. 

Namjoon couldn’t understand Jin’s plan at all. He had eavesdropped on everything so far, as per Yoongi’s orders. Why would Jin ask you to kill Taehyung, why wouldn’t he just do it himself? He knew you would hate yourself if you actually killed him. 

He had also been thoroughly disappointed at how easily Jungkook had bought into Jin’s agenda as well. The things people do for money. Namjoon sighed, realizing that he was pretty much acting on similar motivations. 

You were ready to pull the trigger, and Namjoon was almost certain you wouldn’t do it, until he saw your finger begin to curl. He ran towards the corridor as fast as he could.

“Hold on!” He yelled, but it was too late. Taehyung’s eyes flew shut.

Namjoon blinked, not hearing the familiar gunshot sound. You looked equally confused, glancing down the barrel of your gun. Taehyung let out a shaky sigh of relief, sliding down the wall.

“It...was a blank” You mumbled. Namjoon rushed to your side, pulling you away from Taehyung. “What the...what was I just about to do?” His heart clenched as your lips parted in shock.

“Taehyung are you okay?” Namjoon asked. Taehyung nodded, clearly shaken up but managing to get a hold of himself. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He growled, “Who gave her a gun? And who gave her drugs while she had a gun? Fucking hell”

Namjoon stroked your back as you let the gun drop to the floor, the weight of your actions finally hitting you. 

“I’m so sorry. Taehyung I...” You looked into his eyes. Those eyes that always left you questioning what was really going on in that pretty head of his. 

“Yeah. Jin fucking fed her some interesting stories about how you’re using her. At least I hope they’re just stories” Namjoon peered at him. “I’m Namjoon by the way, we haven’t officially met”

Taehyung shook his hand “Hi Namjoon. I heard you make pretty decent music” He chuckled ironically, “Y/n, I need you to tell me everything Jin said. There’s been some sort of misunderstanding, I promise you I wasn’t taking advantage of you.”

Namjoon made a face, exchanging a glance with you as you nodded slowly. Namjoon was not entirely sure he should believe Taehyung. He supposed it wouldn’t matter, when he knew that Yoongi was planning to kill Taehyung anyways. The more information he had, the better he could at least keep you out of trouble. 

P R E S E N T  D A Y--

Security escorted you and Jimin out immediately as the media broke into a frenzy trying to figure out what had happened. You had hoped your acting skills had convinced him. 

After Taehyung sobered you up slightly, the three of you had sat and schemed. Using everything the three of you knew, you were able to figure out that it really was Jin behind Jimin’s accident, your and Namjoon’s kidnapping, as well as Jungkook’s attempted murder. He was able to do all of this using Hobi’s help, but Hobi seemed not to know that he was receiving orders from Jin.

The question remained how and why. 

“I know you’re not going to believe me. So I have proof” Taehyung pulled his phone out, pulling up a recording of Jin tied up somewhere.

All I ask, is that when the dust settles, Y/n is mine. And I get to kill them. My way

You felt queasy seeing his earnest expression through the film. Namjoon’s jaw clenched, recognizing crazy when he saw it, wishing he could have knocked the guy’s brains out beforehand.

“Listen to me. This guy is dangerous. I don’t really understand why he’s doing all of this. He said he wanted to help me, but clearly there’s some other motive here. Otherwise he wouldn’t go behind my back.” Taehyung muttered.

“The only way to know what he wants is to see what he does next” Namjoon pitched in. 

You glanced between the two men, feeling weirdly relieved that you finally had some solid answers. Having Namjoon by your side after so long was the best thing you could ask for at the moment, and you clung to him, hands wrapped around his arm tightly. He thought it was cute.

“Let me fake my death. Let’s see what he does.”

The drivers took you and Jimin to the precinct. You looked around for Namjoon but he was nowhere to be seen. Your eyes met Jin’s briefly as he signed some paperwork. He winked at you.

“Can I have the body taken to get an autopsy report please?” You weren’t phased by this. Taehyung had said he had enough contacts to make it truly believable that he had died. Jimin’s face was void of emotion as he watched the stretcher go past with the body on it.

You left the hold on his hand, your blood running cold as the body nears you. It was loosely covered with a white sheet, but the arm hung out limply from the sight.

That watch. That’s his watch.

Jimin pressed his lips to the top of your head, sliding his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him “You okay babe?” 

“I...no yeah, I’m just shocked” You stammered. You looked up at him, allowing him to place a loving kiss on your lips.

Jimin felt for you, he really did. He himself was generally an emotional person, it was not something he ever tried to hide. But he always felt like his emotional energy was valuable. He didn’t feel the need to cry. Not for Taehyung.

Jimin stroked your back softly, “It’s scary, I know. I know baby, but don’t worry” He licked his lips, eyes briefly meeting Hobi’s from across the room. Hobi gave him a knowing look.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all be over soon”

ᐊ——[ previous ] series navi | masterlist | [ next ]——ᐅ

a/n: WOOHOOO. the fun is really gonna start now. did you miss yoongi? don’t worry, he’ll be back. drop your theories in my asks! who killed taehyung? what’s jin’s deal? 

smut pairs are up for next week! poor oc, she really needs to eat some food. yikes.

see you then & thanks for reading <3 happy juneteenth! 

taglist: @imluckybitches @gee-nee @missseoulite @hcneybees @kooookie​ @queenmasterxx @crustycaitlin @virgo-and-libra @un2-verse @winter-melontea @equivocacies​ @infernal-alpaca @shrimpmsg @meowmeowyoongles @rjsmochii @liltangerined @littlrmills14-blog @issysor @arandomblackgirl @adoringinsanity @giadalin @jeontier @kaithezaftig @jinssexytoe @nonnis97@minyoongiboongi @happygirl62304 @just-me-and-myselfs @purplepebbles @channiespup @lilacdreams-00 @kianam @thmrdrs @kpoppin-mel @namjooningelsewhere @lolzerss @planetsope @ohmykim @xyahrinx @bangtan-army @you-are-my-wind

[fandomlit]

neutral, chap. 6 (dream smp x reader)

series summary (in game!au) when an exiled tommy finally rebels against a manipulative dream, he finds safety in neutral territory, a place owned and guarded by you. staying in your safe haven opens up the younger one’s eyes to your way of life, while also revealing your deeper past before neutral; a past that involved a war for your love.

chapter summary technoblade leaves the next morning, turning tommy and y/n back to their usual business of bow work and baking. but tommy lets his usual curiosity get the best of him and questions y/n about the war, leading to a solemn result and revealing some terrible truths.

warnings mentions of war, death, and murder

previous | series masterlist | next

gif cred belongs to @herobrine​

tommy woke up late the next morning, which he presumed was understandable. he had stayed up late last night talking with y/n and technoblade, watching as they laughed and reminisced about the past, enlightening tommy with old tales and teases. he appreciated that they had made sure to include him in the conversation, but he couldn’t help but feel.. invasive. the two were obviously very close..

that thought was only further proven to him when he made his way to the kitchen in the morning. he was met with the smooth sound of y/n humming, and when he peeked into the room, he saw her smiling as she braided back technoblade’s long hair. tommy didn’t speak a word, fearing interrupting the seemingly intimate moment.

but y/n, without looking up, had noticed him. “good morning, tommy.”

he cleared his throat, stepping fully into the kitchen. techno, who had had his eyes closed in peace, opened one to glance at the kid. “morning.”

“there are some berry muffins left warming in the oven if you’d like,” she hummed, still working intently on braiding the hybrid’s pink hair. tommy immediately perked up at the mention of food.

“berry muffins, you say?”

y/n smiled. “i’ll teach you to make them, if you’d like.”

tommy picked the remaining couple muffins out of the warm oven as he considered her words. “sure.”

“how much have ya learned to cook, tommy?” techno asked him as he took a bite out of the delicious muffin. tommy shrugged.

“not too much,” he answered. “i can make steak, potatoes, pork chops, cookies, and pumpkin pie. enough to hold my own, i think.” y/n nodded.

“well, that’s another thing you’re learnin’ from the best,” techno sighed, offering y/n his hairband as she reached the end of his long hair. “y/n’s a great cook.”

y/n just shrugged. “well, kinda back to our topic last night, it’s a nomad thing i picked up. you travel around so much, you learn a lot of different recipes from a lot of interesting people.”

“do you miss it?” tommy spoke through a mouthful of muffin.

“don’t speak with your mouth full, tommy,” she scolded with a laugh, placing her hands on techno’s broad shoulders after tying his hair. “but..” she shrugged. “sometimes. i miss all that i got to learn and experience, but i know i’ll find my way back out there one day. for right now, im satisfied staying here and helping people out. especially people with long, pink hair who can’t manage a tight braid to save their life.”

techno looked over his shoulder at her as tommy let out a loud laugh. “i know you’re jokin’, but that one hurt.” she laughed, squeezing his shoulders before moving away to pour tommy a glass of milk.

as tommy began to scarf down another muffin, technoblade checked the small, golden clock he kept in his pocket. “i should get goin’. i told phil i’d be back by sunrise tomorrow.”

“alright,” y/n nodded as she placed the glass of milk in front of tommy. the boy thanked her as technoblade stood from his seat. “your axe should be cooled by now, let me go check.” he nodded as she scurried out of the room.

there was a moment of awkward silence before tommy gulped down some milk and spoke, “so, how’s phil?”

“good,” techno spoke plainly. another awkward silence filled the bright kitchen.

“.. does he ever talk about me?”

techno didn’t even flinch. “yeah. a lot.”

tommy glanced up at the hybrid. “really?”

techno nodded, considering what to say as he tucked his hands into his pockets. “listen kid.. i know you’ve made this place a sort of home for ya, and that you and y/n have formed a close bond..” techno sighed. “but there’s gonna be a day where things catch up and you’re gonna have to leave neutral. that government ya made isn’t gonna leave ya alone, exiled or not. so when things do go wrong..” tommy gave techno a cautious look, but the piglin just nodded at him. “come find phil and i. we’ll take care of ya.” tommy’s heart immediately warmed. “maybe not as well as y/n, but it’ll be something.”

tommy nodded with a somber smile. as kind as techno’s words were, the thought of leaving neutral honestly hadn’t occurred to him in a while.

“thanks, techno,” he nodded. “i appreciate it.”

“‘course, kid.”

“alright,” y/n sighed as she came back into the kitchen. “one lukewarm netherite sword, and a fixed up netherite chest plate. and..” techno took the fixed materials from her as she walked over to her fridge, pulling out a bag. “enough food to last your journey. and a little longer, ‘cause i know phil likes my pie.”

“he does,” technoblade nodded, taking the bag from her hands. “thanks for everything, y/n.”

“of course,” she shrugged. “it’s what im here for.” he nodded with a small smile, and she held her arms out to him. tommy was surprised to watch techno accept her embrace, giving her a tight hug before pulling away and offering him a wave.

“i’ll see ya around, kid,” techno nodded.

“it was good seeing you, techno,” tommy smiled. and the piglin left.

...

“deep breath, tommy,” y/n reassured. his usual target had been moved back a couple more paces, increasing his usual struggle with aiming the bow. but he still did as instructed, taking a breath and relaxing his shoulders in the slightest before releasing the arrow he had drawn. it lodged itself to the left of the bullseye. “great shot!”

tommy grinned as he looked over to her. “im getting better.”

“and that’s all we can ask for,” y/n agreed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “come on, kid, let’s take a break. you’ve earned it.”

as they walked back into the kitchen, tommy inquired, “so where’d you learn to make the berry muffins?”

she laughed, retrieving a pitcher of water from the fridge. “it’s actually a recipe that niki and i made together. just, uh..” she thought as she poured them some water. “just a little before the war, i believe.” she pursed her lips as she placed his glass in front of him. he felt the previously light atmosphere begin to sink into something darker. more serious. “i suppose you know of the war by now.”

tommy shrugged. “i..” he raised his glass to his lips. “i know very little.”

he didn’t dare look up at her as she sat across from him at the kitchen table. “can i ask what you know?”

he finally looked up, seeing her eyes were as kind and patient as usual. for some reason, talking with her about the war seemed invasive. it felt intrusive; like he had walked into some personal part of her that he wasn’t supposed to discover. but looking into her eyes, tommy realized that they couldn’t avoid this conversation. the war was a part of her.

“technoblade and ghostbur told me a bit,” he admitted, his finger swirling around the rim of his glass to distract himself as he talked. “just that.. i know it was between alivebur, dream, and techno implied that there were more involved? techno told me that dream put out a claim on you, and everyone resisted that, including you, and then wilbur entered it to try and win you over, and..” he shrugged. “it ended with neutral. that’s all i know. really.”

y/n nodded. “i believe you. and you’ve got some of the more important details..” she took a long sip of her water. “the war was between dream, alivebur, and technoblade.” tommy’s eyes widened.

“technoblade?”

“yeah,” she nodded. “dream sent out a claim for me, wilbur stepped in and tried to claim me in return, and then techno stepped in to stop the both of them and convince me to go with him.”

“wow,” tommy whispered, taking a drink. he took in the new information before changing his curiosity. “what were the battles?”

“the first official fight was between dream and wilbur,” she answered. “then they both started to gain support from friends, and build miniature..” she considered. “i wouldn’t dignify them as armies, but i guess they were miniature armies. i remember they all eventually got tired of those and began to send each other duel challenges, but i actually managed to shut that down.” tommy nodded. “just because..” she shook her head, looking out of the kitchen window. her eyes had grown distant. “that was not worth losing a canon life over.”

“was that the only thing you managed to stop during the war?” tommy asked, his voice quieter than before. y/n considered.

“i think so,” she sighed. “it was just such a ridiculous war; it was somehow over me, and yet i didn’t get a single say in anything that happened. i-i’m not some blacksmith you can lay claim to and use whenever you need!” she spoke defensively. realizing she was exuding her frustration in the wrong place, she took a breath and looked back to tommy calmly. “they treated me like a possession that entire war, and i couldn’t do anything to stop them.”

“was there ever a winner?” tommy questioned. “i mean, the war stopped eventually.”

“i was the winner,” y/n spoke. “i proved to them that i wasn’t a piece of property to steal, that i have control over my own life and my own actions. and then i established neutral.”

“how’d you prove it to them?” tommy asked, and immediately y/n’s gaze dropped. after receiving no response, he spoke, “.. y/n?”

“i’d rather not talk about it,” she said, looking back up at tommy seriously. “to this day it’s not something that im proud of, but things are different in war.”

tommy nodded. after a moment of tense silence, he couldn’t help but ask, “did you kill someone?”

y/n stood abruptly and tommy’s heart nearly dropped at the sight of the tears forming in her eyes. he had crossed a line. but not only had he done that.. y/n had killed someone.

“i-im sorry, y/n,” he spoke, shaking his head. “i shouldn’t have-”

“it’s fine, tommy,” she whispered, wiping at the tears in her eyes. she quickly spoke, “let’s take the afternoon off, alright?”

he nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair. “alright.” 

he watched y/n sighed, dropping her hands tensely back to her sides as she voiced, “go relax.” she gave him one final nod before leaving the kitchen. he cringed when he heard her bedroom door whip shut, sighing as he looked to the empty kitchen surrounding him. 

technoblade, dream, and wilbur were all in love with y/n. or at least, had once been, and enough so that a war broke out for her heart. but as tommy considered what he had heard from y/n, he began to realize that the war may have began over y/n, but the boys became so blinded by their competition between each other that they allowed that love to turn to possession.

tag list <3 @vanhakirja @victory-is-here @inkyynki @airiour @sylum @kiritokunuwu @221bee-slytherin @bllatrixcarpnter @soullesstaco @stxrryb1tch @amibismexy @keiarma @akaichi-blog @runningoffofcaffeine @nonetookind @aquilla-favonia @feverish-dove @izuruamme @weeb-bb @bialin @justachillbisexual @kiritokunuwu @natalie-is-a-wall @woman-soot @boyleanti @nostalgic-writes @ahmya-4 @cryinqclouqs @littleliv5 @weeb-bb @truthdaze @dusky-purple-black @sadassflatass @dreamyteam​ @edgy-jim​ comment below or message me if you would like to be added <3

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 12)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 6,162

Summary: Following Javier’s phone call, a plan is hatched to move Horacio to safety. 

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Non-graphic references to injuries/pain, discussions of sexuality and coming out, discussions of parental loss and grief, swearing, some angst (but also lots of softness, with more still to come 🥺).   

Notes: I cannot tell you the relief to finally have this chapter done, phew! I don’t know if it’s because I’ve had this part of the plot in my head for nearly a year now and had to do quite a bit of research for it, but it was a tricky chapter that needed wrestling to the ground on several occasions 😂 Thank you so much to anyone still reading/commenting. The comments I’ve had since starting this fic a whole year ago have turned me into a grinning idiot and I love hearing what people think, so please feel free to come and chat either on Tumblr or AO3 😊 Chapter 13 is already in progress, so let’s see if it gives me an easier time lol. 

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 12: Breathing Space

By the time Javier returned to Horacio’s bedside, Trujillo had been called away on Search Bloc business, and Steve was on a coffee run. A fact that made Javier wish he’d had the foresight to brew a fresh pot on his way back, given the usual quality of his partner’s attempts.

“No.”

To be fair, that was the response Javier had been expecting. “At least think about it for a minute.”

“I did, and my answer is still no.”

“Well, what’s the alternative?”

“I don’t know, but there has to be something.”

“You know there isn’t.”

“I can’t risk putting your family in danger, Javier.”

Our, Javier automatically – and much to his relief, silently – corrected. “You really think they’d try anything over the border?” He stopped short of mentioning extradition, not wanting to re-open that particular can of worms. Even if he remained confident that most narcos would do just about anything to avoid jail time northward of the Rio Grande. “As far as they’re concerned, there’s no reason to suspect you’d be in Laredo. It’s our safest option. Plus, I’d be coming with you.” He casually dropped that nugget of information; optimistic he’d saved his winning move for last.

“What?”

“No point sticking around here watching from the fucking side-lines whilst these heal.” He looked down towards his torso. “And whilst the ink dries on our visa revocations,” he added with a scoff.

“Won’t Messina and your other bosses have something to say about all of this?”

“What? About me visiting my old man whilst suspended from work? I wasn’t planning on clueing them in on the rest, funnily enough.” Not that Javier imagined they’d be losing much sleep over Horacio’s whereabouts. In their eyes, he was the Colombians’ problem. The DEA had been eager for Javier and Steve to distance themselves from him long before the ambush. And now a more palatable replacement was set to take over, they would most likely think of it as a savvy PR move.

Horacio sighed, unsure if he was more irritated by such a persuasive argument or the speed at which his resolve crumbled once Javier had played the ultimate ace. “Did you tell your father everything?”

Although they’d never spoken much of their family histories or the parallels between their lives, Horacio knew it was just Javier’s dad back in Texas. A thought that made him thankful his own mother at least had his sister’s family for company in Colombia. Not that they were any wiser about his and Javier’s relationship.

It wasn’t the sort of development you put in a letter or mentioned during a brief phone call. It had been hard enough explaining his redeployment to Madrid and the events of the last 24 hours. They were aware he was taking time off to recover from his injury at a classified location but were in the dark beyond that for their own safety. And Horacio couldn’t deny it had the added benefit of making his life easier for the time being.

“Yeah. Well, everything he needs to know.”

“Right.” Just as Horacio thought, then. “Are you okay with that?”

“Well, I could hardly tell him the rest over the fucking phone, could I?”

“I know, but are you prepared for him asking questions?”

“It’s gonna happen sooner or later, right?” The uncertainty was as plain on Javier’s face as it was in his words. This was new territory and, up until Horacio, he’d never envisaged the need for such conversations.

Horacio’s hand slid across the bedsheet and found its way into Javier’s, instinctively slotting their fingers together with gentle ease, like it was as natural as breathing. “Only if you’re ready.”

Javier met Horacio’s gaze with the crooked curl of his lips and a soft exhale through his nose. It was the only response he could muster to what seemed like an unfathomable concept. What did ready even mean, anyway? Was anyone ever really ready for this? Had he been ready for half of the shit that had happened in the last few years?

Instead of spiralling any further down that road, he lifted their intertwined hands to his mouth, nudging the scratch of his moustache back and forth along Horacio’s knuckles. “Let’s just get you there in one piece first.” An undertaking kissed into his skin, settling their shared apprehension, even if temporarily.

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

It had taken the calling in of several longstanding favours with the Colombian Military – particularly the current Air Force General with whom Horacio had shared off the record intel and several glasses of whiskey – to agree to transport Horacio as far as an airbase just outside San Antonio. From there, they’d need to pick up a vehicle to get them to Laredo.

News of the ambush would travel fast amongst those with vested interests in bringing down Escobar. But since the beginning of the war on drugs, the Colombians had regularly used American training facilities during manoeuvres. Providing details of the plan were strictly on a need-to-know-basis amongst those they could trust, and they didn’t linger upon arrival at the airbase, they were unlikely to attract suspicion from their U.S. counterparts. Or from any personnel who were no more immune to corruption than the CNP.

The main outstanding issue was moving Horacio in his current condition, given he shouldn’t have even left the hospital yet, never mind be flying anywhere. Nor could they risk drawing attention to themselves by using medical facilities once they were in the states.

“What about medical staff from here? Can they spare anyone to tag along?” Javier queried once Steve and Trujillo had returned, running his thumb across his top lip whilst he subconsciously paced around the perimeter of Horacio’s bed.

“Probably not with the number of injuries sustained in the ambush. They’re gonna be run off their feet over the next few days.” Trujillo exchanged a look with Javier from across the room, where he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Few knew better than him what an occupational hazard working for the CNP was in Escobar’s Colombia. And this was just another in a long list of atrocities.

“Wait a minute – one nurse would be enough, right?” Steve asked, suddenly sitting up from the lazy, feline recline he’d adopted in a plastic chair that was too low to the ground for a man of his height.

“Steve, no. You can’t ask her.” Javier had stopped pacing, although not before getting a step ahead of his partner.

“But she wants to help. She was going stir crazy in Miami, and her sister’s willing to have Olivia for a bit longer. If we both tagged along, we could head back home once Carrillo’s on the mend. Beats sittin’ round here whilst we’re out of action.”

“I can’t ask you to drag Connie into this. You’ve already done enough. We’ll figure something out.”

“Javi, for fuck’s sake, let us help!” The exasperation was evident in Steve’s raised tone and the deep sigh he heaved as his head dropped into his hands. He continued after a pause of awkward silence; his voice more measured this time. “You don’t always have to do everything alone. You know she’s a damn good nurse. He’d be in safe hands, I promise.”

The notion that he didn’t have faith in Connie’s ability as a nurse triggered a wave of guilt to wash over Javier. That wasn't what his reservations were about at all. No, it was his track record of hurting those he cared about that was playing on his mind. But setting his own feelings to one side for a second, he had to admit Connie was the ideal person for the job.

He worked his jaw back and forth several times, mulling over Steve’s proposal and turning to Horacio for reassurance or permission; he wasn’t sure which. A vague nod that could have been either – or both – was enough to make Javier finally accept defeat, though. “Okay, fine. If you’re sure she’s willing, let’s do it.”

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

Now that the details were agreed and time was of the essence, the wheels were swiftly set in motion. Horacio, Javier and Steve were to board a helicopter to the Colombian Military base in Bogotá where they were meeting Connie. And from there, they would fly onwards to San Antonio.

Whilst the pilot carried out pre-flight checks and, Javier and Steve fetched supplies for the journey, Trujillo ensured Horacio’s stretcher was secured in place in the helicopter. “I think you’re all good to go now, Colonel.”

“Thank you, Trujillo.” He hesitated for a moment, adjusting himself on the stiff canvas evidently built more for practicality than comfort. “Have the families been contacted yet?” Of course, he had to ask. It had been weighing heavy on his mind since he’d woken up, perhaps a force of habit seen as it was a job that usually fell under his remit.

“Yes, Colonel. There’s to be a memorial service next week once – once your replacement has arrived.”

The thought of not being able to pay his respects to the men he’d lost on his watch – those he had failed to protect – was as painful a blow as the wound on Horacio’s shoulder. Even though he accepted he had no choice, it still felt cowardly and selfish to be running away and hiding like this. It went against his natural instincts when so many others never even had the option. “Right, of course. Any more news on Martínez?”

“Just that it looks like Gaviria is going to try talk him into it.” Trujillo’s gaze had dropped to the floor at the mention of a replacement, and he was now studying the scuffed toe of his boot with great interest.

Horacio gave a wry smile. “I’m sure he’ll find a way. Martínez won’t be what you’re all used to, but he’s good at what he does.”

“Do you think it’ll be enough, Colonel?”

“I don’t know. It never was before. It’s possible someone else might attempt to fill the gap, though. We’re not Pablo’s only enemies. So, just be careful and keep yourself safe.”

“Yes, Colonel. But if I get a shot at him, make no mistake, I’m taking it.” He raised his head, his eyes now meeting Horacio’s head-on with steely determination.

Horacio couldn’t and didn’t want to argue with that, so he gave a swift, firm nod of approval.

A shout from the ground indicated they were about ready to depart. “I think that’s my cue to leave.”

“Before you go…” Horacio trailed off, unsure how to phrase what he was about to say or why he felt the need to say it at all.

“Yes, Colonel?”

“Javier. If he ends up back here, and things get rough…”

“I’ll keep an eye on him. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Trujillo. And don’t be a stranger.”

“Don’t worry, the drinks are on you once you’re back on your feet, and this is all over.” Trujillo threw a smirk over his shoulder as he climbed out of the chopper.

Even as he walked away, Trujillo didn’t miss the huff of a chuckle from Horacio despite himself and something that sounded very much like Cheeky fucker muttered under his breath.

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

Their arrival in San Antonio passed without incident, and a car was ready and waiting for them as expected. Steve offered to take on driving duties, with Connie sitting upfront, leaving Javier and Horacio to rest in the back.

So far, Horacio had remained stable but drowsy from regular doses of pain relief. Although, now that his last dosage had worn off and he was forced to sit upright, a dull throb had taken hold in his shoulder. With nothing to be done until Laredo, he settled for deep breaths and the soothing touch of Javier’s fingers over his left hand; the tightening of his grip the only obvious tell of his discomfort.

Javier wasn’t faring much better with exhaustion and the added pressure of a seat belt resting over his tender ribs. But he was trying to stay awake just in case he was needed for navigation purposes once they neared Laredo. It had been a long time since he had driven on these roads, but as the hours passed, his muscle memory kicked in.

Mile after mile of endless farmland whizzed by as they sped along the highway. In the height of summer, the ground was arid and sun-scorched, but the heavy rainfall from the last couple of months had quenched the soil and left a carpet of green in its wake. After years spent in the cooler Bogotá climate, Javier was glad his return here came in November. It would make for more comfortable nights, which was an appealing prospect when all he wanted to do was lie down – preferably with Horacio – and rest for the foreseeable.

Despite his best efforts, he could feel his head beginning to nod and his eyes starting to droop. They passed a diner where he celebrated his eighth and ninth birthdays, and apart from a fresh lick of paint, it didn’t look any different. That was always the discombobulating part of being back here. It was frozen in time in so many ways, yet, everything around it had fundamentally changed, including Javier himself.

He wasn't sure if it was the quiet murmur of chatter between Steve and Connie mixed with the lull of Spanish voices on the radio that reminded him of long car journeys with his parents. Or perhaps it was just recent events catching up with him. But his head slumped against the window, and his eyelids finally gave way to slumber.

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

It was late into the evening when they pulled up in front of the large steel gates drawn closed at the foot of the ranch. Once Steve cut the engine, it became clear why they were shut when a cacophony of barking could be heard instead.

Javier went ahead of the others, the cool night air shocking his senses awake again after his accidental nap. He slipped behind the gate, the barks of alarm mellowing into whines of recognition as he greeted the furry welcoming party like the old friends they were. He hadn’t been back in far too long, but it was oddly reassuring to know he wasn’t forgotten by those whose unwavering loyalty meant they would never judge him.

Not being able to crouch to the ground made it trickier than usual to extract himself from the excitable clambering of paws and warm, sloppy licks to his hands. But the dogs seemed to pick up on his stiff body language and soon backed off. Or maybe they’d sensed the familiar presence appear behind them in the shadow of the floodlight that had flicked on at the sudden movement.

Javier’s attention was drawn away from the dogs to the shadow. “Hey, Pops.”

“Javi.” They both moved in for a hug, forgetting Javier’s injury for a second, but compromised instead with a handshake and light pats on the back. “How was the journey? Everything go to plan?”

“Long, tiring. But yeah. Yeah, it did.”

“Good. You look like you need a drink, though.”

Javier couldn’t take offence at that, as even in this limited light, he knew he must have looked like shit. “Wouldn’t say no to one.”

“Well, let’s get your friends in first, then we’ll see what we can do.” Chucho was already peering curiously at the car parked on the other side of the gate before stepping past Javier and hooking it back to let Steve drive through.

A winding dirt track led up to a small complex of buildings with a courtyard in between the main farmhouse and two adjoined guesthouses that were sometimes rented out by holidaymakers or used by seasonal workers during busy periods on the ranch. Luckily, they had been sat empty for the last couple of months due to a particularly heavy spell of rainfall and storms, plus a last-minute cancellation or two.

Once Steve had parked up, Chucho was waiting to greet them.

“Dad, this is Steve Murphy – my partner – and his wife, Connie. Guys, this is Chucho.”

Chucho held out his hand to each of them in turn. “Pleasure to meet you both at long last.”

“Likewise. Impressive place you’ve got here,” Steve observed, nodding emphatically with approval as his gaze danced around the complex.

The canine welcoming committee had returned and latched themselves onto Connie, who was knelt on the floor as they fussed around her. “It really is, and these guys are adorable!”

“Thank you. These two are Sol and Leo.” Chucho pointed to two black and white Border Collies who were currently playfighting at Connie’s feet in a battle for her attention. “And this one is Luna.” This time he gestured to a majestic looking Great Pyrenees with a white and grey mixed coat. She hung back more than Sol and Leo, but still sniffed at Connie’s hand with great interest. “She’s a tougher nut to crack than the others, but she seems to like you.”

Meanwhile, Javier did his best to help Horacio out of the car. Although the pointed look directed his way suggested Horacio didn’t appreciate the assistance in the circumstances and was determined to push himself upwards with a stifled groan instead.

No sooner had Horacio extracted himself from the car, than Chucho’s attention shifted in his direction. “And I take it this must be Horacio?”

“Erm yeah, that’s right, Pops.” Javier’s mouth was suddenly devoid of all moisture and he couldn’t quite meet his father’s eye. He quickly cleared his throat, desperate to get a fucking grip of himself before anyone noticed his awkwardness. “Horacio, this is my dad, Chucho.”

“Pleased to meet you, Señor Peña.” Despite his less-than-graceful entrance, it was as though a switch flicked in a matter of seconds. Horacio confidently held out his left hand and grasped Chucho’s with the same professionalism he had done when meeting the likes of Gaviria for the first time. “And thank you – for everything. I’m sorry to intrude like this.” He was doing much better than Javier so far, it seemed.

“Please, call me Chucho. And well, it’s one way to get my son to visit me, at least,” he quipped, making a point of side-eyeing Javier. “Let’s get you more comfortable and find you something to eat. You all must be starving.”

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

Officially, Steve and Connie took one of the guesthouses, whilst Horacio took the other, leaving Javier to become reacquainted with his old bedroom in the main farmhouse. It gave everyone their own space, plus Connie and her medical supplies were close by for Horacio whenever required.

Unofficially, of course, Javier had other ideas. He waited until Chucho had passed around hearty bowls of homemade sopa de fideo. After making large batches for the ranch staff – particularly in the colder months – it had become his speciality dish. 

Everyone had been quick to disperse to bed once sleeping arrangements were agreed, so when the coast was clear, Javier discreetly made his way across the courtyard. If it wasn't for his ribs, he would have laughed at the absurdity of sneaking around like this, especially at his age, but then again, needs must. For now, at least.

The guesthouses, much like the main farmhouse, were a mix of limestone and wooden beams, and with it being a working ranch, the interior erred towards the rustic. Each property had a master bedroom with a double bed, plus an additional bunk room and bathroom. Paintings of the local landscape and photos of prize-winning cattle and horses reared on the ranch adorned the walls, along with a trademark set of horns hung over the fireplace in the centre of a combined living/kitchen area. Javier had often rolled his eyes at how clichéd the whole thing was, but it was the authentic experience tourists signed up for.

By the time Javier arrived, Connie had given Horacio more pain relief and attached an antibiotic drip as a precaution. Horacio was already dozing in bed, elevated by a stack of pillows, but soon stirred once he felt the mattress dip next to him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s fine. I did try stay awake.” Horacio’s voice was fuzzy with fatigue, but he was determined to finish the conversation before fully giving into it.

“You need to rest. Don’t worry about anything else right now, okay?” It was awkward given their injuries, but Javier did his best to lean against Horacio’s left shoulder. He placed a kiss to Horacio’s temple and ran the pad of his thumb in soothing circles where their hands joined under the duvet. As he relaxed into the solid warmth next to him, he let out a long sigh he was pretty sure he’d been holding in since they had left Carlos Holguín.

“Well, you did it.” Horacio tilted his head to the left, connecting with Javier’s. He’d never wanted to wrap himself so thoroughly around someone, but that would have to wait for another day and this would have to suffice for now.

“I think you’ll find it was a team effort. Although now you mention it, it was my idea.” A weary smirk crossed Javier's face, but his eyes stayed closed as he decompressed and digested the events of the last couple of days.

“Of course. You never told me that charm of yours was a family trait.”

“You never asked.” There it was again, only this time accompanied by the teasing scratch of facial hair against Horacio’s neck. “Oh, and speaking of, Señor Peña?”

“What’s wrong with that? I’d just met the guy!” Despite the incredulity that had sprung into Horacio’s voice, he didn’t have the energy to lift his head from its resting spot against Javier’s.

“Nothing, it’s just you’re so fucking formal.”

“Am I?”

“You’re the only person to exclusively call me Javier since I was at school, for a start.”

“What can I say? You’ve always felt more like a Javier than a Javi to me.”

“Never said it was a bad thing.”

That was the last comment either of them remembered the other saying as they succumbed to the rest their bodies and minds had been crying out for. Not just since the ambush, but for weeks, months, years. It was a cumulative burnout catching up with them, one that couldn’t possibly be fixed in a night, a week or even a month, but it was a start.

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

Javier couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in his childhood bedroom. Even prior to moving away for work, he’d taken up residence in one of the guesthouses. Which was where he’d snuck out unnoticed at the first sign of sunrise that morning, reluctantly leaving Horacio fast asleep in favour of avoiding questions he wasn’t ready to answer yet. He always figured it was close enough to nip across the yard to the main farmhouse for food and drink supplies when his own stash ran dry. But far enough away so his dad couldn’t hear what he got up to with anyone he invited home with him.

Early dawn light trickled through the curtains and drew Javier’s eye to the sun-faded snapshots of his past that whispered like ghosts from the corner of the room. His graduation certificate sat alongside an old family photo taken at a cousin’s quinceañera. Rounding everyone up to pose for it in the first place had been a challenge, not helped by him and several other children hiding in the stables passing round a bottle of tequila. A couple of swigs was all it took for Javier to turn green and lose the contents of his stomach in the horses’ feeding trough, much to the delight of his cousins. To this day, they still relished in recounting every detail of that story whenever their paths crossed.

He also remembered that day well, as it was one of the last few pictures taken of his mother. Of course, you couldn’t tell from the photo, as she tried to hide her illness as much as possible, even when everyone knew. They all went to great lengths not to talk about it when Javier was present too, but he was a child; he wasn’t stupid. He picked up on all of the hushed conversations. The tears wiped hastily away on the backs of hands or sleeves, and the sad, pitying smiles from older relatives who already viewed him as a half-orphan. He learnt more about human behaviour and reading body language in that period of his life than any Psychology or Sociology course could ever have taught him.

A knock roused him from his thoughts, a welcome relief to what was rapidly turning into a painful walk down memory lane. “Come in.” His vocal cords were still thick with sleep and long overdue their first caffeine fix of the day.

Almost as though he had read his son’s mind, the door opened with a creak to reveal Chucho armed with a large mug and already dressed for work, Stetson included. The restorative aroma of coffee quickly drifted into the bedroom, and there was something strangely nostalgic to Javier about the situation.

“Did you manage to sleep okay?” Chucho asked as he perched on the edge of the bed and handed the mug to Javier once he’d propped himself up against the headboard with a wince and a grunt.

“Yeah, I did, thanks.” Javier immediately took a sip despite it being far too hot to drink yet. A much easier alternative than elaborating on the main reason for his good night’s sleep.

“You never could wait for it to cool down. Even when you were small, and your mother warned you not to burn yourself, you wouldn’t listen.”

Javier huffed faintly, sending a trail of steam across the rim of the mug held up to his mouth. “I remember. But I’m a big boy now, Pops. I think I can manage.”

“Are you sure about that, Mijo?”

It was far too early for riddles and metaphors. So, Javier rolled his eyes and continued to make his way through his drink until Chucho was forced to change the subject.

“I need to tend to the horses and run a few errands in town. I take it you’ll all be alright without me for a few hours?”

“Yeah, sure, do whatever you need to do. Have you, er, seen any of the others yet this morning?” Javier aimed for casual curiosity but was quite sure he missed the mark.

“Connie’s in the kitchen. She was taking some coffee to Steve and had just checked on Horacio, who apparently had a good night by all accounts. He’s lucky to have friends like you. To do all of this for him. Not many would.”

“Glad to hear it. And er, yeah, well, he’d do the same for me.” Javier hid behind his mug once again, fearing he’d said too much and given himself away even with such a short sentence. He hoped the gulping noise he made as he swallowed wasn’t as loud as it sounded in his head. Although to be on the safe side, he ploughed on in a bid to cover it up. “Listen, I, er, just wanted to say thank you. For letting us all stay here like this.”

“You’re my son, Javi. You’ll always have a home here.” Chucho stood up from the bed and softly squeezed Javier’s shoulder before making his exit to give the horses their morning feed. An air of unanswered questions lingered between them. But if anyone knew when to back off and let Javier exercise his right to remain silent, it was Chucho.

Javier wondered if that sentiment would remain true if Chucho knew the whole truth. It was one thing to suspect your teenage son of experimenting with his best friend when they were little more than raging hormone bombs. But it was quite another to be introduced to the man your adult son was in a serious relationship with. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to reveal the latter just yet, or if he ever would be.

He downed the dregs of his coffee and made his way to the bathroom, every sharp movement still requiring slow, deep breaths. As expected, the bruising was even angrier now, and the jets of water from the shower faucet were like pinpricks to his chest. Once dressed, he headed for the kitchen to find Connie still at the table making a fresh pot of coffee.

“Oh hey, you’re up. Want another?” Connie gestured to the empty mug in Javier’s hand.

“Morning. And very much so, thanks,” Javier replied, holding out his cup to be refilled. “Steve still in bed?” Like he even needed to ask given the number of times he’d left his partner snoring away in his bunk back at Carlos Holguín.

“How ever did you guess? I think the drive took it out of him. How you feeling anyway? Were you able to get any sleep?”

“I’m alright, better for those painkillers you gave me, so thanks for that. And yeah, I went out like a light for a change. How’s—is he—have you—” Whatever he was aiming for, it certainly wasn’t that.

“He’s doing okay,” Connie cut in, her eyes softening further as she understood what Javier was attempting to ask. “I changed his dressing about an hour ago. I’m not sure he knew I was there as he was still asleep, but everything looks as it should at this stage. And don’t worry about the fatigue; it’s perfectly normal post-surgery. Even more so when you’ve just flown a few thousand miles against medical advice.” She couldn’t resist a stern look at Javier. Although there was no real annoyance in her scolding.

“Thanks, Connie. And thanks for coming here. You and Steve really didn’t have to do all this.”

“I’m here because I want to be, Javi, and so is Steve. After everything you did for him when he was…well, you know. It’s the least we can do.” Now it was Connie’s turn to hesitate. “He, er, told me what happened. I swear I didn’t tell him anything. We both just figured it out separately.”

Javier nodded as he got his head around the abrupt change of subject, working his way through his second coffee much like the first. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t know for sure until the day Steve went missing. But I’d had a hunch for a while. There were a few things he said during his petty rants about the two of you going off without him. Of course, he thought it was all about how you obviously didn’t trust him,” she laughed with a roll of her eyes, “but it never added up to me. And then, do you remember that Embassy Christmas dinner a few years back?”

“Vaguely. I think Steve and I handled being forced to attend by making good use of the free bar.”

“That’s the one, and oh, you absolutely did. You could barely walk by the end of the night. I was about ready to leave you both there to sober up when along came my Knight in shining armour. Well, Colonel in dress uniform anyway.” Connie couldn’t resist a wink now she was in full flow of her story.

“What?”

“You don’t remember? He offered to drive us all home and helped you into your apartment.”

“No, I don’t remember that at all.” Horacio always hated those bullshit functions, so Javier was surprised he even turned up in the first place. “Fuck, I really must have been drunk.” As he laughed, a warmth spread through him at being given a new piece of his and Horacio’s history that he hadn’t even been aware of. History that happened long before Tolú yet made complete sense in hindsight.

“Oh, you were. I don’t think I saw Steve until late afternoon the day after. But yeah, there was always something about you two.”

“Did Steve – did he say anything? When he found out you knew, I mean.”

“I think his pride was a little wounded because Mr Big Shot DEA Agent didn’t work it out before his wife.” She paused to allow them both a moment to indulge in a shared joke at the expense of her husband. “But other than that, not really. He cares about you, Javi. We both do. We just want you to be happy.” She took a long sip of her coffee and placed the mug back down. “And I’m sure your dad wants the same thing too.”

Javier wasn’t sure what to say to that. But luckily for him, Connie clocked the flashes of panic in his eyes at the mention of his father. She reached across the table and lightly squeezed his hand with her own, allowing him to reciprocate in a silent gesture of thanks instead.

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

It was mid-afternoon by the time Horacio woke. His bleary eyes squinted at the low sun clinging to the edges of the sky and curtains, along with a thick layer of dust that exposed how unused the place had been lately.

He needed a moment to notice Javier lying next to him, a lazy curve of the lips taking hold as they drank each other in.

“Hey,” Horacio rasped. He was still groggy and grateful for the glass of water held out for him to sip from as he slowly came round.

“Hey yourself, Sleeping Beauty.” It raised a huff of amusement from them both, although there was undeniable beauty in witnessing Horacio like this. In how relaxed his jaw and facial muscles were for a change. In the way his long lashes delicately fluttered like a butterfly’s wings whenever he stirred. In the steady rise and fall of his broad chest, as predictable as the tide drifting in and out. Waves gently lapping around them for once rather than submerging and drowning, reminding Javier how peaceful sleep was supposed to be.

“What time is it?”

“Just after two.”

“Shit. You should’ve woken me.”

“Why, you got somewhere to be?”

“Very funny. I just don’t like sleeping through the day, that’s all.” It wasn’t something Horacio had ever indulged in, even throughout his teenage years. There hadn’t been much opportunity for lounging in bed on weekends, with Sundays reserved almost exclusively for church and family gatherings. Whilst Saturdays were often spent shadowing his father. Whether it was learning maintenance skills around the house, or being taken to his workplace to be given a “head start”; Horacio had a strong work ethic instilled in him from an early age.

“I think it might be allowed when you’re recovering from major surgery. How you feeling?”

“Annoyingly exhausted despite how much I’ve slept.”

“Connie said that’s normal after surgery, so nothing to worry about. You should eat and drink something to keep your strength up, though. There’s plenty of leftovers from last night.”

“Sounds good, thanks.”

“Pops has taken the others on a guided tour.” Javier gave an affectionate roll of his eyes at the thought of Chucho in his element. By the end of it, his friends would know their Quarter Horses from their Arabians. And their Santa Gertrudis from their Brahmans, whether they wanted to or not. Even once it became clear Javier wasn’t likely to follow in his father’s footsteps, these were facts still embedded deep in his long-term memory. “But Connie will be dropping by later to check up on you.”

“Right.” It didn’t take long for the tension to re-emerge on Horacio’s face now he was awake. A shift that didn’t go unnoticed by Javier.

“What is it?”

“What you’re all doing for me, it’s…beyond what I deserve. I don’t want to be a burden on anyone, Javier.”

“Hey, come on, you know it’s not like that. You had no choice but to leave.” With laboured effort, Javier shifted closer to Horacio and leaned over him as carefully as he could manage. “So, this isn’t about being a burden.” He broke off to place slow, tender kisses on his lips and forehead. “It’s about keeping you alive,” he finished, nuzzling their noses together like a pair of purring cats.

It was another half an hour before they finally left the bed in search of food. Not that either man was in a fit state for anything physical beyond kissing at the moment. A fact that infuriated and frustrated them almost as much as the injuries themselves. But being alone together like this, with time and space to heal, to catch their breath and to close their eyes each night without the imminent threat of violence on the horizon, was more than enough for now. Despite the horror that had led them here, their newfound respite was a luxury to be savoured and they fully intended to make the most of it whilst they had the chance.

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒘𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 2

Part 1

Hiii I don't know if you take request but can i request like a chris evans x reader like the reader and chris are married and chris is having a bad day or something so chris go out to the pub and go home drunk and its been going for 3 days and the reader and chris has a 6year old and the reader have been doing all the work and taking care of they're daughter and they're daughter miss chris bc chris is never home and just go home until 12 or 2 in the morning or if chris is home he never play with her daughter and they're daughter is sad abt it bc they're daughter though chris doesn't love her anymore and chris miss her play in school even though chris promise so that day when chris miss her daughter's play the reader confront chris abt it and chris said he doesn't care abt his daughter and he said he didn't know why he married the reader bc she's clingy but chris didn't know that they're daughter heard what chris said abt her and chris didn't know also that the reader is 6-7 weeks pregnant and the reader and chris heard they're daughter sob and that moment chris realize it all his mistakes? and apologize to them idk if this make sense and im sorry if this is so longg, thank you in advance stay safe! <3

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒄𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓, 𝒅𝒂𝒅! 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔

𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕

Chris paced back and forth as he tried to call you for the 10th time. It was the next day, he was sober and the images from last night clouded his brain. Seeing the pain and anger on your face as he said he wish he never married you.

Seeing isabella crying from his disgusting words. That hurt him the most, he regret everything.

The phone went to voicemail again making Chris groan. You had every right to not talk to you, but he wanted to know you and isabella was okay. You were still his wife.

Chris sighed sitting down on the couch. He rubbed his eyes with his palm, exhaling for the hundredth time.

The house phone on the table beside the couch rung causing Chris to quickly grab it. He thought it was you but no, it was your doctor.

"hi is this Mrs Evans?" Chris frowned, "uh no but this is Mr Evans." Chris said, he was deeply confused.

"oh well you tell Mrs Evans that have her next appointment date to check on the baby."

Chris stood up, he wasn't sure he heard right. "I'm sorry, the baby?"

The innocence lady on the other side of the phone phone gasped, "oh I'm sorry, you didn't know."

"no it's fine." Chris sighed softly, his heart picking up speed in his chest. "I'll tell her, thank you." He hung up the phone throwing it onto the couch. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He mumbled to himself. He really needed to find you and isabella.

*

You laid in the uncomfortable bed, isabella sleeping soundly beside you. It was around 8 in the morning and thoughts from yesterday filled your mind.

"I wish I never married you"

"Forget isabella, I don't care about her stupid play"

It hurt just knowing he thought those things. It took some time last night, but you managed to go to sleep around 3am. Now it was morning time, you were in a crappy hotel, and Chris was blowing up your phone like crazy.

You sighed pulling back the blanket. You walked to the bathroom. You looked in the mirror, your almost 3 month along bump was showing. You tore your eyes from it looking at your face. You were trying not to think about Chris in that moment.

"get it together y/n." You whispered to yourself.

"mommy." You looked back to the doorway seeing isabella. Her stuff bear was in her hands as she rubbed her sleepy eye with the other hand.

"good morning honey."

You walked over to her, "did you sleep good?" Isabella looked up at you. "Yeah, I slept great." You laughed, "that's great. Uh do you wanna go get some breakfast? We can eat some pancakes and waffles, what you say bug?"

Isabella started to think, it was almost like you can see the wheels turning in her head. "Uhh yeah. Can we see daddy too?"

Your stomach did a flip, you didn't think she'll be okay with what he said about her, but She was 6 so maybe that was the reason.

"umm... Yeah, yeah. We can see daddy." Isabella smiled, "okay, I watch TV now." She walked back over to the bed, hopping in it. You exhaled, running your hands over your face. Here goes nothing you thought to yourself.

*

Chris phone ringing interrupting him from his daze. He picked it up seeing your contact. His heart picked up as he answered it.

"y/n, are you okay?" On the other side of the phone you sighed, "yeah, I'm fine. Look um isabella want see you so can you meet us at the diner at (some street name)?"

Chris nodded even though you couldn't see him. "Yeah, of course." He walked to the foyer to put on his shoes. "Umm, I love you." Chris said. He wasn't expecting you to say it back, but you did. When you did, his heart skipped and a smile formed on his face.

You hung up the phone. You let out a sigh once again. Here goes nothing.

*

You sat in the diner, isabella beside you coloring in the booklet they gave her. You both were waiting for Chris to come.

Your mind was filled, you couldn't even figure out what you were thinking about at all at this point.

After waiting a few more minutes, you heard the diner door open. In walked Chris. In his hands was a bouquet of flowers and stuffed animal. You were guessing it was his apologize.

He walked over to you both, just like yours, his heart was beating pretty hard in his chest.

"hey." Chris smiled shyly at you as you got up. "Hi." You tore your eyes from his, looking down at isabella. She was looking up at her daddy with a soft smile on her face. Chris kneeled down to her height. "Hi baby." He said to her softly. "I'm sorry for yesterday, I didn't mean any of it, I promise. Can you forgive me?"

isabella's small smile grew to a bigger one. "Yeah." Chris smiled at her. "Okay, give me a hug."

Isabella giggled as she Wrapped her arms around his neck. Chris hugged her close. He felt relived she forgave him, he felt so bad for saying what he said to her and he's going to spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

He pulled away from her, he handed the stuffed animal to her before standing back up.

He looked back at you. "Uh these are for you. It's not an apology, I'll give you a sincere apology later, but for now I have these." He looked at you, he had bags under his eyes from his sleepless night, and tear streaks on his cheeks from the crying he did.

you quickly tore your eyes from His taking the flowers. "Thanks." You cleared your throat. "Uh shall we have breakfast?"

Chris inhaled, "yeah." He walked over to the opposite side of the table and took a seat. You did the same sitting back beside isabella. You all ordered trying to forget about the tension that was very much between you and Chris. It was nice that you both were talking, but you just couldn't wait for the much needed talk later that night.

*

It was around 8 pm. You and Chris decided to drop her off at his mom's house. You didn't want what happened the day before to happen again.

You sat on the couch fiddling with your shirt end. Chris was in the kitchen getting you both something to drink before you talked.

"so um.. I got you some water." Chris said walking over to you handing you the glass of water. You thanked him Taking a sip before placing it on the coffee table. Chris sat beside you with a sigh.

"I.. I'm sorry for yesterday. I didn't mean any of it. It just slipped out because I was drunk and tired, I wasn't in my right head space in the moment and I took out on you and Bella and I'm sorry." He breathed out. He scanned your face waiting for you to speak. You shook your head, you didn't look at him but you spoke.

"yeah you're sorry, but you really hurt me. I wish I was never, that's fucked up and it hurts so much. If you never wanted to marry me why did you?"

You turned to Chris, tears threatening to spill over. The look on your face hurted Chris, he fucked up big time and he knew it.

"no, I didn't mean that, I swear. I love you more than anything. I don't regret marrying you, it was just a stupid mistake... I'm sorry baby."

Tears were starting to form in chris' eye. He felt guilty, he knew no amount of words could fix what he done but he was sorry more than anything.

"you promise?" You looked at him. Your lips were trembling Because of your crying.

"I promise." Chris said. He cupped your cheek with his hand. He placed a light kiss on your nose, but it wasn't enough for you. You went way too long without kissing him, you weren't going to waste another second not.

You grabbed his chin kissing him. Somehow his chap lips felt soft. They felt like home to you, you missed them so much.

You pulled away looking back at Chris. "I have something I need to tell you." You said fiddling with his hands.

"I'm pregnant."

Chris gave you a sour look, you already knew why. "You know?" Chris nodded, "the doctor called. they have an appointment for you, they want you to call them back to tell you."

You exhaled, "well... Surprise." You laughed making Chris smile. He missed that sound. He's been gone for so many nights he totally forgot how it sounded.

"can I come to the next appointment?" Chris pouted his lip making you laugh. "Of course you can. You need to your little peanut. I'm thinking it's a boy"

Chris frowned, "no I'm pretty sure it's a girl."

"you haven't seen them yet." You said to him Rolling your eyes playfully. "I know but I want another princess."

"touche."

--

It's not that good but thank you for reading. I had fun breaking y'all hurts on the first part lol

@chris-butt @patzammit @bval-1 @raveviolet @mrsbbarnesrogers-reading @enn-j @london-dreamer71 @harrysthiccthighss @captianamerica-is-bae @la-cey @weirdowithnobeardo @baby-i-am-fireproof @denisemarieangelina @evans713 @smyfmj @thereisa8ella @rororo06 @keiva1000 @ughitsnic @adriannajackson123 @marvelnaturalock @notyourtypicalrose @dummiesshort @onetwo3000 @hhiggs @katiew1973 @andreasworlsboring101 @skepticnovak @funfickgirl22 @hxnesthxneybee @christhickevans @melchills-j @franchesca-791 @moonlacebeam @wallowsgirl14 @areamir

@thevelvetseries @chaoticfiretaconerd @chrisevansgirl34 @a-moment-captured @shookbeech @pamelalur15 @llamaproblem @jessyballet @hazeljean2 @ohbarracuda @mrspeacem1nusone @n3ssm0nique @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @chrisevanisliterallysir @beautiful--blessing @coldmuffinpartycloud @mylittlecrazyworldofinterest @writingmeow29 @corrinez

[dankdefrank]

Sasharcy Week 2021, Day 5 and 6: Scars and Memories.

Marcy remembers that a lot of scientist sources had different opinions about the amount of time that the brain needs to adjust to the changes. Mostly, it depends on the person, type of change and many other factors. It usually takes twenty-one days to get used to losing a limb. After eighteen months, you eventually accept life changes, such as switching jobs or moving out. While grieving, you might need from six months to four years. 

Whatever adjusting meant. Is this a feeling that you know and you are not scared of this anymore? You aren’t in denial, saying “you’re not here”, but you nod your head as you see that change. Big or little one, in the mirror or in your life.

As Marcy thinks what if she would never find the music box, she comes to the conclusion that she would need forever to adapt to being alone again. To lose a part of herself, even if they still would be there. Not in her life, though. 

On the other hand, she also thinks that she still hasn't gotten used to new Sasha. She’s still her Sasha, and Marcy knows that, but it’s still new, like in the day she discovered that. It was very strange, but not unwelcomed in her life after all. When she notices something different about Sasha – a new scar on her body or a new change about her behavior – she just accepts it. It’s like watching her grow, which makes her… calm. In her case though, a big scar still is on her chest, being a reminder that she’s the one who actually went wrong.

Her head is full of those thoughts, but, for some reason, she never said any of this. She wasn't afraid that she will make a fool of herself or she will look stupid, but time was passing by and wounds were healing, yet scars were staying with them, forever. Maybe she couldn't find a good moment – after her rescue, Anne in the human world and this whole prophecy thing, they were too busy to talk about… things. Of course, they were feeling okay around each other, they were feeling safe, maybe even loved, but unsaid words were hanging up over their heads.

So, when they eventually find time to relax, it feels weird –  like they should work on and on, hoping that will wash their faults even if it won’t. It feels good too, as both of them are on the twin sized mattress in the Plantars’ basement, where Anne used to sleep. Marcy is playing with Sasha’s short, messy hair, when Sasha is just laying in front of her, with eyes closed. She’s not sleeping. Neither of them is and Marcy actually wonders if they ever will be. 

Her hand is lost in Sasha’s hair, while she’s looking at her face. It has changed. Pretty obvious thing, but she notices it again. Her skin now is dry, although it used to be smooth and without pimples. After so long time spent in the sun, her freckles are more visible on her crooked nose. Her lips have chapped, hair has become kind of oily, and in the end – her face adorn two scars. One on the right cheek, second across her left eye, next to her mole. It was a miracle that her sight wasn’t damaged. 

But somehow, Marcy still finds her beautiful.

Back home, Sasha’s was different, yet there’s something about her scars. Bruises on her body were and are temporary. Always, the same, careless “I’ll just cover this”, said with a bold grin. 

Marcy thinks that Sasha must feel unsure about scars, as finally, her body was telling the story, which she tried to hide. Maybe that's why she had never been worried about bruises, which were gone as they were showing up, like they were never here.

Her hand slowly goes down, but stops right in front of Sasha’s cheek.

“May I touch this?”, she asks and Sasha opens her eyes. 

“Why?” Her voice is quiet and hoarse, betraying her tiredness. An old boldness is missing, replaced by something what Marcy even might call… warmth? It’s weird, but it feels good, because she missed this so much. Even if the things are not perfect between them, they’re enough. So Marcy doesn’t seek the right answer, as she understands she doesn’t need to.

She shrugs her shoulders.

“Just because.”

Sasha’s eyes meet her eyes and Marcy cannot stop looking at the scar on the left side of her face. It’s like one of the words written on her body.

“If you want so.” She finally says slowly and Marcy touches it. A pale, raised, normal fine-line – to the touch it’s softer than her skin. Scars of this kind are made by cutting. Marcy knows that probably one of Sasha’s fights was the cause, but she still hasn't learned what exactly was.

“You know”, she says, still touching her scar. “You’ve never actually told me how this happened.”

Sasha raises her eyebrow.

“Anne didn’t tell you?”

Oh.

Marcy withdraws her hand a little.

“It was during your fight at the Toad Tower?” She asks quietly and Sasha nods.

“We argued. Like… badly.” Marcy knows that, but she lets Sasha talk. She can hear this again. “Anyway, it ended with the swords. When I’m thinking about this, and I think about this every single day, I guess that back then she had realized I was an asshole.” She laughs bitterly. “I almost won. She was laying on the ground and I had the sword by her neck. I’ve felt… like she was wrong. Like I needed to show her that she needs me, I need to control all of this, for her own good, because I know better. At home she never said no. So, when she finally did, when she cut my cheek, I was mad and shocked that she even dared to do that. She set the boundaries so much that if the tower hadn’t started to collapse and she hadn’t caught me, I would’ve left thinking that she hates me. I’m sure she hates me now, she really has a reason, but… Then I had evidence she was just mad. Now I have nothing. I’m not her friend. She deserves someone better, you know?”

Marcy didn’t expect Sasha to open with her memories so much, but what surprises her is that she thinks similarly about her relationship with Anne. She wasn’t controlling like Sasha, but she had a problem with honesty for sure. Always “I’m fine”, when she was not, always “I’ve just played games the whole night”, when she was crying ‘til dawn, always lying and hiding the truth. And where has it led eventually? She just wanted to stay with her friends forever but now one of them is gone. Maybe for good. 

“She’s really awesome.” Marcy finally says, as nothing else comes to her mind. She smiles bitterly. “I wish she was there.”

“Me too. It’s weird that I miss her even if I know she hates me? Wow, I’m really fucked up.” Sasha laughs, but there is no happiness in that. Only regret for lost chances.

“You are not.” Marcy reaches out her second hand, which is touching a part of Sasha’s scar under the eye. “And I don’t think she hates you. I mean… You probably have a lot of things to work on, but she doesn’t hate you.”

Some part of her is screaming right now “because she hates me”, but she doesn’t want to say it out loud, especially when she’s focused on Sasha now. She’s aware that she shouldn’t keep things bottled up, she needs to be honest instead. It’s not that easy, as lies to her were like quantum entanglement. Always together, so getting rid of them is difficult. She wonders if she really made this first step, as she’s making three steps backwards. Never moving on, always running, always falling, always lying–

“She doesn’t hate you either.” Sasha’s voice saves her before she falls into guilt’s trap. Marcy feels Sasha’s hand laying on her face. “You know that, right, silly?”

Marcy looks at her and lets herself smile a bit. She doesn’t completely believe in that. She would need to talk with Anne first to be sure, and do something about her own problems, chasing her since she could remember. It all is complicated and although Marcy could understand a lot, this is not something easy to understand. So, even if she’s not believing Sasha fully, it’s good enough, because they were in it together. Two messed up kids, trying to learn how to forgive themselves by finding warmth in something else than their mutual friend, who was gone.

 

“Let’s say that”, she murmurs. She hesitates for a while, but she finally hugs her cheek to Sasha’s hand. She would’ve enjoyed that, if she wouldn’t see Sasha’s scars on her hand, which makes her to get away from it. “You have a lot of scars on it too.”

Sasha snaps out.

“Oh, that. Yeah.” She looks at it. “You easily can cut yourself during trainings with the sword. And fighting, generally. But I don’t care about… all of this.” She points a scar on her eye. “Okay, maybe almost all. I really hate this Anne’s one. I wish it could disappear.”

Marcy slightly nods her head. She really wants to say something that could cheer her up. To her mind only comes a thought that her scar will never fade away, as they appear as part of the body’s natural healing processes. During injury the dermis is damaged – the deep, thick layer of skin – in effect producing a scar, by producing more collagen fibers in the flawed area. Thanks to it, the wound is repaired, but new scar tissue has a different texture and appearance than the surrounding skin. 

In conclusion, it won’t disappear. It will stay, like the scar on her chest, being the reminder of how they went wrong. 

“I think the scar is not the problem here.” Marcy’s words surprise even herself. She’s talking, as the sentences are running to her head like the water in the river of her thoughts. Panta rhei. Everything flows. River will never stay the same, so do you. Changing is the only rule of the universe, which can be called constant. “I think the reason why you hate it so much is that you still see it as consequences of your actions, believing that the guilt will never fade away, which brings memories you would rather forget.”

For a moment between them there is quiet. Sasha looks at Marcy kind of stunned, studying what she just said. It seems she’s trying to find the right words, but as she’s more focused, she finally lets it go and gives up.

“Wow, Marbles, that was really smart.” Sasha laughs. “I don't even know what to say.”

“You don’t need to.” Marcy whispers. “But I wouldn’t call this my thoughts.” Her voice goes quieter and quieter, as she’s going to tell some secret and she’s supposed to do that in this way or they could shatter. “I just think that’s something what Anne could say, modified with my thinking.”

“You’re right, she probably wouldn’t use those intelligent words. No offense to her, of course, she’s just more like…”

“Like a heart.”

“Yeah. Like a heart. Keeping all this together.”

They could be strong. They could be smart. Protecting, analyzing, always knowing. But without heart, who can protect and forgive because of love, despite all flaws, they were lost, not sure if they made the right decision. She still was one of the parts of their souls. Progresses and mistakes made, but without heart it was hard to remember, that if everything flows – then the guilt does too. 

So she speaks up.

“What I mean… is that your scar won’t disappear. Your actions won’t either, but, here we are. Maybe it’s a reminder that you’ve made a mistake, but also it’s a reminder that you’ve changed. I don’t know if she will forgive you, if she will forgive me, and if she will, then the question is when. Yet I know that you are trying as much as you can, you carry this, you carry memories of your scars, and that’s why I still want to be by your side.” She sees everything in Sasha’s eyes, where the tears are showing up and Marcy hears her sniffling. “O-oh, I-I’m sorry, Sasha, I didn’t want to make you cry, I–”

“S-shut up, silly.” Sasha just says, before hugging her so much, that every single insecurity goes away. 

There still were so many memories to accept. There still was so much to learn, discover and forgive, but at this moment it was enough. Time will pass and they will change – for better. 

So Marcy smiles and lets herself drown in her hug, thinking maybe that’s how it looks to be loved.

[1kook]

youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.  warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3  word count: 8.7k  

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him. 

And then winter comes. 

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years. 

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household. 

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute. 

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets. 

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick. 

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house. 

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable. 

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold. 

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him. 

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional. 

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.” 

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before. 

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again. 

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty. 

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house. 

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions. 

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever. 

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through. 

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times. 

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner. 

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong. 

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor 

You blink. 

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago. 

Oh, so this was new. 

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on. 

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again. 

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy. 

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning. 

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest. 

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you. 

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck. 

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss. 

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?” 

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck. 

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest. 

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck. 

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds. 

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy. 

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side. 

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?” 

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again. 

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip. 

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers. 

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct. 

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip. 

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt. 

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery. 

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again. 

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him. 

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored. 

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately. 

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth. 

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again. 

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate. 

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear. 

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum. 

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad. 

So you do. 

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.” 

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm. 

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes. 

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth. 

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet. 

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves. 

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that. 

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t. 

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him. 

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully. 

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed. 

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight. 

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off. 

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly. 

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you. 

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face. 

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch. 

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble. 

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?” 

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls. 

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy. 

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully. 

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip. 

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite. 

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely. 

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why. 

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now. 

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months. 

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—” 

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions. 

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing. 

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss. 

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn. 

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat. 

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss. 

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty. 

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off. 

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up. 

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good. 

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. 

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading. 

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds. 

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it. 

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan. 

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...” 

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick. 

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you. 

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you. 

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his. 

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.” 

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks. 

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt. 

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it’s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips. 

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,”  you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.” 

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin. 

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm. 

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you. 

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success. 

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself. 

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell. 

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle. 

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, “underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out. 

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart. 

 To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death. 

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying. 

It fits perfectly. 

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[hb-writes]

You’ve Always Been Naive

Summary: It’s 1925 in the Little Lady Blinder universe. After an epic row, Tommy allows Clara to stay more regularly on Watery Lane with a few conditions, one of which is a mid-week meeting at the Midland Hotel to check in.

Characters: Tommy Shelby & Clara (Shelby!Sister)

Content Warnings: canon-typical content, angst, (underage) drug use (requested by anon)

--

Tommy glanced up from his whiskey sour as his sister stepped up to the table, her face a deliberately neutral façade as she set a ledger down in front of him, a week's worth of academic work stuffed inside the front cover.

"Lizzie said you'll need that for tomorrow," Clara offered as she extracted the papers, placing them on top and pushing the pile towards him. "And here are the assignments you've asked for. If that's all, I have plans, so…"

Tommy watched her determination waver a bit as he raised a brow, her confidence retreating the longer she stood planted in front of him, the first she'd been directly in his presence for a little over a week.

A meeting at the Midland Hotel had been Tommy's idea. Clara had accepted the summons, accepted the hotel as a sort of neutral territory though it was in no way impartial. The hotel was Tommy's home more days than it wasn't, filled with a staff as loyal to his payment as the staff of Arrow House, loyal like the staff of the company, but the Midland's staff didn't know Clara Shelby as well as the others. They didn't have their claws in her, couldn't appeal to her on Tommy's behalf like the others did, like little Charlie did, or Ada, so when Tommy requested the midweek meeting as a condition of his allowing her to stay on the lane far more often than she did under his roof, Clara felt she had little option but to agree.

Tommy barely glanced at the things she'd set on the table, more interested in the fact that Clara hadn't yet found her seat, still standing across from him bundled in all the cloth that had protected her from the stinging wind and chill on the walk over, almost as if she was convinced the coat and scarf and gloves would protect her from him too.

"Take a seat."

"I already said I—"

"You're going to make a scene?"

Both of Tommy's eyebrows rose with the question, the words almost a dare, or perhaps better likened to a threat, and Clara glanced about the room only to determine that the Midland wasn't the proper place for a shouting match with her brother. Scheduling the meeting there was meant to keep the two of them in check, but Clara knew Tommy would show no hesitation in raising his voice back should she choose to make a go of it, settling her firmly in the place where he thought she belonged with a mere line or two.

Clara's cheeks warmed at the mere thought.

"That's what I thought." Tommy shifted, sitting up straighter in his chair, eyeing its empty match across the table. "Take a seat."

Clara remained in her spot, pulling her eyes from him as she forced her finger into the opening between her coat sleeve and glove to expose the delicate watch set on her wrist.

Lizzie's handwriting in her diary had marked her down to be at the Midland with Tommy from 6:00 to 7:00, but she's made herself quarter of an hour late by a bit of purposeful dawdling at the office followed by a bit of nervous pacing out front of the hotel that had left her with chilled toes and wind-chapped cheeks.

"I really can't see why I need to. You've seen I'm alive and well—" Clara gestured to the book and papers. "—You have the ledger, have proof I've been doing as I've been told, and I'm certain you've already gotten reports off of—"

"Take a seat."

Tommy finished his drink, the ice clattering against the glass as he set it on the table, all of the force that wasn't there in his voice focused into the gesture before he pulled the papers closer, thumbing through her work though he cared little to see the grades or completeness. He had little concern that Clara wouldn't hold up that end of the deal, her motivations in that arena extending beyond any guidelines he could set for her.

And anyway, Tommy already knew she'd been towing the line. He didn’t need the completed packet of school assignments to know she was following his rules. He didn’t need this encounter to know she was alright either, his curiosity on the matter fulfilled well enough through reports from Lizzie and Ada and Frances and Michael, his confidence bolstered by the lack of contact from the school. Even Finn’s first words to him in every meeting over the last week and a half had been about their sister.

People usually told him things, always had, seemed to give him what he needed in that respect without him having to ask after it, but Tommy didn’t always trust the word of the world. There were some things he preferred to see for himself, some questions he needed to hear the answer to while seeing the reaction on her face before she got the chance to put her clever words in the way.

Something about the power of the impending fourth request to take a seat, and the knowledge that it wouldn’t be as much of a request as it was an order coming from Tommy’s lips, helped Clara to lower herself into the chair across from her brother. She kept quiet while Tommy thumbed through her work, slipping the gloves from her hands and settling them on the table though she allowed herself to shed nothing more as she sat on the edge of the seat, her back straight, every muscle in her feeling taut and strained while she waited. 

“You’ve been busy.”

Clara nodded. She had been busy, and she was quite certain her brother was at fault for that, accepting her being out from under his roof, but not out from under his thumb, ensuring she had more than enough to keep her busy, keeping her so occupied once she held up her end that all she wanted was her bed. 

The worst part was Clara knew it. She knew this wasn’t really the freedom she was after, the distance she’d said she needed, but she couldn’t help herself when it came to meeting expectations. Clara was losing either way, but the fact that she kept trying bothered her brother, that she knew. That she’d rather adhere to his rule and work herself to death than live under his roof and play that game unsettled him.

People listened to Thomas Shelby for many reasons—because of his influence or his threats, because they hadn’t a choice. He imagined his siblings fell into the last category, left without much of a choice, but he’d always imagined the girls were a bit different. His brothers filed in line like the soldiers they were, but the girls weren’t soldiers. The girls had always seemed to be tied to him and his words in some other way, some sort of different understanding falling between the three of them, but with Clara especially. The understanding didn't seem to be there any longer though, replaced with the same soldiering that he'd seen with his brothers.

“I’ve been doing as I was told,” Clara offered. 

“And what were you told?” 

Clara huffed, settling back in the chair, her shoulders slumping at his question, something about him making her repeat it for him doing the work that his tone alone couldn’t.

Clara fixed her gaze out the windows in the front as the waiter approached the table.

"Anything for the young lady, Mr. Shelby?"

"Tea," he said, not pulling his eyes from his sister, her annoyance at the order he placed on her behalf clear in the twitch of her face though she stayed quiet until the man stepped away.

"I'm not staying, Tommy. I told you I have plans."

He tilted his watch face to check the time. “Not until seven.” 

Clara seemed to accept that seeing as she didn’t fight him, settling a bit further into the chair, shifting her gaze out the window once again.

“So, back to doing as you’re told, then.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, blinking at her long and slow though she’d met his gaze for only a short moment before turning her attention elsewhere, to watch people coming in through the front door. 

“School assignments, exams, the company, Sunday dinners. Your meetings...and all of it’s up to par, Tommy. I’m—”

“And what about this?” 

Clara stilled as he set the blue vial on the table, her pulse picking up as he left it there and sunk back into his own chair.

"Tommy!" she hissed, nearly reaching out her hand to knock it from the table, to remove it from such a clear view, but no one was watching them.

Tommy scoffed, leaning forward and closing the vial in his hand before pointing a finger at his sister. "I told you if there was any fucking nonsense, I'd bring you right back home."

"I am home," she answered. "Can't get more like home than Watery Lane."

Tommy's snort was so quiet Clara didn't even catch it and he nodded, leaning his chin on his hand as he sat back, his finger idly rubbing his jaw as he considered her. "You think you're clever."

"I am clever," Clara answered, unwinding the scarf from her neck, her eyes diverted as she focused on the meticulous folding of the fabric before she set the bundle on top of her gloves. "You've always said."

Tommy shook his head, the second snort almost leading to a smile before he cleared his throat, shifting his position again and rooting around for his cigarettes before he spoke.

"I'm not in the mood for it, Clara. You've been asking questions about things you have no business with and it stops now."

Tommy caught her eye roll as he lit the cigarette, couldn't miss it really, the way the gesture took over her whole expression, her whole body really, and he wondered whether she'd done it on purpose or if it was just a reflex.

Clara was inclined to do far more than roll her eyes at him, a whole queue of arguments settled at the leading edge of her tongue, every part of her except her lips prepared to fight him because everyone else was allowed a bit of snow for the simple fun of it, but Clara had a feeling voicing that argument wouldn't do well in the end. It would only serve to tell him what he somehow didn't yet know, that she hadn't simply asked her questions, that she'd also tried it for herself.

It had just been the one time, to quell some curiosity, a small indulgence, and even if it had helped her stay alert to get done what she'd needed to get done, Clara wasn't keen to try it again. Tommy had no need of knowing it, so she swallowed her arguments, swallowed her pride and distaste for the double standards that ruled her life.

"Fine, Thomas. I've heard you. You want me to stop asking questions. And Michael and Finn are loyal to you, not me. It's all understood, nothing for you to waste your precious time worrying over." She was sitting up straight in the chair once again, perched on the edge and eager to be out the door before the tea came. "Is there anything else?" she asked. "As I said, I do have other plans."

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing an exhale before tapping the ash at the end of his cigarette into the tray between them and holding her gaze. 

“You’ve never tried it, then?”

Clara opened her mouth and Tommy let out a hollow laugh before she could answer, the cigarette pointed in her direction once again. 

“And don’t you fucking lie to me, Clara.”

His gaze was unblinking and Clara held onto it as long as she could manage, not even allowing herself to breathe for several moments as she stared back at him, a familiar strain falling between the two of them.

Clara allowed herself a small intake of breath, attempted to take in a little air before she'd find herself gasping for it, attempted to extend the standoff a bit longer, but her resolve crumbled with the exhale, Tommy's attack coming before she'd even finished the breath. 

“You’re going back to Arrow—” 

“No, I'm not. It was just the one—”

Tommy's laugh cut her off, set a silence between them as he took a drag off the cigarette. “If you believe that, you’re just being naive, always have—”

“Excuse me?”

“You're clever, but you’ve always been naive,” Tommy said. “And all you’ve done this evening is show me that that is still the case.” He cleared some ash into the tray.  

“If the work’s too much, you cut out the fun with the boys. It’s something you kids don’t seem to understand.” He set his finger down into the pile, jabbing the folder of school assignments and the ledger with each word. “The business comes first.”

Clara scoffed, the force of it so gentle it was barely noticeable, and she glanced at her watch. “It’s five after,” she said, scooping her gloves and scarf into her arms as she stood, pushing her chair back in place.

Tommy nodded. “I want you at the house on Sunday…to see Charlie. We can finish this then."

"There’s nothing to finish," she answered, setting her gaze away from him as she wrapped the cloth around her neck and pulled her gloves from the table, fitting one hand inside. "See you Sunday."

Clara took a step away as she worked the other glove over her fingers and Tommy caught her elbow, his hold far more gentle than any of the words he'd tossed at her during their meeting, more gentle than his stares or the mock laughter.

A wetness grew in Clara's eyes and she stayed faced away from him for a moment as she tried to resolve the tears, swallowing hard, her arm going limp as Tommy's grip shifted, sliding down her arm to clasp her wrist.

Enough. That's what his hand on her wrist meant, a gesture Clara and Charlie used to ask for the end of any bit of play that had gone a bit too far, a signal that communicated when it was too much, a gesture Clara knew Tommy had been deliberate in choosing.

"Clara, I mean it. No more snow, alright? If something were to happen, I…"

His words sent a searing lump into her throat, that combined with the touch sending her mind down into a spiral of guilt and shame, and as much as Clara hated Tommy for his role in it, for having the power to do it, she hated herself just as well for succumbing to it, even more for ever stepping out of line to begin with, disappointed with herself and her choices even though everyone else did it.

Clara cursed her brother and his temperamental provision of care, the sparse deliverance of love, and his double standards, and then she’d cursed herself, cursed the expectations and rules she’d set on herself and everything about the relationship that existed between them. Clara pulled her hand loose, tugging her glove the rest of the way into place before she took a deep breath, her back still to her brother as she bid him farewell.

"I'll see you Sunday, Thomas."

--

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist

Little Lady Blinder (Peaky Blinders) Masterlist

[crispyjenkins]

Naboo Obi Gets to Do the Kiss Thing

(okieeeee not sure how to describe this in a way that makes sense but this drawing by @bureau-pinery​ will alas not actually happen in All We Have is Hunger, for reasons™ but tosh, @atelier-dayz​ and @mandalorianbrainweasel​ all had something to say about jango getting to kiss obi-wan in his makeup and i am a weak, weak man. SO here are two separate little UA takes on how that kiss could have gone, if i could have worked them into hunger-canon (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) which i couldn’t because: pining. i need them to keep pining into the sequel. you don’t understa–

(also you sort of need to have read hunger ‘verse up through chapter 6 to understand these T◡T srrys)

ca. chapter 6

  Jinn carries Maul’s corpse out of the Theed power generator on his back despite the blistered wound across his ribs, and doesn’t quite look at Obi-Wan walking beside him, despite having given Obi-Wan his cloak as a sort of shock blanket. 

  Which is a little ridiculous considering he’d had no problem looking when Maul had Obi-Wan on his back, one foot crushing his shoulder into the floor as he tauntingly held the end of his lightstaff inches from his throat. In Jinn’s defense, he had been struggling not to fall into the melting pit at the time, only an arm and his eyes visible over the edge as he had to watch Maul leer down at Obi-Wan as if deciding what best way to tear him apart. 

  In Obi-Wan’s defense, Jinn had only managed to pull himself back onto the catwalk after Obi-Wan had dislocated his own shoulder wrenching it out from underneath Maul’s boot, and after he had stabbed Jinn’s lightsaber under Maul’s raised arm right through his chest to the other side. Zabraks have two hearts, Obi-Wan had learned while fighting Savage, and knew he’d hit both of Maul’s when he released a single breath and dropped at Obi-Wan’s feet.

  Though injured himself, Jinn had reset Obi-Wan’s shoulder and fashioned a sling out of his obi belt, and Obi-Wan had not protested when he draped his Jedi robe around him. He made no offer to carry Maul.

  The pilots haven’t returned by the time they reach the hangar, but there are heaps of deactivated B1 droids scattered between it and the throne room, so they must have succeeded in taking out the control ship. Reaching out with the Force, Obi-Wan can tell Padmé has already subdued Gunray, and he’s just relieved they don’t have to run anywhere else; if he had his way, he’d never have to do more than a brisk walk for the rest of his life.

  Captain Panaka sees them first as Obi-Wan leads them into the throne room, where the Guard is cuffing Gunray and Haako to each other and Padmé is already delegating tasks to the other humans swarmed around her desk.

  “Messere Naberrie!” Panaka calls with relief, all heads jerking in Obi-Wan’s direction while Jinn bends down to lay Maul on the floor by one of the columns as respectfully as possible. Obi-Wan doesn’t wait for him, making his way to the other Naboo and trying not to look like he’d just been through hell. Panaka and Jango break away from the group, Panaka hurrying down the chamber to help Jinn, but Jango heads right for Obi-Wan, unbuckling his helmet from under his chin as he goes.

  “Are you alright?” he demands, and Obi-Wan’s mind flatlines. 

  His curls are stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his scowl is terrible, and Obi-Wan can almost hear him swearing Jinn out in his mind, but no one’s ever looked at Obi-Wan like that.

  When Jango pauses with a confused frown, Obi-Wan keeps walking, because, kriff it, he’d just almost died again and he doubts Jango’s going to stick around on Naboo very long once his contract is up, and he’s always been stupid for brown eyes dark enough to ground him.

  Besides, he’s still got one working hand to set behind Jango’s neck and gently pull him forward, and two working ears to hear Gunray choke and make a sound like he’s dying.

-----

ca. chapter 4

    When the Queen invites Jango to her quarters that night, with their arrival to Naboo looming the next morning, he pretends he hadn’t known she would ask to extend his contract. Obi-Wan stands off to the side in a new set of silky lavender tunics with his hair pulled up away from the high collar, and shoots him a smug wink when Jango takes his seat across from the Queen. Or, the one that had him sign the contract the last time, at least.

  No one in the room seems surprised when he agrees to the new contract, to continue to keep the royal party safe until the occupation is dealt with or both the Queen and her advisor are dead. As if Jango would let that happen.

  Obi-Wan follows him when everything has been signed and filed away, smiling as he gently grabs Jango's wrist to change his course from the sleeping quarters towards the galley instead, with the murmured promise of alcohol. Somehow, his grip is already loose enough that it doesn’t set off Jango’s instincts to free himself from whatever the kriff is around his wrist, but, tearing his eyes from their hands back to Obi-Wan’s face, Jango realises there’s no “somehow” about it. Because, of course, Obi-Wan already knows.

  Jango shoves the part of his mind that sounds an awful lot like Arla back into its box, and lets this stupid, beautiful man lead him down the stairs to the deck below. Of course he already knows. 

   He almost expects it, when Obi-Wan barely enters the room before turning and gently pushing him against the wall next to the door. Jango hadn’t realised at the start of this contract what an eventful hub the galley would become, and he’s honestly going to miss it a little bit, after he leaves Naboo. After Obi-Wan is no longer a foot away, looking at him like he’s trying to decide if he wants to drown in this.

  Being able to count all your relationships on your hands doesn’t exactly give you the widest range of experiences, and though he’s rarely been the one against the wall, Jango likes to think he’s got a pretty good idea of what to expect by now. Yet, it still startles him when Obi-Wan closes the space between them just to press that fondly-exasperated smile against his lips and then stay there — which is around the time Jango’s mind finally catches up to this being a thing that’s actually happening, that this stupid, beautiful man knows what he’s doing. 

  And Jango isn’t quite sure how it happens, but by the time either of them think to pull away, he has a hand in Obi-Wan’s hair, red locks spilling over his fingers as the wooden pin holding it all up comes loose. Kiss-drunk is a good look on him, Jango thinks, wet lipped and slightly dazed as his hair falls down around his face, though Jango can’t fathom how absolutely none of his makeup had smeared.

  “We haven’t even started drinking yet,” Jango mutters breathlessly, just to see Obi-Wan’s whole face twist up even as he tries to tamp down an equally-breathless grin.

  “Oh, yes, very classy, Jango,” he grouses, but does nothing to dislodge Jango’s hand, or to pull away.

  Smirking, Jango swipes his thumb over Obi-Wan’s deceptively-chapped bottom lip. “You’re the one that kissed me, or'dinii.”

  Obi-Wan scoffs, and drops a kiss onto Jango’s open palm. “Stop calling me names, and I might still give you a drink.”

-

Mando’a: or’dinii — “fool”, “moron”

[thefanficmonster]

Never Satisfied [Chapter 8]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“reality may be better than a dream“

He isn’t sure when he woke back up or how long it had been since he fell asleep, but his cheek is squished up against something and he is in a horizontal position. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, realizing he is staring past the edge of a pair of tanned legs decorated with thin black lines of fishnets which are also digging into his cheek. His eyes widen, lips parting a tiny bit when he realizes he’d tipped over in his sleep, laying his head on Cora’s hip. His hand had slid from her cheek and curled against the back of her neck, cradling her head in his palm. He swallows hard, unsure if he should move and risk waking her up or stand as still as he possibly can. On one hand, he doesn’t want her thinking he willingly invaded her personal space, but then again she’s bound to find out, seeing as how moving would result in waking her up and if he remained in his current position, she’s still gonna wake up sooner or later and find him awkwardly looking at her, silently praying she doesn’t lose her cool at him.

What is a guy to do?

Her arms are still wrapped snugly around his thigh, sleeping peacefully in the dark room illuminated only by the Netflix menu. 

It must be later than I thought, he thinks to himself as he stretches his free leg out to his phone, tapping the screen with his sock covered toe to discover it’s 6:48pm. Jesus, we’ve slept for almost two hours. 

The sun is still glowing but is now significantly lower in the sky, indicating they’d have a little bit of daylight left but it would be quick to slip past them if Cora doesn’t wake up anytime soon. What if she wanted to leave before it got dark? I should probably wake her up, no? I mean, there’s also the possibility that she didn’t and I’d just be disturbing her for no reason and I of course don’t want that….Ugh, fuck, why is something this simple so complicated?!

Doing his best not to jostle her, Corpse carefully pushes himself up using his hands which he’s propped up on the back of the couch. Once upright, he carefully eases his hand out from under her head and brushes a few stray dark locks away from her face where they had formed a curtain over her closed eyes. His voice cracks as he tries to speak so it comes out more as an unsure murmur. 

“Cora. Hey, come on, wake up.” He whispers, trying to be gentle as he nudges her shoulder. 

She lets out a soft distressed noise at the fact that someone dared to interrupt her sleep. Her arms tighten around his leg and she rubbed her cheek into his thigh, indicating that he’s not going anywhere with this mellowness, 

“Mmm...five more minutes…” she mutters, making his cheeks burn as she snuggles up even tighter into him.  

With a defeated sigh he leans back, fixating his gaze on the TV and smiles a tiny bit, feeling that by now familiar, warm sensation in his chest and stomach - the one he feels whenever he takes her hand or gets a text from her. “Alright, five minutes.” He settles, leaning back further on the couch, unlocking his phone, beginning to browse Instagram quietly and then checking his email afterwards. 

He soon finds he’s lost track of time but eventually it definitely starts feeling like more than five minutes have passed, and so Corpse decides to take some action. Bowing his head down, he shakes her shoulder again. “Alright, come on, Sleeping Beauty, it's time to get up. I’m hungry and I gotta pee and I’m done with being held hostage.”

Her head tips slightly to the side, eyes still closed as she turns to face the ceiling. A sly little smirk dances on her lips before it falls when she goes back to pretending to be consumed by her blissful slumber. Her voice arises from her throat as a playful whisper, 

“Something-something can only be awoken with the kiss of a strong knight.” 

Corpse feels his stomach do a backflip and his face starts burning as the color of his cheeks, ears and neck switches to a bright shade of red, eyes growing wide when he registers what she just said. “I’m...um-...” He stutters, his throat suddenly dry and coarse as sandpaper.

Cora opens one eye just a slit, spotting his frantic blushing before closing it again. “Or even just a dude lost in the woods if the knight is unavailable.”

He swallowed again, desperately trying to fish out any words and let them leave his mouth. Despite his attempts to calm himself down, his hands go clammy and his heart has taken to hitting the inside of his ribcage with the intensity of an angry dragon, threatening to break through and leave his body. 

She isn’t really suggesting this, right? It’s a joke, it has to be. Haha, make Corpse look like a dumbass, won’t that be hilarious.

Interrupting his thoughts, one of her hands squeezes the back of his knee while the other comes up to link her pinky finger with his own. He stares down at her, flustered as all hell, catching that one eye open again. His face is the epitome of questioning, puzzled and….hopeful? He can’t afford to be getting hopeful, not when there’s still the option that she’s messing with him. That’s why he has to know. His eyes are begging her to tell him what’s going on here or if there’s anything going on at all. He wants her to either break this magic or carry it out completely to where it’s enveloped and surrounded them both. He wants something, anything, even the tiniest signal from her, just to put his mind at ease and his racing heart to rest.

His breath hitches when Cora slides her hand out from under his leg. Defeat spreads throughout his chest like a wildfire when he thinks she’s about to pull away. 

I knew it! I knew she’s just fucking around, she’d never w-!

His brain stops firing neurons of panic when he feels a hand rest on the back of his neck and he suddenly realizes he’s being pulled down slightly, the figure across his lap raising to connect their lips halfway. 

He freezes, eyes wide and nearly watering in panic at the sudden contact that he was far from prepared for. However, Cora wouldn’t be Cora if she just let him sit there and panic so she immediately reacts, squeezing his hand so that his instincts would kick in. When they finally do, his hand comes up to gently cup her face, allowing himself to melt into the kiss. He kisses her slowly, savoring the feeling of her lips against his - warm and soft against his chapped ones. His thumb brushes slowly across her cheekbone, subconsciously memorizing every spot and tiny line etched into her skin. 

She’s the first to pull back but they don’t stay apart for long seeing as how she’s quick to sit up higher and press her lips back against his, hand cradling his head as both their bodies buzz with heat. His arm automatically wraps around her torso, the palm of his hand resting on her back to keep her close, deepening the kiss.

His chest is aching with happiness, eyes brimmed with tears of joy and relief he hopes won’t spill for her to see. He just can’t help himself, it all feels so overwhelming and surreal. The feeling that he’s had living within him since their lunch date has finally fallen into place. It finally makes sense and he can finally be at peace with it. That’s the biggest relief he’s felt in a long while. She’s his check point, his safe haven and his relief. She’s become so much to him in such a short amount of time. It goes without saying she’s incredibly special.

He draws back after a moment and inhales shakily, his whole body shaking in shock. 

“Holy shit.” He whispers, eyes wide as he carefully moves his hands away from her face. 

Cora’s cheeks are pink as she smiles faintly and nods in agreement. “Sorry...I hope that was okay.” She mumbles, looking away shyly but not for long. Corpse tilts her head, turning it to face him once again as he leans in to press his lips firmly against hers, eyes closing slowly yet again. She brings her body closer to his and Corpse could swear he felt the Earth stop spinning. The rest of the world has stopped existing. Nothing matters but this moment, right now. This kiss shared between them, this contact between them, addictive like a drug.

They spend a few minutes just kissing slowly, enjoying every second of it, savoring it with a small fear they might never repeat this though they really hope they do. 

He alternates between cupping her cheek and neck to holding her hands. The whole experience is just so warm and deep and meaningful, but tame at the same time. They don’t dissolve into a frantic mess, they kept their pace, moving in sync, reminding each other that this is not a dream. This is better than any dream could ever be.

He breaks away first, his heart still beating rapidly in his chest. “Do-...do you need to go home?” He blurts out softly, fingers laced with hers, the question so out of place for the setting.

“Oh, is my kissing so bad you want to kick me out?” She asks with a smile so small but so bright it warms him internally. 

He laughs a deep breathy laugh, looking at her with affection. He can't help it, he’s intoxicated by her. Before, it would have been a totally different experience for him: frantic backpedaling on what he’d said but something feels...good with her here. It feels so right and it keeps him grounded in the current moment, refusing to allow him running the conversation and events back in his head.

“No, you’re perfect…” he admits softly, a little anxious with those words but accepting them as truth because that’s what they are. “I just thought….”

“Is that what that burning smell is?” She teases again, perhaps hiding her own nervousness behind jokes, before she kisses him softly. 

“I thought, if you wanted to stay the night....I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.” He manages to say, pulling away from her briefly, the backs of his fingers drawing a soft line across her cheek. He pulls away further suddenly, realizing that may be a bit too romantic. They just kissed, and still haven’t spent such a big amount of time together. With these thoughts in mind, he hurries to add: “If not, it’s okay…”

She’s quick to shake her head, dismissing his worries, “I want to stay, but you’re not sleeping on the couch. What, are you afraid I’ll give you cooties?” She teases, squeezing his hands and leaning in to affectionately headbutt his shoulder. 

He smiled and winds his arms around her in a tight hug, releasing her when she pulls away. “Alright, but I’m hungry, and I still need to piss.” He declares, standing up and stretching to loosen and relax his stiff joints, starting to make his way to the bathroom. “Think about what you want for dinner!”

@fockingwhore  @vixenl  @annshit  @wineandionysus  @wiseflamingoqueen

[wonho-ssi]

All That Glitters

Pairing: Yuchan x Fem Reader

Type: One shot, Hybrid AU

Warnings: Mentions of violence, prejudice/discrimination towards another race, swearing

Word count: 7.2k

『 She liked to think work was boring and a place for her to quietly lose her mind, but slowly a cute hybrid boy makes her change her mind 』

This was inspired by a prompt by @hybridfanfiction. Check them out!

The day had seemed normal enough when she first woke up. There was birds chirping and there was sunlight pooling in through the cracks in her blinds. Nothing she had done that morning seemed to be out of the ordinary, nor did her commute to work; people had crossed roads as carelessly as normal and they also had the same lack of self awareness as normal.

Really, if you have asked her that morning if anything had seemed odd, she would have responded with a bark of laughter and walked away with a shake of her head and a mutter claiming you were crazy. 

However, as soon as she had stepped into the building, she found feel that something was off - more so than usual with an office building. 

Everyone was quiet, eyeing each other with suspicion and slight judgment, their lips pulled into eerily similar straight lines.  

Sitting down, the office chair squeaking under her weight, she swivelled around to face her desk mate: Changseok.

“Hey,” She whispered, though not really making any special effort to keep quiet, “what’s everyone acting so weird for?“ 

Changseok looked over at her, his brown eyes rolling in his skull to look at her blankly. Lips slowly forming a pout, he chewed on the inside of his cheek, shrugging. "Haven’t you heard?” He spoke cryptically and she had half a mind to give up there and then. The last thing she wanted to be doing so early in the morning was play 21 questions. 

“No,” came her blunt response and he leant in, as though he was going to tell her the secret of the century. His eyebrows furrowed, voice even quieter than before, making her strain to hear it.

“There’s a hybrid here now,” He stressed the noun and she blinked, completely blind sighted. However, it wasn’t because of the revelation of the person’s species, but rather his attitude towards them and the way he was saying ‘hybrid’ like it was something dirty. 

Closing her eyes for a few seconds to make sure she didn’t lose her temper, she exhaled - sound almost dulcet had it not been for the glare that pierced through him straight after. “Okay. Is that it?”

Changseok looked confused by her lack of reaction, repeating the word again, assuming that she hadn’t heard him. 

“I heard you the first time. I was just wondering why it was such a big deal,” he moved back to his own space and she thanked every god she could think of. “They’re a hybrid. So what?”

His frown deepened and she could sense how she was going to have to contain an eye roll. It was always nice to find out someone you worked with was a piece of shit. 

“It’s unnatural. They were made in labs so it’s not like they’re actually human,” she stayed silent, strong at him with an expression so cold that she almost wished he froze in front of her face. Upon her lack of a comment, he hurried to try and explain himself - not that he really cared to hear his opinion. “Don’t you think? They’re literally part animal, they’re freaks.”

With a lift of her eyebrows, she turned back to her work and shook her head. “Damn, I’ve always disliked you, but I guess now I have a concrete reason other than your simple idiocy. Never speak to me again.”

Changseok’s mouth opened (more than likely in a weak attempt to defend himself) however, she promptly ignored him and got up, shooting him one last withering look before walking away and to the ground floor of the building to the café.

While she was there, she decided that it would be nice to get to know this new coworker - there was always room in her life for being polite even if there wasn’t much of a chance for it with the people she was around. The intermingling scents of coffee and baked goods lightened her foul mood considerably, eyes grazing over the pastries before deciding that she didn’t want any today. 

Purchasing a cup of coffee and of sweetened tea, she headed back up and began to ask around for the coworker. Everyone she asked gave her an odd look: some of them because she was asking about someone new when she had never cared before, and others because they were a hybrid. Nonetheless, she found out their location and the fact that they were a male.

Eventually she did manage to find him, situated at the further end of the floor with his head down and a hunched back. It wasn’t hard to deduce why, feeling the lingering stares burning into her own back as she walked towards him. 

“Hi,” she greeted, feeling slightly bad when he jumped in surprise, “I’m (y/n). It’s nice to meet you,” pulling up a chair, his expression morphed almost comically. 

He was good looking, she was willing to admit wholeheartedly, with his wide, rounded eyes and softly pursed lips that was complimented nicely by his sharp nose and silky looking brown hair. She was sure that if he wasn’t a hybrid, most people would have the opposite of an aversion towards him. 

His swallow was thick, adam’s apple bobbing with the force of it, his slight body shaky and hands trembling - he seemed more like a newborn child than a fully grown adult. “I’m Yuchan,” he introduced finally, shocking her with how his voice had remained stable. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

The smile that spread across her lips was serenity in its truest form, a feeling of peace washed over her as she moved one sheathed cup towards him. 

“Do you prefer tea or coffee, Yuchan?” His name tasted foreign on her tongue, yet it was light and airy. She could find comfort in saying his name, it seemed. “I didn’t know which one, so you can pick whichever.”

“You didn’t have to,” he lamented, the slightest shade of pink tinged his cheeks a subtle rose.

“I wanted to,” Yuchan’s eyes flickered between the two cups before slowly reaching out to take the one labelled coffee, “good choice.”

“Thank you,” His smile was beautiful and she thought that the gentle simper was much more fitting for his countenance than timidness. “You really didn’t have to.”

She could have echoed her earlier words, told him that it didn’t matter, however, all she could think to do was watch him. It was entrancing really how graceful he was, every movement of his fluid and poised. If she had been ignorant, she would have asked why he was wasting his time in a shitty office job when he was much more talented in other things. 

Instead, she nodded and sipped her own tea before speaking again. “How are you settling in?” It must not have been easy, especially with the blatantly rude behaviour of the other staff as well as tensions across the country from the new laws. 

He shrugged, licking his slightly chapped lips. “I’m doing okay. It’s nice here.”

‘If it’s nice here, what’s horrible?’ She thought, almost looking at him funny. “Do you need any help with anything? I can help you with whatever.”

Yuchan shook his head, nails tapping against the cardboard sleeve around the coffee cup. “Junhee-hyung helped set me set up and taught me how to use everything.”

“You know the boss?” His expression quickly turned worried, more than likely thinking he overstepped a boundary, nonetheless she was faster to speak, “that’s good. It’s nice to have connections in places like this. Junhee is a nice man, I like him.”

His visage melted into one of a relief, chewing the inside of his cheek slowly. “Yeah, Hyung’s really nice and helpful. I’m happy I got a job with him as my boss.”

There was another silence that fell, this time a lot more comfortable than the first. Soft sounds of the clock ticking made her glance down at her watch, realising with great irritation that she needed to start doing work or face getting scolded by the supervisor. “I have to head back to my own desk now, but if you ever need anything, feel free to shout for me.”

Getting out of the seat and putting it away, he waved her off and she felt immediately more energised; enough so that anyone she caught who dared look at Yuchan with even a glimmer of disgust was shot down with a scowl and a silent dare to carry on further. 

Maybe having a new, less annoying coworker would finally make her feel excited to come to work. 

The next day, she had decided that walking to work would be a lot less stressful and more cleansing to the soul. (It also meant that she wouldn’t have to pay the parking fee but that was only really a bonus.)Walking also meant that she could now head into her favourite bakery - one she hadn’t managed to go into a for a long while due to simply being busy and overrun with work. 

A gentle jingling from above her head signalled her entrance, the pretty cashier behind the till giving her a smile and a nod of acknowledgment. The familiar scent of honey and cinnamon was comforting, enveloping her in warmth and lightening the burden in her chest. Honestly, if she could afford to do something, she would have bought out everything in the quaint and idyllic shop. 

Browsing through the pastries put into baskets and the cakes hidden behind glass, she decided on buying a favourite that always held up to the test of time; chocolate chip cookies. Theirs were always soft and melted in the middle, with chocolate always lingering on the back of your palette for a long while after being consumed. Maybe she was being dramatic, but she considered it a slice of heaven amongst her life of abject sin. 

Thankfully, as they had just opened, there was an abundance of sweet treats and she took great pleasure in filling up a paper bag with 6 of them. However, just as she was about to pay, she remembered Yuchan and figured she may as well get him some too.

Grabbing another bag and three more cookies, she paid swiftly with an expression of gratitude before returning to her trek to the cursed building she was set to be in - which only took her around another 5 minutes.

It was nice to see that even though Changseok was there, he made no move to speak her like normal. 'Good,’ she mused as he avoided eye contact, 'I guess he got the message.’ It was no loss on her end, in fact, she classified it as a win. 

There was a lot less under breath murmurs today, with people only glancing at Yuchan from the corner of their eyes instead of staring at him like a circus attraction. It wasn’t ideal, though it certainly was an improvement.

“Hi again,” she spoke softly, not wanting to scare him like yesterday.

Looking up from the computer screen, wide eyes met hers, softening into crescent moons. “Hi, how are you?”

“I’m good,” she held up the bag of cookies ad shook them with a pleased grin, “the bakery had my favourite cookies. I thought you would like some. They’re really good,” She put the bag beside his hand.

Thumb grazing over the paper bag, his hues roamed over the delicious looking cookies within and his smile widened considerably. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to thank me,” she sat in the empty chair beside him, spinning on it gently by using her feet. “How is it going today? Everything’s okay?”

“Mhm. I haven’t had any issues, I actually just started on a new project,” he found conversation coming easily despite his nervousness. Who wouldn’t be nervous when a pretty girl with a notorious streak for being blunt was speaking to you?

“Really?” She questioned genuinely interested, “what’s it on?” The company they worked for mainly dealt with collaborating with fashion brands and shipping so anything new was always welcomed. 

“Well uh, Hyung asked me if I could help to design a website for one of our new shareholders,” He fiddled with the paper bag, the soft crinkling providing a background noise, “I’m not too sure about where to start if I’m honest.”

“Oh,” She leant closer to look at what he already had, the landing page currently being edited, “do you have a basic template?" 

"Not really, they only gave us a small brief to work from. They said 'make it look like h&m’, which is helpful,” The soft giggle that left her mouth made him pause, fingers stilling in their fidgeting. 

“Clients like that are the worst,” Nodding in agreement, he saw her mouth open to say something more before she also stilled. 

Her eyes closely followed a figure with red hair as she slowly got up, shoving the seat under the chair. “If Kihyun sees me here he’s going to grill me, I’ll see you later, Yuchan,” before he could even say bye, she was already up and running - leaving him alone with his cookies.

His mouth was left wide open, watching her rush away like a thief about to be caught. A few moments later, the head of red hair was in his vision, the man’s smiling face soon following as he greeted Yuchan.

“Morning,” Kihyun spoke, following his gaze and spotting her sitting down in her chair and then looking at his own out of place one. “She was just here, wasn’t she?”

Yuchan pursed his lips, not wanting to speak up in case she got into trouble; she was one of the only ones that made an effort to check up on him after all. Kihyun seemed to notice this and laughed, patting his thigh reassuringly. 

“It’s okay, she won’t get into trouble. I like her so I wouldn’t say anything, we just like to bicker,” Yuchan’s ears perked. He had noticed how people seemed to shrink away whenever she walked by, almost as if they were avoiding her gaze and he never quite understood why. She was always kind to him.

“Who is she?” He couldn’t help but ask, clamping his mouth shut a second later as he realised he might have overstepped a boundary. “Um I- i mean, I know her name but-”

“She’s one of the best IT techs we have. She likes to keep to herself and she’s got an attitude if you piss her off, and considering the assholes we work with, I don’t blame her. If you’re nice to her or joke with her, she’ll return it. You don’t have to worry about it, Yuchan, she seems fond of you,” He flushed upon hearing the pride, cheeks dusting the faintest shade of pink as he nodded and put up head down. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out Kihyun shaking his head and grinning to himself at his bashfulness. Nonetheless, he didn’t notice it too much, lost in his own thoughts. She was fond of him? He mused, absentmindedly click on the screen. 

A small smile made its home on his face, plush lips stretching into a subtle upwards curve. 

Yuchan found he rather liked the idea of her liking him. 

With every day that passed, he found himself looking forward to her daily check ins. Her smile was pretty and her aura was comforting, like a cup of warm coffee that warmed you from the inside out on cold, frigid days. 

He had been looking around the shops one day, spending his free time poking around instead of being cooped up in his room (and being scolded by his roommate as well as his mother likewise for being antisocial and a neet). The days were turning colder, frostier. With every breath he took he could see his own contribution to the looming clouds above. 

As he walked around, eagle eyed for anything that might have caught his interest (i.e anything shiny) he weaved through the aisles of the old antique shop he had wandered into. The store had the smell of old wood and of slight citrus, a scent that shouldn’t have gone together but it did so beautifully. 

Yuchan hadn’t really been looking to buy anything however, as soon as he has spotted something glinting dutifully under the golden lighting, he had to have a look. Pushing aside the objects in front of it, he grinned broadly to see a beautiful bejewelled keychain. 

It was in the shape of a bird: a peacock if he was recalling correctly. Azure and emerald gems decorated the body of the beard, the eyes of its feathers painstakingly done with brown and yellow. 

Of course he was a sucker for anything cute and sparkly, hence his lack of self restraint as he picked up the keychain, cradling it gently in his hands. It shone with every turn of the head, the black stones used for the bird’s eyes almost lifelike. Though at least he had on justification for this purchase; he was going to give it away. 

Which is where he was currently, sitting in his office chair with a bouncing leg as he bit his lip nervously. She hadn’t come to him all day and he was growing worried that she was getting bored of it - he really hoped that it wasn’t the case. 

Taking another glance over, he swallowed thickly and relaxed as he saw her hunched over her desk, typing furiously on her keyboard before pressing the enter button and glancing at her watch. The time seemed to make her happy as she immediately smiled to herself and shut off her computer, kicking up her bag and throwing it around her shoulders.

For a second he thought she was going to leave there and then, but they were soon proven wrong as she walked towards his direction, a bounce in her step. 

“Hi Yuchan,” she greeted and he returned her jovial simper with a small wave. “What are you doing now?" 

"I’m just finishing up the website. I just need to edit some banners and code and I’ve finished,” Her lips formed a soft 'o’ shape as she sat down beside him, stealing Kihyun’s chair once again. “What are you doing?" 

Her fingers picked at her shirt sleeve as she rocked from side to side on the office chair. "I finished all my work for today. I’m thinking of leaving early, I just need to go to Junhee-ssi and tell him.”

Yuchan’s nervousness immediately skyrocketed and fingers tapped on the table, drumming on it lightly but still loud enough so that it drew her attention. “You okay? You seem anxious, your website is amazing, I promise.”

Finding her reassurance cute, he forced himself to stop messing around with any of his body parts and smiled at her instead. “Thank you. I’m just thinking about something. I appreciate it, I appreciate you,” he added the last part only in his head as he was too much of a coward to actually say them outloud - though judging by her broad and bright smile, she seemed to understand the worldless implications just fine.

A comfortable silence fell over them both, his shoulders slumping as he finally felt comfortable to relax. She slipped her bag off her shoulders and placed it in front of her, rummaging through it before producing a brown paper bag. “I went to the bakery this morning. I saw they had some brownies today and I thought you would like them.”

“You don’t have to always get me something,” She waved off his concerns and he felt his heart flutter in his chest - his cheeks immediately tinging a subtle shade of rose despite himself. “I’m okay with just you." 

"Oh, you’re so adorable, Channie,” She spoke smoothly, like she hadn’t noticed that cute nickname leave her mouth and fluster him beyond belief, “I want to get them for you. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Glancing again at her watch, her lips pursed and she stood up. “I should get going now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His mouth opened, hand lifting up to stop her before he let it fall back down to his desk, internally groaning at his cowardice. Instead of getting up and giving the gift to her, he watched her disappear down the stairs, not to be seen until tomorrow.

'Damn it,’ he looked at his bag, deciding to do the next best thing - leave it on her desk. Opening up his bag, he took out the small wrapped box that he had painstakingly covered with sparkly gift wrap. A red glitter box was on top, his reflection staring back at him hundreds of times as he stared hard at it. 

Getting up, he clutched the box tightly in his hands and walked towards her desk, thankful that people had (mostly) given up on staring at him whenever he passed by. As he approached her workspace, Yuchan fell a glare burning into his skin, his saliva thick as he swallowed. He knew quite clearly that it was coming from her seatmate. 

Ignoring it to the best of his abilities, he opened the first drawer to her desk and placed it gently within, giving it a soft pat of reassurance before closing the drawer again. Hopefully she would see it when she came back. 

He straightened up, eyes meeting blank brown hues that seemed to see right into his soul, sending shivers down his spine. Barely managing a smile, he rushed away when he saw Changseok’s scowl deepen. He wasn’t going to stay where he wasn’t wanted. 

Despite this, his cheery mood couldn’t be dampened. He had accomplished his mission even with the few hiccups during the way and that was good enough for him. 

Work tomorrow suddenly didn’t seem so bad. 

His leg was bouncing again today, though this time for a completely different reason than previously. Yuchan’s gaze was constantly on the door when it wasn’t focused on the screen in front of him. Right now, he couldn’t have cared less about working on a banner for another makeup company, his sole focus being on seeing her reaction to his gift. 

After what felt like an eternity, she finally appeared through the door and his heart felt like it was going to beat straight out of his sternum. Chewing nervously on his bottom lip, he was growing incredibly impatient - Yuchan had half a mind to go over there and open the drawer for her. 

However, his waiting finally paid off when she did open the door, the soft furrow of her brows and pursing of her lips making him bite back a hearty grin. The red bow was removed, placed delicately on the desk as she slid her finger under the folds, pulling the wrapping paper away without ripping it. Then finally, she opened the lid and looked in, pulling out the glittering keychain with the biggest smile he had ever seen on her face.

To a couple of minutes she did nothing more than sit there and admire the gift, her finger tips smoothing over the gems and across the beautiful design of it. That was all he could ask for - to see her smile because of him. Though, it did present another problem for him; he could already feel his crush on her growing tenfold. 

Turning back to his screen, he felt content. As long as she was happy, he was too. His pulse continued to race and thrum, his aura giddy and joy clear enough that even Kihyun gave him a sideways glance from his side. 

“Yuchan!” His heart lurched again in his throat and he sat up straight, watching her come over with her hands covering something in her hand. “You won’t believe what someone gave me, it’s so beautiful.”

She pulled up a chair, stealing it from the row in front without a care and sat down, moving her hand to show him the peacock he had grown very familiar to.

“That is pretty,” he commented, trying to keep his cheeks from turning red and exposing him, “it would look nice on your bag.”

“You think so?” She asked, inspecting it, “I think it’s too nice for that. I might put it with my keys instead.” Pulling her keys from her pocket, he watched her clip it to them, the gems continuing in their glittering. He swore they were shining more in her presence. “I wonder who it was. They didn’t leave a name and I highly doubt it was Changseok.”

'Not with the dirty look he gave me,’ Yuchan thought though did not verbalise, instead only smiling and nodding. “They must like you. It suits you a lot.”

“Oh hush,” she placed a light finger against his lips, “I got you coffee, but I left it at my desk. One second,” she rushed away and he covered his face with his hands, running a hand through his hair. 

The steaming drink was placed at his side, the chair squeaking as she sat back down. He could feel Kihyun’s amusement at his obvious predicament. 'Whatever,’ he huffed, 'let hyung laugh,’ and then he looked up at her again. 

Her features were bright and they were beautiful, accentuated even more by the elation of the gift. Yuchan took one more look at her visage and knew he was smitten: or in other words, he had completely fucked himself over.

It became almost a tradition, every Thursday he would leave a gift in her top drawer that she would come to find on Friday and guess about. It was the highlight of his entire week and Yuchan couldn’t have cared less about the looks Changseok gave him every time he came to drop one off. 

She pushed open the door again, already excited for what she was going to get. The only thing she wasn’t fond of was the fact that she didn’t know who they were coming from and she couldn’t pay them back. 

Sitting down in her desk, she started up her computer and opened the drawer, overjoyed to see a small rectangular box covered in the same sparkly wrapping paper the others had come in. 

Pulling it out and closing the drawer with her knee, she was just about to unwrap it when she heard a voice speak beside her - one that she hadn’t heard for a while. 

“You know it’s him, right?” She blinked, not expecting to hear Changseok speaking to her after weeks of God given silence. 

“Pardon?”

“It’s him, that hybrid, he’s the only leaving you all this shit in your drawer,” He spat like he was disgusted to even think of it. Her blood boiled, anger swallowed down as she held the gift in her hands.

“What? Are you talking about Yuchan?" 

"Yes, that disgusting hybrid. He’s been leaving shit for you every thursday,” Her eyes narrowed, beyond giving a fuck about his opinion and of the proper professional conduct. 

“He’s better than you’ll ever be, you piece of shit. What are you doing mad about? The fact that people like Yuchan and not you? Maybe if you weren’t so unlikable, you would have friends too,” About to turn around, she felt her body jerk as he pulled her chair and scowled, obviously offended that she hadn’t given the time of the day. 

“What? You’re defending him? I always knew you were someone who fucked inbred shit like him,” Astounded by the words coming from his mouth, she fell silent for a moment before poison dropped from her words. 

“You’re the worst goddamn kind of person, the type who can’t face the fact that they’re a piece of shit. Yuchan is 1000 times more humane than you’ll ever be,” she stood up, glowering at him with danger setting fires in her eyes. “I told you never to speak to me and you open your mouth to talk shit? I shouldn’t have expected anything else.”

He stood up also, the entire office falling silence as they watched them both. Kihyun got up immediately, knowing it wasn’t going to end well - there had always been tension between them and it all seemed to be bubbling over in one terrible mess.

“Fuck you,” he hissed, “I bet you’ve sucked his dick and that’s why you’re so far up his ass,” she scoffed at his childish response, rolling her eyes.

Changseok seemed to not like that, his hand reaching towards her shoulder to try and coax a reaction from her, however she was faster. 

Within a second, he was clutching his nose, shock clear in his eyes as she clenched her fist, his head snapped back for a moment as the sin of wrath coloured her features. 

Kihyun rushed over, as Changseok moved forward, grabbing his hands as she grit her jaw, teeth grinding against each other with the force she was using to not punch him again.

“Changseok, you pathetic fuck,” she hissed and Kihyun held out his hand, trying to keep the damage at bay. She paid no attention to him, her stare enough to burn through his skin. “It’s so sad watching you show your true colours. Maybe one day someone other than your mother who will love you, though I highly doubt she does either.” She turned on her heel, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder, her actions reverberating off the walls in the near silent office. “I’m not coming back until he’s out of my fucking face.”

Those were the words that echoed loudly within the four walls, glances exchanged as people looked at each other in disbelief, the door shaking behind her as she slammed it shut.

Changseok shoved away Kihyun, storming towards the bathroom with both a bruised ego and face. 

And it was then that Yuchan finally felt his face burning, his eyes watery as he tried to wipe at his face as inconspicuously as he could. He wasn’t stupid, he had always noticed how Changseok didn’t like him, but he never would have thought he hated him to such an extent over something he had no control over. 

The screen in front of him blurred, the glances and whispers of everyone else making him feel like he was back at his first day, being judged and scrutinised for everything he did. 

Wanting nothing more than to curl up into a ball, he was thankful for Kihyun as he barked at everyone else to carry on working and to stop looking at him. A gentle hand found it’s way on his shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. 

“I’m sorry, Yuchan. You don’t deserve that.”

He shook his head, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. “I don’t want her to get into trouble. Especially not over me.”

Kihyun’s eyes were warm, filled with sympathy ss he shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Changseok started it so he’ll get the most of the punishment. She’ll be okay,” he sniffled, comforted at the thought, “if you want to go home, that’s completely okay. I’ll tell Junhee for you.”

Thanking him quietly, he got up from his seat, swallowing down the bile that threatened to make it way up his throat, his mind weighed down by the thoughts racing through his head. Barely looking anyway apart from straight ahead, he raced out of the building and kept his head down, finally able to wipe his face in peace. At least in the streets of Seoul no one acknowledged each other, too busy caring about themselves to care about him.

The last thing he wanted to do was be the reason that she was fired, though he couldn’t say that the fact she defended him hadn’t left his chest feeling warm and fuzzy. It was just that his feeling of guilt was overpowering it.

He couldn’t imagine coming into work and not seeing her pretty face coming up to him with happiness and a genuine excitement for meeting him. Yuchan didn’t want to imagine it either; she hadn’t even opened the gift he had gotten her this time.

Then, as he was walking, he heard his name being called. First it was very failure, almost a figment of his imagination, before he heard it louder and clearer. 

“Yuchan, wait!” He looked over his shoulder to see one of his seniors running towards him; Yoongi, one of the quieter but well respected higher ups. Yuchan hadn’t really interacted with him before save for the occasional smiles as Kihyun bothered him. 

He paused in his walking, desperately hoping he didn’t look like shit. 

Yoongi rushed up to him, looking slightly out of breath but still coherent enough to talk. “I’m sorry for what happened Yuchan. You shouldn’t have had to hear all that shit coming out of his mouth ”

“It’s o-”

“It’s not,” Yoongi shook his head, “He’s going to get fired and even though (y/n) will get a strike for punching him, she won’t be let go. We should have sacked him a long time ago,” his heart felt a million times lighter hearing that, a smile breaking out on his face and stretching across his cheeks.

Yoongi patted his shoulder. “Keep up the good work. We understand if you want to take a couple of days off. Stay healthy, Yuchan.” Yoongi. walked away again with a dip of his head. 

Even though the feeling of guilt still lingered, he was so much more jovial, now walking home with a skip in his step rather than pulling his feet along behind him. 

Her empty desk was slowly getting on his nerves. He knew in his heart of hearts that she would be coming back soon and that it just took a while for them to properly clean up all of Changseok’s belongings; he was still impatient. 

Yoongi had said she would be back and he had to believe that it would be soon. 

His headphones were over his ears, a half eaten sandwich in its wrapper on his desk. He didn’t have much of an appetite while at work anymore - subconsciously associating it with her and her presence. It didn’t feel right to eat if she wasn’t at least there or had said hi that day. 

Music played loudly in his ears, focused on completing the banner so he could go home and bury himself under the covers for a weekend. 

As he changed the colour of it, his attention was diverted by a box being set down between his arms. Wrapped in silvery paper and a glittering gold ribbon, it was incredibly reminiscent of his own packaging methods. 

Pulling the headphones around his neck, his breath hitched in his throat as the smile he had come to adore beamed down at him and bathed him in sunshine. He swallowed, words suddenly glued to the tip of his tongue. 

“Hi,” She spoke first, sitting down beside him, “how are you, Chan? Everything’s going good?”

He nodded, wishing he could have said something instead of becoming silent. 

“That’s good,” she mused, “He’s been fired so I’m back. I got a warning though, but that’s whatever." 

"I’m glad you’re back,” he finally vocalised and she grinned, “I missed you.”

A silence followed and he was worried he had overstepped a boundary, rushing to try and rectify it - only to be stopped by her soft giggle.

“You did? That’s cute,” she replied, her finger tapping on the box lightly, “thank you for the gifts by the way. They’re always so beautiful and I really enjoyed getting them.” Even though she only knew it was him because of Changseok opening his mouth, he couldn’t help but still be delighted and slightly embarrassed that he had been found out. 

Slowly, he reached out to slide his finger under the seals, copying her care and delicacy, before pulling the ribbon away and opening it up. Inside was a small rose charm, the rose tinted metal glittering brightly and with the sole purpose of catching his attention.  

“I know it’s not as pretty as everything you got me, but I hope you’ll like it more when you find out the second thing I got you,” he looked back inside the box, visibly confused when there was nothing there. “It’s a date. I was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me, Channie.”

He froze up immediately, eyes wide and turning into the size of golf balls as his mind screeched to a hold. Did she seriously just ask him out? The girl he had a crush on for months, asked him out?

If he wasn’t so gobsmacked he would have been mortified at his lack of response, her face dropping almost unnoticeably at his lack of reply. God, could he be anymore of a moron?

“Yes!” The exclamation came way too loudly and he cleared his throat, unable to meet her gaze ad he fiddled with the charm. “Um, yeah. I would really like that.”

“That’s great,” her hand was warm, resting on top of his as she squeezed his gently, “could I have your number then?" 

Fumbling with his phone, it almost slipped through his fingers as he handed it to her and he cursed himself for being such a mess. Thankfully, she seemed to find it endearing, sparkles lighting up her eyes as she saved his number in her phone and sent him a text. "Thank you, baby,” his cheeks flushed an even more vibrant crimson and he was sure he matched Kihyun’s hair by now. 

Even so, the last nail in his coffin had to be the gentle way her hands cupped his face, leaning closer so that her gentle and comforting scent invaded his senses. Her lips were soft against his cheek, the skin tingling even as she moved away - fingers brushing across the side of his face. 

He could only stare owlishly at her retreating figure, all thoughts disappearing. Yuchan could not believe that any of that had happened.

Then, like a bucket of cold water being thrown onto him, he heard Kihyun laughing from beside him, his foot landing on the side of his chair to spin him around. “I can’t believe you got her to ask you out. I never thought I’d see the day, you really are special if she likes you, Yuchan." 

Attempting to cover his face with his hands, Kihyun only continued to find amusement in his shyness, poking his side lightly before turning back to his work - still laughing. Nonetheless, Yuchan couldn’t have cared less. He had a date to worry about now.

The flavour of coffee and sugar coated his tongue, sweetness spreading across his mouth as he took another sip of his drink in an to attempt to pass the time which seemed to be passing by both incredibly quick and irritatingly slow. 

15 minutes had gone by and he was beginning to think that she had stood him up. That thought alone hurt to have and he could feel his stomach twist the more he lingered on that idea. That was the last thing he wanted to believe - to even consider. She wasn’t the type of person to do that, was she?

Consumed by his own thoughts, he didn’t hear the bell to the shop open and a hurried figure walk in. Only when the chair beside him scraped against the floor and and apologetic face was in front of his visage, did he realise who he was staring at. 

"I’m so sorry, Channie. I got caught up with my roommate, she couldn’t figure out what to get her girlfriend and dragged me into helping her,``she huffed and he found the puff of her cheeks to be adorable, his eyes turning into gentle crescent moons ad he forgot about all the negative emotions had felt just moments ago. 

"It’s okay, it was only 15 minutes, I don’t mind,” He really didn’t mind, not even she was looking so pretty just for him, her countenance as beautiful as ever - if not slightly more so today. “You look really nice today.”

Her eyes roamed over his body, looking over the maroon jacket that he had coupled with a black turtleneck and then back up to his face. “You look extra cute today as well.”

Yuchan swore he was going to become permanently pink faced around her.

Now that she was here, time seemed to fly by, speeding past until she placed her hand over his and suggested they leave the café in favour of walking around the nearby botanical garden. And how could he disagree to walking with pretty flowers and a stunning woman beside him?

Her arm looped around his, content written across her features as she spoke about whatever. Then, she paused for a moment and looked up at him. “Yuchan, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Are you a crow hybrid?” He was a little bewildered that she had figured it out; he was sure he had never given any indication towards his species. 

“Mhm. How did you find that out?”

“Well, for one you’re really intelligent and can pick out problems and solutions really quickly. And two, I noticed you really seem to like shiny things and collect them.- all the jewellery you wear is really bright, I think it’s cute,” His smile was broad, hiding his face in her shoulder as she ruffled his hair, smooth in the strands gently between her fingers. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you defend me and risk your job like that?” She stilled for a moment, but she carried on brushing her fingers through the silly black strands. 

“Because I don’t like him and his views. He’s a piece of shit that thinks he can say things like that and get away with it. I would have done it for anyone, but it annoyed me especially because he was saying it about you. You’re so sweet, Yuchannie and he refuses to acknowledge that,” Her voice was soothing and he found himself relaxing against her touch, “and besides. I got to punch him and keep my job, I think it’s a win win situation.”

He laughed, the sound full of mirth and of gratitude. “That’s nice to know,” He remarked teasingly and she pulled him down onto the bench with a finger against her smiling lips. 

Her fingers slipped into her coat pocket, rummaging around for something before she pulled out a small velvet box. The small thing was opened up and within there was a dainty half heart necklace, encrusted with red gems and a single pink one in the middle. 

Without giving him a chance to speak, she unclasped the necklace and gestured for him to lean down, placing it gently around his neck and patting the spot above his heart. She reached under her shirt and pulled out her own identical necklace, the other half of the heart.

“There,” she spoke as she tucked it back under her shirt, “now I can add you to my collection of pretty things." 

Oh god, he thought as he pressed a kiss to her cheek in an attempt to do something with himself, she’s going to make me fall so hard.